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February 27, 2020:


Bruce Kimmel Photograph bk's notes

Well, dear readers, I am sitting here like so much fish, having finally finished the horror that was Hunters.  Yes, I stuck it out to the bitter end, and I thought I was actually going to escape screaming at the computer screen, but alas episode nine pushed me to the screaming point.  This was, without a doubt, perhaps the single worst thing of this kind I’ve ever seen.  It was so ham-fisted and wrong right from the start, jumped the shark in the first five minutes of episode two, and then, in a subsequent episode, managed to jump the shark about six times in fifteen minutes.  It wasn’t enough to rip-off Mr. Tarantino and his ilk (including Adam McKay and others), no, in the final three episodes we had to completely go to J.J. Abrams-land and have an extended Alias episode, complete with the oh so predictable “twists” that come with such drivel.  The dialogue was some of the worst twaddle ever, the direction was standard-issue crap (how many single CGI tears can we have in one series), and the music was ridiculous.  The use of songs was also ridiculous.  The guy who created this is so trying to be hip and Tarantino-like with his references and that kind of dialogue but fails so miserably.  The protagonist, if there is one, is a teen kid who, with his nerdy friends, geek out at Star Wars and have discussions about Darth Vader (the film takes place in 1977), works in a comic book store and loves comics, and yet on his bedroom wall are posters of – wait for it – Truffaut’s The 400 Blows and Powell and Pressburger’s A Matter of Life and Death, a film, I’d venture to say, would have been completely unknown to a kid like this, let alone under its UK title and where, in those days, would he have even gotten a UK poster (that film was called Stairway to Heaven in the US).  I mean, it’s laughable.  But this is what you get from a thirty-two-year-old – imitative bushwa.  I cannot say enough bad things about this, and so I highly recommend watching it just for some other opinions.  And the whipped cream on the sundae is the film’s final reveal – so predictable and so awful at the same time.  In case there is any doubt, I hated every damn minute of this thing, despite some okay performances, excluding Lena Olin as a bad person – she’s played these roles before, including one on – wait for it again – a J.J. Abrams show.  Oh, and I guess I should mention that there’s a two-minute appearance by Alet Taylor as one of the villain’s mother.

What am I, a critic all of a sudden?  Yesterday, I got seven hours of sleep, answered e-mails, ascertained that there would be no book work, went to Gelson’s and got a couple of their pre-made sandwiches (390 calories each) and some spicy Thai pasta, came home, ate one sandwich and the small amount of cold pasta, and then began watching Hunters, which took up most of the afternoon and evening, with breaks to do other stuff.  Other stuff included having some telephonic conversations, including one with some lawyer who keeps calling here.  I haven’t taken the calls because I get so many spam calls, but I finally listened to his messages, where he sternly tells me I’d better call him about the matter with some name I didn’t quite get about another name I didn’t quite get.  So, I called him back, got him on the phone and told him he had the wrong guy.  At first, like all lawyers, he put on that tough tone and then I put on mine, saying he clearly had the wrong number, that I wasn’t either of these names he said, and only then did he finally apologize and tell me he wouldn’t call again.  I gotta tell you.

I found out our audience count thus far for the Kritzerland and it’s pretty healthy, so that’s good.  At some point, I went to the nearby Rite-Aid and got some cherry chocolate chip ice cream from their ice cream counter, and then went to Ralph’s and got a little salad from their salad bar, along with some Simply Dressed balsamic dressing.  I was delighted to see that they now also carry Chicken in a Biskit crackers, so I got a box of those, too.  I came back home, ate the salad and a few crackers, and finished up the endless thing called Hunters.

Today, I shall be up by ten-thirty, and am hoping that Grant can do some book work and get this thing ready for the publisher.  If he’s able to, I’m sure we’ll also have some lunch.  Then I’ll hopefully pick up some packages, I’ll write the flap copy for the dust jacket, then I’ll relax until six, at which point we have our second Kritzerland rehearsal, which will go to around nine.  Then I’ll relax.

Tomorrow, if there’s book work to be done I hope we can do it, then we resume our performances and I’ll attend the evening show.  Saturday is an early stumble-through at noon o’clock, but with two of our singers coming at ten-thirty to have their second rehearsal.  I’m sure some of us will grab a bite to eat after rehearsal.  Then I’ll relax and rest my voice.  Sunday, I’ll sleep in, then relax until it’s time to mosey on over to Vitello’s for sound check, and then we do our show.  We’ll grab a bite to eat after, I’m sure.  Then the upcoming week is busy – Monday I have to do some kind of interview for some podcast or something in the UK re David Cassidy, and there are meetings and meals and getting the book to the publisher.

Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, be up by ten-thirty, hope we can do book work, eat, write flap copy, hopefully pick up packages and maybe an important envelope, which I desperately need if I’m to have a good weekend, and then we have our second Kritzerland rehearsal, after which I’ll relax.  Today’s topic of discussion: What are the worst mini-series and multi-episode series you’ve ever seen?  Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, happy to be done with the awful Hunters and to have had a bit of a ME day.

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