Well, dear readers, we have a rant warning in place, so get ready for a ranting rant that will be a rant for all seasons. I sometimes watch things on the television and I sit and scratch my head as to why anyone would like these things. That happens with a lot of the limited series that aren’t so limited that stream these days. I haven’t watched a regular network show in three decades. I’ll watch an episode of this or one of that and just be amazed that that’s what folks seem to love these days. I’ve seen some good stuff, too, so it’s not that I loathe everything I see. But once in a while, something comes along that is so reprehensible, so vile, so disgusting, and most of all, so pointless, something that a streamer pays so much money for, and then unleashes it on the public who will either bite or not, and they don’t really seem to care one way or another, as they pretty much say everything they do is the most watched show ever in the history of everything. The show I speak of premiered its first two episodes at the Cannes film festival, which, to my mind, is pathetic to begin with – it’s the Cannes FILM festival, not limited series festival – and I’m happy to report that most reviews coming out of those screenings were terrible, as they should have been. In fact, I have only seen two reviews that were positive and even those weren’t THAT positive. But I gave it a go because I find it interesting to see what HBO thinks is worth making, even though I don’t care for most of their stuff. With this, they have hit rock bottom, the nadir of nadirs. Think Showgirls bad, with a bit of Blonde mixed in, with a bit of Babylon mixed in, and all directed – if you want to call this tripe “directed” – by someone who clearly idolizes Paul Verhoeven and written by him along with the other “creator” of the show and what do you get? The Idol. One “creator” is something called The Weeknd. I have no idea what that is or who that is and I care even less after this steaming pile of poop. The Weeknd is also the star of the show. Yep. The other “creator” is Sam Levinson, who would most likely have no career were he not the son of Barry. The son of Barry created something called Euphoria, which I happily never saw a single minute of. Therefore, I had no idea who Sam Levinson was until I was reminded that he wrote and directed one of the worst movies I’ve ever had to endure, Malcolm and Marie – everything you need to know about Mr. Levinson’s “talent” can be summed up in that film’s opening, where Marie (Zendaya) arrives home from a party with Malcolm, and immediately goes and sits on the toilet to make a steaming pile of poop, just like the movie we’re watching.
The Idol is horribly written, horribly directed, with completely unlikable characters, who behave stupidly and have to spout dialogue that I think is supposed to be hip and superficially satiric when it is merely terrible. It involves a combo platter of Brittney Spears/Madonna/Miley Cyrus type rock star played by Lily Rose-Depp, daughter of Johnny and Vanessa Paradis, who rather looks like both of them. Many thongs later, many boob shots later, she meets The Weeknd, who she immediately is attracted to and fools around with in a club he owns. Her “team” is one big cliché. Can’t blame good actors like Hank Azaria and Jane Adams, because no actor would have a shot with characters that are one-line jokes. After having watched half of Shiva Baby the night before I was not surprised to see that it’s star is a co-star in this, just the kind of smart-assy hip casting you’d expect. Of course, many cigarettes are smoked, cocaine is sniffed, the lifestyle of the rich and famous is paraded with no sense of anything, and the entire affair reeks from start to finish. Then count the number of times that Sam Levinson and The Weeknd’s names appear in the credits because THAT will make you want to vomit on the ground. Now, I know one can come off as an old man railing at the wind, but, no, I would have hated this with every fiber of my being at any age and anyone who knows me knows that. I would say that this is highly NOT recommended by the likes of me, but that wouldn’t begin to describe how I feel. Do watch it if you want to see just how far gone this industry is. I has spoken. End of ranting rant.
Yesterday was a ME day. I got a little over ten hours of needed sleep, I caught up on some stuff, answered a few e-mails, but mostly just did nothing of importance. I made some pasta with sauteed red onions, butter and cheese – not as much pasta as usual – and it was fine and filling but not too much so. Otherwise, I just puttered around the home environment. I first finished watching Gone in 60 Seconds, which was based on some movie I vaguely remember from the 1970s. I didn’t mind it – it was stupid, of course, but Nicolas Cage was good and Robert Duvall is always good, but the villain was terrible and so were a few of the supporting cast, while a couple of others did fine work. Angelina Jolie is the leading lady with little to do. The car stunts are all fun and while it’s about fifteen minutes too long for its own good, it’s pretty well paced.
Then I tried to find other movies to watch, found none, and then watched the horror known as The Idol. After that, I just did stuff on the computer. And now, I’m listening to more pastoral English music by a pastoral English composer called Ernest Farrar – very nice – in the Delius mold. Oh, and as I knew they would, the DGA has come to an agreement with the producers and that will get ratified quickly by the membership.
Today, I’ll be up by ten at the latest, I’ll do whatever needs doing, I’ll shave and shower, and then our first Kritzerland rehearsal begins at noon-thirty and will go until three or thereabouts. After rehearsal, I’ll go out and get some food to bring back and eat here, not sure what at this point. After that, I can watch, listen, and relax.
Tomorrow is the coaching session and I still don’t have a pianist for it, which is soooooo annoying I can’t even tell you. Wednesday I will maybe have an early lunch with some out-of-town folks and I do have to get up to storage to find stuff, Thursday is our second Kritzerland rehearsal, and then Friday is our stumble-through, Saturday is sound check, and then we do our show at seven-thirty. I will, of course, have a full report for you.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, be up by ten at the latest, do whatever needs doing, shave and shower, have a rehearsal, eat, pray for a major major miracle, and then watch, listen and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: Which streaming limited series have been your favorites and which have you hated? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, happy to have gotten the ranting rant off my ranting chest.