An Aaron Sorkin Double: The Trial of the Chicago 7 & The West Wing Special

"The whole world is watching!" So goes the battle cry of the crowds waiting outside the courthouse where seven anti-war protesters and a member of the black panthers were being prosecuted in 1969, in what became one of the most bizarre trials on record. It's just a shame no one's watching the film about it - at least according to Netflix's Top 10 listing. Despite an all star cast (including Sacha Baron Cohen, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Michael Keaton, Frank Langella, Eddie Redmayne, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II and Mark Rylance), Aaron Sorkin's latest verbal tsunami has gotten little to no fanfare.

The story, which deviates relatively little from what was actually said and done, sees the Chicago 7, plus Black Panther Bobby Seale, in court over whether they attempted to incite protesters to riot during an anti-war protest. Cutting back and forth between the trial and the events that lead-up to the riot, we slowly get to know each of the 7 (well, except for a couple of them, who we're told in passing are only there so that the prosecutors can seem lenient when they let them off without charge) and learn how the protest morphed into a brutal and destructive run-in with the police.

Sorkin the director is still little more than a reliable journeyman, getting the job done with clarity and efficiency, but not with much style or flair. Fortunately, we also get Sorkin the writer, who can still turn what should by rights be a prosaic exchange about a government or law into a lyrical, funny and hypnotic back and forth - one that's loaded with smarts (and a ton of exposition). 

That Sorkin's cast is full of ringers doesn't hurt: Rylance is still an understated powerhouse; Baron Cohen lets his charisma shine through, and proves he's capable of far more than he's been giving us over the last two decades; Keaton, Redmayne and the majority of the rest of the cast comfortably deliver a script that requires them to deliver lines at hyperspeed; and Langella has a grand ol' time as the deeply flawed judge of the case - although he's so sneeringly evil, he sits on the brink of unbelievability. But the real standout is Abdul-Mateen as Bobby Seale. What he goes through, and how he's treated in a court of law, ought to defy belief - but given the times we're living through, it seems all too possible an outcome even 50 years later.

7.5/10 - Despite its lack of flair, it's still worth a look.

And very briefly (well, brief-ish), a shout out for Sorkin's recent re-staging of The West Wing episode "Hartsfield's Landing". Due to the current state of the US of A, it's more exhilarating than ever to briefly live in a beautifully shot and scripted bubble where those voted into public office want to affect positive change. That said, my response to this special may be driven by the fact that I love the show with every fibre of my being, so seeing the actors take up their parts for the first time in 14-years was always going to blow my mind.

With that caveat about my blinkered all-consuming love for West Wing out of the way, it really is stunningly shot. Despite being filmed in a theatre with a relatively spare set, director and co-creator of the series Tommy Schlamme does wonders with the space, managing to cross-cut between different settings with subtle staging, and he frames and shoots much of the episode so that the show feels more cinematic than ever. That the performances aren't an imitation of what the cast did before also helps, as each actor brings the weight of time and experience to bear on their parts. The choice not to imitate is particularly true of Sterling K Brown, who fills in for the much beloved John Spencer, who died during the filming of the last season of West Wing. He has the same gravitas as Spencer, but he finds his own way into the part.

When the special airs in the UK (it's currently only available in the US via HBO Max, but discussions are underway to get it over here relatively soon), it's unclear whether they'll include the straight-to-camera segments (where there were once ad breaks) urging American voters to get out and vote. Although they can be overly earnest - which is pretty much West Wing in its comfort zone - they're also funny; particularly one in which Lin Manuel-Miranda is forced into comparing Hamilton with the glories of The West Wing.

10/10

TV Review - The Haunting of Bly Manor

 

'Tis the season of ambitious horror series swinging big... And mostly missing. There's the fitfully ingenious Lovecraft Country and its soporific central mystery; the stunningly shot The Third Day, successfully riffing on The Wicker Man, and then outstaying its welcome by an hour or three; and now we have The Haunting of Bly Manor, aka The House Where Accents Go To Die.

Loosely adapted from Henry James' The Turn of the Screw, which has been adapted many, many times, including the faultless '61 film version The Innocents, and more recently, the thoroughly mediocre The Turning back in the halcyon days of January. Its title overhaul is to tie it to showrunner Mike Flanagan's brilliantly chilling series from last year, The Haunting of Hill House. A fact that's hard to miss, given how it transplants the majority of the cast from Hill House, and sees Flanagan (and his set designer Patricio Farrell) once again building a creepy home from a scratch. Also present: a fright of ghosts (Fact of the Day: 'fright' is the collective noun for ghosts). Not so present: all that many frights.

Moving The Turn of the Screw's action from 1898 to 1987 - bringing it just close enough to the present to channel a little Stranger Thing's-like nostalgia, but not so up to the present that the story has to contend with mobile phones, which have been poking holes in horror plots from the moment they were invented - the series trundles along quite happily at first. In quick succession, we're introduced to the bright, bubbly and haunted (because of course she is) American abroad Dani, who's made the new governess at Bly; her employer, the scowling and haunted (yes, he's haunted too) Henry Wingrave; his reliable but haunted (it's probably safest to assume everyone's got a haunted vibe, okay?) housekeeper Hannah; a brooding and enigmatic gardener, Jamie; the ex-(very ex) governess at Bly Manor, Rebecca; Henry's raffish, Scottish valet, Peter; amiable chef, driver, and dogsbody Owen (who actually seems pretty chipper and non-haunted); and last but not least, the quirksome, almost irksome, Wingrave siblings, Flora and Miles.

Over the show's nine episodes, most everyone gets a solid hour dedicated to their backstory. Although the scares are rarer than in Hill House, they're no less effective when they come around. Where the torrent of jumps were in the previous series, we instead get a greater focus on slow-burn mysteries and a nicely chilling atmosphere. It's only when we get into Peter and Rebecca's soporifically tedious love story that things start going awry. Partly, because it feels like it'll go on beyond the heat death of the universe, but mostly because of over familiarity. The Turn of the Screw is an old, old tale, and plenty have liberally stolen from James' original story over the last one hundred plus years, so neither Peter and Rebecca's doomed affair, nor most of the other characters' backstories, will surprise anyone. But what really sinks the show is England. More specifically, keeping it set here, rather than shifting it across the pond. Now I should point out that I have a tin ear for accents. I could meet someone with the thickest Glaswegian accent going and I'd still ask bemusedly "So... where you from?". And I'm married to a Glaswegian. And yet even I can tell that the stiff upper lip accents being put on by most of the cast are like nails on a chalkboard, and would be deemed 'a bit much' by the Monty Python boys. But a special mention needs to go out to the worst offender, Oliver Jackson-Cohen's Peter. His supposedly Scottish accent is like listening to your 8-year-old nephew doing a bad Gerard Butler impression - but with a foghorn.

Despite these issues, and they are neither few nor slight, Flanagan still knows how to orchestrate the hell out a scare. Unfortunately, with the scares so rare over the nine-hour stretch, I'm betting many will bail before they get to some of the show's best jumps.

6/10

TV Review - Lovecraft Country - Season 1

 

Who to blame for Lovecraft Country? 

To be clear, the show isn't bad. In fact, at times, its exhilarating how well it blends racial oppression in 50s America with horror stories from the last century. But as a loose anthology, it lives and dies by how well it riffs on each episode's old school horror.

The spine of the show's story, holding its many and varied episodes together, follows war vet Atticus (Jonathan Majors), who returns home to 1950s U.S. of A. after serving in South Korea. Almost immediately, he goes in search of his missing father (Michael Kenneth Williams) with the help of his childhood friend, Letitia (Jurnee Smollett), and his uncle, George (Courtney B. Vance). Between them, Majors, Smollett, Williams and Vance have more charisma than should be healthy for a person - but it's all in service to a sub-Lost mystery that drags us, again and again, away from each episodes principal horror story. It gets so bad that you end up resenting the core cast as the camera cuts back to them trying to decipher another book, chant or hieroglyph.

But when the show works, good God does it work. In its ingenious third episode, it subverts the traditional haunted house story by having the inhabitants in greater danger from those made of flesh and blood, harassing them from without, than by the tortured souls haunting them from within. In its darkly funny fifth episode, it takes a queasily graphic approach to body horror, whilst wryly detailing a strange kind of code switching. But to get to these episodes, you have to wade through a shambolic story about magicians - played by the Ku Klux Klan, but with sparkly magic - and a tonally jarring Indiana Jones adventure. 

So who's to blame for Lovecraft Country's ramshackle nature? It'd be easy to put it all on wunderkind producer JJ Abrams, who knows how to set up a show, but is less able to see a story through to the end (see: Lost, Alias, Westworld, Fringe, and the list goes on). But given that there are more than twenty producers on LC, it's hard not to imagine that that's an awful lot of people, of which more than a few must have been pulling in a different direction to everyone else...

6.5/10

TV/DVD Release Review: 'Broadchurch'

Broadchurch is classified as a crime drama. That's not really accurate. A crime kicks off the story - the death of a young boy - and we get to know the people (and suspects) of Broadchurch through a police investigation, but the real focus is on tracing how the loss ripples through the community. By casting the almost over qualified Olivia Colman and David Tennant as the detectives investigating the death the show manages, briefly, to look like it's aspiring to be a classy procedural in the vein of Prime Suspect and Cracker. Tennant's detective, who's new to the town, forces Colman to shift her perspective and view the people of Broadchurch, many of them friends of hers, as potential murderers. It's an interesting arc for Colman, it's just a shame no one noticed that Tennant wasn't given one. He does get a compelling, slowly teased out, backstory that is part of the reason for his dogged approach to the current case (although the trope of the detective that pushes himself to the limit, desperately trying to close the case at all costs, was well worn about a century back), but he gets nothing to do in the present beyond belittling Colman (always amusing) and scowling. Although he does the scowling thing rather well it hardly stands-in for character development.

A further frustration is that the pair aren't much good at the whole detecting lark. Practically every clue is handed to them, wrapped in a neat bow, and more often than not these tip-offs could have been given to them at any time during the eight episodes, but they're only deployed when the plot needs them. Structuring a murder mystery isn't easy, and sometimes you have to come up with the odd contrivance to keep a clue back, but there ought to be a rhyme and reason to it, rather than it being immediately apparent that it's just convenient for the writer. Instead of giving Tennant and Colman the opportunity to do some actual detecting most of the screen time is used up making it clear that anybody could be the culprit. (IF YOU WANT TO AVOID EVEN TINY SPOILERS THEN SKIP TO THE NEXT PARAGRAPH) Which is fine as that's part of the point of the show and fits well with where Colman's character arc goes, but it works rather less well when there's just a handful of characters that are never considered for the crime, and one in particular who's so pointedly boring, beige and forgettable that you'll immediately clock that they're going to play a big part in the final reveal. Which wouldn't be an issue if the red herrings weren't so damned red herring-y (it's a word now, get over it). You shouldn't know that the suspect is innocent - and that you're being lead a merry dance - until, ideally, the very last episode. In Broadchurch you know it in scene one, episode one.

Fortunately Broadchurch isn't really a detective show. Instead the focus is on detailing the different stages of grief in a way few shows (or films) ever have. If the show were only about dealing with that pain, and how you'd look just about anywhere to find answers or a way to deal with it, then it'd be pretty close to perfect. Unfortunately Chris Chibnall, the creator and writer, spends a great deal of time pretending its classification is accurate. The best thing you can do is ignore that pretence. Broadchurch is a straight drama, and for the most part it's a damned good one.

Overall: 7/10

First Look: 'Arrested Development', season 4, episodes 4-6

Well that was better. Admittedly being better would have taken not much at all, but I'm trying to be positive about the show I once loved, so leave me and my doomed optimism alone.

Episode 4, a Michael-centric episode, actually had moments that felt like the old show. I laughed a good few times, which is a fair step up from the one laugh (it might have been more of a mild titter than a laugh) an episode of the first few. The Ron Howard gags that play throughout are fun enough, and even when they don't work they also don't grate, as the jokes did in 'Indian Takers' (episode 3), the weakest episode the show has ever done.

As with the the first few episodes, and no doubt the whole of this season, the episode could do with losing a good third of its runtime. I also think that Michael is becoming more unlikeable than Hurwitz intends. He's always been deluded and narcissistic, but when he's surrounded by the rest of his family it's offset by the fact that they're much better at it. The characters work because of how they play off each other; stranded on their own they've had a tendency to walk a fine line between being kooky and annoying. Unfortunately it's usually the latter.

Episode 5 is devoted to Tobias (David Cross), a longtime fan favourite. I've always thought Cross's manic performance felt strained, and I don't feel much different about it now. I can imagine most people will enjoy this one: the usual Tobias double entendres come thick and fast and there are some inspired moments, particularly John Beard's To Entrap A Local Predator, but I think a little Tobias goes a long way.

Episode 6 is George Sr's: the next most incidental character in the main cast after Tobias. During the original run he was used effectively because he was used sparingly. But give the character 30-minutes of running time to fill and you're going to put me to sleep. Which is what happened. 

After a brief kip I rewound and took a second run at it. There was some fun poked at Republicans, and there was the continuing laboured storyline about building a wall on the Mexican border, but I felt like I was sleep-watching and it never full engaged me. 

Overall: (thus far) 5/10

You Should Be Watching: 'Hannibal'

Bryan Fuller can be a grating individual. Or, rather, his shows can be. Dead Like Me had the most sullen pouty lead I've ever come across; Pushing Daisies was fun, but its relentlessly peppy cast, and primary coloured sets became trying well before it was cancelled; and Wonderfalls, which I never had a chance to see (it was cancelled before it was even half-way through its first season), had the central premise of a young woman who talks to figurines: which sounds just as trying as the rest of his oeuvre.

So it comes as some surprise that his new show, which focuses on the events preceding Thomas Harris's first Lecter starring novel Red Dragon, is the antithesis of his previous work, ie. less with the twee, more with the watchable. (Well almost the complete antithesis: Fuller's fascination with death is as prevalent as ever, if not more so.)

Currently, as the show approaches its last few episodes in the US, the cast and crew wait in a state of limbo, neither cancelled nor renewed. Most people have probably steered clear of the show because Lecter has suffered from almost as much overexposure as vampires. It doesn't help that the show has the same title as Ridley Scott's sequel to Silence of the Lambs, which turned the character into a bog standard boogeyman; Anthony Hopkins seemed to be having fun, but it was all just hammy nonsense. And the prequel Hannibal Rising did nothing to restore the previous menace of Brian Cox in Manhunter, or Hopkins in Silence. Which is a long-winded way of saying that Fuller has had a somewhat uphill battle convincing people that there's something new to say about dear Dr. Hannibal.

The reason the show works is because it isn't about Hannibal. He's important, no doubt about that. And he's had episodes where he's taken centre stage. But the focus is on Will Graham (Hugh Dancy), a man so good at getting into the minds of killers that he's ever on the verge of losing his. I've only seen Dancy in the odd bit part prior to this, and he's never really stood out. In Hannibal he's staggeringly good. Watching him cling to his sanity for dear life is the reason to watch this show. That and the visuals. I don't think I've ever seen a show that looks quite this good. TV is looking ever more cinematic, but with Hannibal you'll find yourself wondering if there's any difference between this and film.

As well Dancy the show has Laurence Fishburne: for once not sleepwalking through his role as he has in most others over the last decade; Caroline Dhavernas: in a seemingly thankless love interest role that she invests with much more character and humanity then was probably ever in the script; and, in the title role, Mad Mikkelsen: who's quiet, restrained take on Hannibal is reminiscent of Brian Cox's portrayal. He skulks in the background, keeping his true nature hidden. Which is a very effective way to build tension and to give the other characters room to grow. Plus its Mads Mikkelsen. Any film or show can do with more Mikkelsen. I have a similar theory about Tom Hiddleston.

What's interesting about the show is that it starts where most shows would end. It's not all that interested in how the killers get caught (which would be the sole focus of an episode of CSI), but who and why the killers are.

Now this isn't to say that the show's perfect. There are narrative leaps that don't make sense and are excused by pointing at Mr. Will Graham and saying: 'He's really empathic; he just knows.' Even when he couldn't possibly. And after keeping Hannibal in the background, only hinting (albeit rather strong hinting) at his true nature, they then bring him to the forefront in rather blunt unnecessary fashion. But Fuller and co. do so much right that the detractions are very minor.

If you haven't started watching it yet: do. Hunt it down. Find it on iTunes, record it on SkyLiving, do whatever you gotta'. Because if it gets cancelled its on you. And it'd be your fault that we can't have nice things. And we all like nice things.

Overall: 8.5/10

First Look: 'Arrested Development', season 4, episodes 1-3

I don't think anyone ever thought it'd turn up. Cancelled seven years ago, and watched by what felt like me and one other guy, Arrested Development has actually been resuscitated.

The first two seasons were near perfect, so long as you had the patience for the slow build of each gag as it gets brought back several episodes, if not seasons, later. And the third and final season was still better than any other comedy going. Part of what made it so good was that it moved at a lightning fast pace, so that even the jokes that didn't land would be gone in the blink of the eye. Unfortunately this is... No longer true. I can't speak to the later episodes of season 4, as I've only watched the first three, but fans of the original would be best off viewing it as an entirely different show that just happens to share some of the same characters and locations from AD circa 2006.

One thing I'd particularly like to know is whether Mitchell Hurwitz, the creator of the show, had been given free licence in respects to the length of each episode - now anywhere from 5 to 15 minutes longer than the original episodes - or whether Netflix pressured him to produce a certain amount of content. The episodes, which each focus on an individual member of the Bluth family, are extremely baggy; moving at a pace that you would struggle to call a light saunter. Most jokes don't land, and even the good ones go right past you; not because of their speed, and dry delivery (as used to be the case) but because the whole thing seems to have been directed and edited by the more inept members of my old film school. Jason Bateman's home in the original run was a show home, and looked intentionally fake; now every set looks like the show home. You feel you could push against any wall or vista, and the cardboard facade would topple over. More disappointing is the fact that I actually felt this about some of the original cast. Jessica Walter's is still fantastic, making even the worst lines work (but then she's had plenty of practice, as she's essentially been playing Lucille Bluth for the last three years in the FX show Archer); Tony Hale, Will Arnett and Michael Cera are only seen briefly in the first few episodes, but they settle right back into their roles; whilst Jason Bateman, David Cross, Portia de Rossi, and Jeffrey Tambor come across as, respectively: tired, a broad caricature, plain bored, and also tired.

The most troubling parallel that came to mind while I was watching these episodes was Community's latest season. Once Dan Harmon left the show it stopped being Community and became something different, and less substantial. Arrested Development feels much the same way. But in this instance the creative team is the same. So who's suddenly gone missing? My best guess at the minute is that they must have lost one hell of a good editor.

Overall: (so far) 3/10

Original run of the show: 9/10