reVIEW (44)
INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS

Having watched Nicholas Roeg’s classic “psychic thriller” Don’t Look Now last night, I decided to make a mini-Donald Sutherland festival of it, and booked a return trip to San Francisco circa 1978 to watch, for the umpteenth time, the pod people take root, in Philip Kaufman’s awesome Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

1978.
I missed seeing Philip Kaufman’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers with my family because I had to stay home, sick. The next day, my older brothers regaled me with some of the film’s highlights, including of course, the bit with Pooch, and that nasty, nasty last shot. (Even back then, the term “spoilers” was alien to my brothers.)
I got to see the film later on, and it’s to the credit of Kaufman and everyone else who was involved with this second cinematic adaptation of the Jack Finney novel, The Body Snatchers, that the movie still worked like gangbusters, even if I already knew some of the vital beats of the narrative.
Over the subsequent years, Invasion of the Body Snatchers would remain the solid core of my Kaufman Three, to be joined by 1983‘s The Right Stuff and 1990’s Henry & June.
And even now, three decades later, the film still gets me.

Matthew Bennell (Donald Sutherland) is an employee of the Department of Public Health, who, along with co-worker Elizabeth Driscoll (Brooke Adams) and some friends, gradually uncovers an insidious invasion of our planet, by alien pods that duplicate humans, producing identical replicas that possess the memories of the original, though stripped of all emotion.
While the first film adaptation—Don Siegel’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers from 1956—was an allegory for an America under the shadow of the Red Scare and the House Committee on Un-American Activities, Kaufman’s spin on the material is a wildly effective exercise in urban paranoia, and the fear of conspiracy.
In the film, the city that is arguably the most free-thinking and liberal in the United States, San Francisco, becomes ground zero for this creeping, unseen invasion whose ultimate goal is total conformity. Utilizing the trappings of civilization—the vast, faceless bureaucracy; the daily workings of a bustling metropolis—as both mask and tool, this sort of take over, a cultural and societal cancer, if you will, is far more disturbing than the death rays-a-blazing gambit of other science fiction invasion films like Independence Day or War of the Worlds.

Aside from the effective leads, Kaufman also drafted Jeff Goldblum and Veronica Cartwright (as Jack and Nancy Bellicec), as well as Leonard Nimoy (as psychiatrist David Kibner), who deliver some excellent supporting performances.
Kaufman also gathered some great behind-the-scenes personnel, including pioneering sound designer Ben Burtt, who provides some truly unnerving aural effects (one can never truly shake off the pod shriek), and make-up effects wizard Tom Burman (fourth on my list of Best Special Make-Up Effects Dudes, Ever),* responsible for the major creepfest which was the multiple pod births in the garden sequence.
And the cameos…
Kevin McCarthy runs out of the 1956 version, right into this one, and Don Siegel trades in his director’s chair for the driver’s seat of a cab. Priceless.

As I mentioned above, this film is 30 years old, and it’s still as powerful and disturbing today as it was back then. Kaufman hit this one dead on, succeeding where the third and fourth adaptations (Abel Ferrara’s Body Snatchers and Oliver Hirschbiegel‘s The Invasion) ultimately failed.
In point of fact, in this post 9/11 age where all—even governments—are suspect, and where racial profiling is a questionable exercise since skin colour cannot genuinely reflect a person’s inner ideology, Kaufman’s grim vision of a society changed overnight is perhaps even more chilling today than it was in 1978.

* Number one: Rick Baker.
Number two: Rob Bottin.
Number three: Tom Savini.
Tom Burman has been keeping busy recently working on TV’s Nip/Tuck and Grey’s Anatomy. Back in the day, he also did notable make-up effects work on Oliver Stone’s The Hand, Paul Schrader’s remake of Cat People, the Michael Myers-less Halloween installment, Season of the Witch, Brian De Palma’s Body Double, and slasher fare like My Bloody Valentine and Happy Birthday To Me.

Parting shot: Aside from all its other strengths, Kaufman’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers also sports the cruelest use of “Amazing Grace” outside of an American Idol audition show that I’ve ever seen.

Parting shot 2: Reviews of the fourth film adaptation of The Body Snatchers, The Invasion, as well as Steven Spielberg’s take on War of the Worlds, can be found in the Archive.

(Invasion of the Body Snatchers OS courtesy of impawards.com; DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.co.uk.)

DAY OF THE DEAD (2008)
(Review)

Welcome to Leadville, Colorado, on the day the dead start to walk the Earth.
A remake of George Romero’s third installment in his Dead series, this is a straight-to-DVD feature starring American Beauty’s Mena Suvari as Sarah Bowman, born and raised in Leadville, and back as part of a supposed military exercise that quickly turns into a tour of zombie Hell.
Sadly—and much like the surprisingly rapid decay and decomposition of newly-turned zombies—the film itself likewise quickly degenerates into a tour of low budget horror Hell.

First of all, we really didn’t need remakes to Romero’s originals. That’s a given.
But, however unnecessary the remakes may have been, it’s to the credit of directors Tom Savini and Zack Snyder (who gave us 1990‘s colour redux of Night of the Living Dead and 2004‘s adrenalized zombies in the revisited Dawn of the Dead) that the first two were actually well-made and ultimately, excellent additions to the ranks of zombie cinema.
This Day though, is frankly a terrible mess.
Brought to us by Steve Miner—who directed the second and third parts of the Friday the 13th franchise, as well as Halloween H20—the Day of the Dead remake should really just have stayed dead, or at the very least, spent a little more time in deep freeze while another draft of the script was cranked out, and another, more capable director chosen for the unenviable task of walking in Romero’s shadow.

To begin with, why the script by Jeffrey Reddick (who co-wrote Final Destination) chooses to favour a youngish cast is a mystery, as this feels like nothing so much as part teen horror flick, part kids dressing up to play soldier.
Now, just to be clear, I actually thought Suvari was passably effective here; save for some rather screamy bits, she passes muster, as does Stark Sands (Conor McNamara, in Nip/Tuck’s “2026” flashforward episode), who brings a curious pathos to his role of Bud. (If you’ve seen Romero’s original, you’ll get an idea what ultimately happens to Bud, based solely on his name.)
The script though, doesn’t really treat their characters with any real respect. But while Suvari and Sands attempt to make the most of what little is given them, the other performers aren’t so skilled or lucky.
Joan of Arcadia’s Michael Welch (as Sarah’s younger brother, Trevor) and other Nip/Tucker AnnaLynne McCord (as his girlfriend Nina) are vaguely ridiculous, as is Torchwood‘s Matt Rippy (as CDC doc, Logan). Nick Cannon meanwhile, as Salazar, is merely amusing, but not in a good way.
It’s also telling that the two older members of the cast, Ian McNeice (as Paul, the local DJ; you’ll recall McNeice as Robert Drudge, the police surgeon in From Hell) and Ving Rhames (who plays Capt. Rhodes, the brother mentioned by Rhames’ character in Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead), are given ultimately thankless roles here. Rhames, in particular, is made to look like quite the fool in his final onscreen moments in Day.

Why the script chooses to forego the claustrophobic setting of the original Day is also another mystery, instead opting to show us the disaster that befalls Leadville, when the film’s budget clearly can’t afford to.
And while there is an anti-military swipe towards film’s end, it’s piddling compared to the socio-cultural commentary Romero manages to squeeze in amidst the gore of his originals.
Also, for those of you who took issue with the running zombies from Dawn, well, you’ll ab-so-frakkin’-lute-ly abhor Miner’s Day zombies, who not only leap, they also actually spider climb across ceilings.
I kept on waiting for them to go all Yamikazi on Suvari’s a$$, but sadly, they didn’t.
And while some of the gore effects are adequate, there’s also some rather dodgy CGI and visual effects in here, particularly when we get some zombie BBQ on the menu.

Miner’s horror record had been spotty before this—Friday the 13th Part II was the last time Crystal Lake was any fun, but his Part III and Halloween H20 were not particularly good. (Though the on-screen pairing of mother and daughter Scream Queens Janet Leigh and Jamie Lee Curtis in H20 was admittedly a great and knowing nod.)
Now he’s touched a third classic horror franchise and left behind an odious reek, like an alley cat marking its territory.
The man should stop while he’s behind…
And the remakes of Romero should stop too.

(Day of the Dead OS courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com.)

THE CINEMATIC (UN)LIFE OF COUNT DRACULA
1922-1979
Part I: “A Symphony of Shudders”

July 13 1929
The Film Society has finally caved in to reason and handed the copy of that blasted film to me.
Just when I begin to think that everything Abraham worked so hard for is safe and out of the hands of profiteering criminals, yet another copy surfaces. Irritable piece of filth.
Blast Murnau and his colleagues!
I have consigned this particular copy to the furnace and even now am watching it burn. Seeing the tiny sparks floating up from the flames is doing me a world of good. The smoke though, reminds me of how that cadaverous thing met its demise.
I still recall how that monster looked. A repulsive, man-sized rodent! Revolting.
And the Society had the gall… the unabashed audacity, to invite me to its screening, even after all the fuss and bother of my legal entanglements with Prana-Film.
The film isn’t even any good at all. They changed the ending, for pity’s sake!
Sunlight, indeed.
What would have been so difficult about a Bowie knife?
Ridiculous.


1922.
Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau’s classic silent film, Nosferatu, Eine Symphonie des Grauens, is released.
For the purposes of this article, three important points to take note of.

One: the film is a thinly-veiled (and unauthorized) reworking of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, merely changing character names (Dracula becomes Graf Orlock; Lucy Westenra becomes Annie Harding; Van Helsing becomes Bulwar), locales (London becomes Bremen), and time periods (1893 winds back to 1838).
Florence Stoker’s campaign to have every single copy of the film destroyed is legendary.
Several times, beginning in July 1925, when all the copies owned by the Deutsch-Amerikansch Film Union were reportedly destroyed, Stoker’s widow came close to her goal.
But always, when it seemed that the film had finally been obliterated, the existence of another copy would come to her attention, and her protests would begin anew. This crusade was to continue till her death in 1937.
In the end though, what managed to escape her attention was a talkie that surfaced in 1930. Entitled Die Zwolfte Stunde (The Twelfth Hour), it was later discovered to be none other than Murnau’s Nosferatu, with a music-and-effects track added onto it.
Of this particular turn of events, writer Denis Gifford has said, “Nosferatu is the classic example of art saved from destruction by piracy.”


Two: visually, Graf Orlock’s bald, rat-like countenance has served as inspiration for everything from Tobe Hooper’s TV adaptation of Stephen King’s Salem’s Lot, to a whole clan of vampires in White Wolf’s role playing game, Vampire: The Masquerade, to the Reapers in Guillermo del Toro’s Blade II.

Three: Orlock’s death—disintegrated by the rays of the rising sun—appears nowhere in Stoker’s novel; neither does traditional folklore say that a vampire is affected by the sun in this manner.
Death by sunlight is a purely cinematic invention that has since filtered into vampiric lore, becoming an invaluable (and to some, indispensable) addition to the body of myth that has accreted around the nocturnal creature.
Think how different vampires would be today, if Florence Stoker had succeeded in her campaign.
No “death by disco” climax in Robert Rodriguez’s From Dusk Till Dawn; no FX-laden Chris Sarandon death scene in Tom Holland’s Fright Night; no fiery ends for the down-and-dirty deadheads of Kathryn Bigelow’s Near Dark; and the entire premise of David Slade’s 30 Days of Night would be meaningless.
Which just goes to prove that film is a powerful medium, rearranging the public’s perception of facts, fallacies, and fables.


Nosferatu was to be merely the first of a whole slew of films that would be based on Stoker’s novel, the stage adaptation, or simply feature a character named Dracula, whether or not he resembled Stoker’s character.
And just to illustrate the depths that crass exploitation can go, there have also been films that have had “Dracula” in their titles, but did not even have a character with that name appearing in the film itself.
Case in point: Blood of Dracula, which was about a hypnotized girl developing a taste for blood. No Count whatsoever.

Parting shot: Reviews of Blade II, 30 Days of Night, and Shadow of the Vampire (which presents a fictionalized look at the filming of Nosferatu) can be found in the Archive.

In Part II of “The Cinematic (Un)Life of Count Dracula” (also to be found elsewhere in the Archive), we take a look at the stage adaptation of Stoker’s Dracula, to get a better understanding of the film adaptations from 1931 onwards.
The article above is a slightly altered portion of the second part of the previously published Blood, Love and Rhetoric series of articles written in 1997, to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Bram Stoker’s Dracula.
The opening diary entry is of course, a fiction of mine.
Much love and thanx to Karen, for inviting me into the sandbox where this piece of writing (and so many others) first got to play.

(Nosferatu OS’s courtesy of impawards.com; image courtesy of greencine.com; DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.co.uk.)

reVIEW (43)
SHADOW OF THE VAMPIRE

“Our battle, our struggle, is to create art. Our weapon is the moving picture.
“Because we have the moving picture, our paintings will grow and recede. Our poetry will be shadows that lengthen and conceal. Our light will play across living faces that laugh and agonize. And our music will linger and finally overwhelm because it will have a context as certain as the grave.
“We are scientists engaged in the creation of memory. But our memory will neither blur, nor fade.”
-- F.W. Murnau

Nicolas Cage certainly has an interesting view of vampires.
In 1989, he starred in Robert Bierman‘s Vampire’s Kiss, a black comedy in which he played poor, befuddled Peter Loew, who believes—perhaps mistakenly—that he’s been bitten by a vampire.
11 years later, Cage chose as his feature producing debut, E. Elias Merhige’s brilliant take on Nosferatu, Shadow of the Vampire.

Here, noted German director Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau (John Malkovich) sets off to film (without the widow Stoker’s permission) Dracula, and in the interests of authenticity, has a real vampire (Willem Dafoe) pretend to be an actor named Max Schreck, to play Nosferatu’s Count Dracula stand-in, Count Orlock.
As early as that singular premise—with its funhouse mirroring of truth masquerading as fiction, to play a fiction which is both truth (as Schreck/Orlock really is a vampire) and a double fiction (Orlock is merely Dracula, under a different name); all of this, of course, a fiction of a truth, as we see a behind-the-scenes-look-that-never-was of the making of Nosferatu—it should be plainly evident that Shadow of the Vampire is so much more than your average cinematic blood-sucking experience.
With a script by Steven Katz, Shadow of the Vampire asks the central question, How far is an artist willing to go for his art? And in asking that question, Shadow also explores the double-headed metaphor of art as vampire, and art as a means to immortality.
It also takes the film industry to task. Humourously, by poking fun at how a star’s ego can hijack a production, and darkly, by presenting the camera (in the film, merely an extension of the director) as cold, apathetic observer and recorder, as leecher of vitality and life, an idea which reaches its apex in a chilling sequence that touches on the ultimate disposability of actresses in the grand old Boy’s Club of movie-making.

Merhige takes all of this weighty material and crafts a tantalizing portrait of the high cost of art and the dangers of obsessively brilliant artists.
And who else to play the narrative’s obsessively brilliant artist, but John Malkovich?
Malkovich’s Murnau is calculating and exacting, a cinema despot who asks his extras not to “act,” but rather, to “be.” In his white lab coat and goggles, he is the mad scientist only too willing to go to extreme lengths to complete his celluloid Monster.
But he meets his nemesis in Schreck, a role that Dafoe clearly dives into with relish. As part of the ruse, his Schreck is apparently the ultimate method actor, appearing to the cast and crew always in costume, and constantly in character.
And if you’ve seen Murnau’s Nosferatu, you’ll note that Dafoe nails the oddly disturbing mannerisms actor Max Schreck displayed in that classic of German Expressionism.
But it isn’t just that peculiar physicality that Dafoe brings to his performance. He also brings a humour, curiously both self-effacing and cunningly self-aware, as when, in one scene, he is at first coached as to his character’s motivation, before taking his first stab at ad lib.
Dafoe also brings a strange air of pathos to his character that serves to inform a role that could easily have been all melodramatic pantomime gesture and Vaudevillian tics, with some genuine longing and emotion.
What gives Shadow even more of a kick is how awesome and effective the rest of its cast is: genre stalwart Udo Kier, Eddie Izzard, Cary Elwes, Catherine McCormack, who all go about recreating scenes and sequences from Nosferatu like skilled and particularly respectful grave robbers, making the film, aside from everything else, a wonderful homage to a masterpiece of black-and-white cinema.

Shadow of the Vampire also has much in common with films like John Madden‘s Shakespeare In Love and Ken Russell’s Gothic, films which use actual historical figures to propose a fictional scenario that ultimately informs an artist’s work and creative sensibilities.
Or, as I put it earlier, films that show a behind-the-scenes-look-that-never-was of a film, or play, or novel.
So at this point, I think it should be stated in so many words: Shadow of the Vampire may have fangs, but it really isn’t about neck-biting and blood. It’s a fascinating and complex entry in the vaults of vampire cinema, one that is only willing and eager to be discussed and debated over.
After all, with so many funhouse mirrors around, it makes it that much harder to determine, where is the real Monster of the piece?
The ancient, bloodthirsty creature, only seeking to slake its inhuman thirst?
The despotic director, to whom all are merely a means to an end?
Or the film itself, the aforementioned end, for which all else is sacrificed?

Parting shot: A review of Merhige’s follow-up to Shadow of the Vampire, Suspect Zero, can be found in the Archive, where the article series “The Cinematic (Un)Life of Count Dracula” can also be found. Part I (“A Symphony of Shudders”) discusses F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu.

(Shadow of the Vampire OS courtesy of impawards.com [design by Samuels Advertising]; DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.co.uk.)

ISOLATION
(Review)

Isolation’s premise is simple: Dan (John Lynch) is a farmer who’s agreed to have some of his cows undergo an experimental procedure, courtesy of Bovine Genetics Technology. Dan’s not entirely sure what’s been done to his cows, but he’s about to find out.
And when he does, what we get from writer/director Billy O’Brien is an oppressive and terribly unsettling exercise in biological horror the likes of which we’ve not seen since the horror heyday of the ‘80’s.

O’Brien delivers up a taut and tense little nasty that exploits the Irish farm setting for all its unsanitary and repulsive worth, and, armed with a disturbingly designed beastie (by Stephen Brown and Philippa Wright), unleashes a no-nonsense horror movie that truly gets under the skin.
Quite possibly one of the best decisions made in this production was to go the way of physical, on-set effects. No cold, sterile CGI here. The effects are warm, and gooey, and horribly organic: Isolation is everything Species should have been, but wasn’t.
O’Brien pushes just the right panic buttons—fear of infection, of the act of reproduction gone terribly wrong, of the dire consequences of genetic tampering—to make modern audiences squirm uncomfortably in their seats. It’s been awhile since a film of this sort has been so spot-on in its desired effect of scaring the beejeezus out of its viewer.

Helping to ground the film are some rather good performances by a cast which, aside from Lynch (who starred in Richard Stanley’s low budget cyberpunk opus, Hardware, and the Gwyneth Paltrow-starrer, Sliding Doors), also includes The Matrix sequels’ Essie Davis (who also starred as Mrs. Lovett in the BBC TV adaptation of Sweeney Todd, opposite Mr. Beaver/Beowulf himself, Ray Winstone), Sean Harris (who was in Brothers of the Head and was Ian Curtis in Michael Winterbottom’s 24 Hour Party People), and Breakfast On Pluto’s Ruth Negga.
Their understated performances, amidst the fantastic and gruesome elements of the narrative, make the whole that much more believable.

Isolation is low budget horror that packs a potent punch, that gets you on a visceral level and leaves you disturbed, even after Jim Ford’s “I’m Going To Make You Love Me” has trailed off, and the end credits have completely rolled.
If horror’s your thing, you really should check it out. You’ll never look at a cow in the same way again…

(Isolation French OS courtesy of impawards.com; DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.co.uk.)

AFTERTHOUGHTS (60)
EMPIRE’S 50 GREATEST TV SHOWS EVER MADE!

And on Empire’s list…

45. Farscape 1999-2003
An Australian sci-fi series featuring muppet aliens from The Jim Henson Company – it's not exactly a pitch that says 'edgy' or even very good. Against the odds, though, Farscape emerged as an innovative, amusing and endlessly watchable romp as Astronaut John Crichton fumbled his way through life on the other side of the galaxy while dropping endless pop culture references that were clearly lost on his alien companions. In Claudia Black's Aeryn Sun was found one of sci-fi's favourite pin-up girls and the chemistry between Black and co-star Ben Browder was so apparent they were reunited after Farscape's cancellation for the final series of Stargate SG-1.

30. Dexter 2006-present
The last thing the world needed was another series about a forensic scientist but it certainly adds something to the mix when said CSI is also a recreational serial killer. Mischievously sadistic, Dexter is a darkly amusing tale of a psychopathic monster living in the heart of sunny Miami and trying to reconcile his stabbier urges with being an otherwise decent guy. Michael C Hall is flawless as the carver in question and the show sports one of the cleverest title sequences around.

27. Six Feet Under 2001-2005
Dark, comical and really rather wonderful, it's little wonder that Six Feet Under flowed from the same pen that gave us the equally incredible American Beauty. Alan Ball's HBO series about a dysfunctional Pasadena family who run an independent funeral home was a wonderful meditation on life, love and grief. Headed up by Peter Krause as the prodigal elder son Nate Fisher and featuring Michael C Hall, Frances Conroy, Lauren Ambrose and Rachel Griffiths, the cast, like every facet of this compelling production, oozed class.

25. Futurama 1999-present
It's unfair to compare Matt Groening's other show to The Simpsons. Because what is as good as The Simpsons? Judged on its own merits, this futuristic comedy about the bumbling employees of an intergalactic delivery company is witty, silly and completely non-sensical in just the right measure. It's got some characters who don't work (Hermes Conrad, we're looking at you), but Bender the antagonistic robot makes up for any faults. It was revived for a reason, you know?

24. Twin Peaks 1990-1991
Who killed Laura Palmer? That was the question on everyone's lips during 1990 as David Lynch's bizarre small town mystery unfolded on our screens. A demon called Bob, a little man who talked backward and minor pie fetish were just some of the features on display here. But despite a healthy dose of surrealism everything fell into place. Until the rather less appealing second season, that is, where the question on people's minds was more akin to 'Who is Windom Earle and what in God's name is going on?' but that's beside the point.

17. South Park 1997-present
The Guinness World Record holder for "Most swearing in an animated series," Trey Parker and Matt Stone's crudely animated monster is going strong more than ten years later after we were first introduced to Cartman and the boys. Still offending just about everybody on the planet, it has avoided jumping the shark by continuously changing its targets and, most importantly, remaining incredibly funny. While it's undeniably puerile, the secret of South Park's success lies in the fact that its intentions are essentially good. Those who challenge common sense and general decency are the ones in the firing line – anybody else who gets hit are, well, collateral damage.

15. Heroes 2006-present
We'd heard shows before boast about 'cinematic' production values, but Tim Kring's Heroes actually meant it. Every super-charged hour boasts lavish amounts of special effects – Hiro's time-freezing abilities are particularly cool – and a classy, noirish aesthetic partly inspired by M. Night Shyamalan's Unbreakable. But eye-candy alone wouldn't have won Heroes its place on this list. Kring's genius was in bolting the flashy action onto a slow-burning storyline full of shadows and mystery. And having a really cute, invincible cheerleader in the cast doesn't hurt none either.

13. Battlestar Galactica 2003-present
Dark, unflinching and often brutal, BSG is a very long way from the camp seventies show of the same name. In fact, given that this is one of the most pioneering sci-fi shows in decades, its name is probably its biggest liability. This is a show more concerned with internal rifts, politics and strife than spatial anomalies or aliens with forehead prosthetics, making it a far more introverted character-driven drama than anything in the Star Trek canon. Edward James Olmos' gravel-tongued Admiral leads a great cast of characters (Gaius Baltar, we salute you) and the epic space conflicts, portrayed with a shaky, hand-held style for realism, are blissfully rendered mayhem.

9. The X-Files 1993-2002
Created by surfing enthusiast Chris Carter, The X-Files proved to be the show that could do anything. It could modulate its tone from Twin Peaks creepy to Texas Chain Saw Massacre terrifying to Three Stooges silly. It had a pair of good-looking, charismatic heroes with deliciously simmering sexual chemistry – plus a rogue's gallery of memorable villains, including the putrid Flukeman, stretchy Eugene Tooms and butt-loving Cigarette Smoking Man. Of course, the long-running 'Myth-Arc' conspiracy plotline would have baffled Einstein and was never properly wrapped up in any case, but with at least one more big-screen outing lined up for Mulder and Scully there's still time to redeem the show that launched a thousand Dark Skies.

5. Lost 2004-present
Only time will tell whether it's as clever as it seems, but few TV shows have gripped viewers' imaginations like this hybrid of Swiss Family Robinson and Twin Peaks. An innovative structure in which each episode hones in on a different character, with flashbacks and flashforwards expanding their backstory, ensures the entire cast is fleshed out beyond the constraints of the primary narrative. But aside from the host of unique and colourful characters – from earnest Jack to cocky Sawyer, noble Jin to bug-eyed Ben – it's the epic mysteries at the core of the story that keeps us coming back. What powers does the island have? What's that polar bear doing in the tropics? And how come Hurley never loses weight despite being marooned on an island?

Note that all comments are from the article, a few of which I may not completely agree with.
As much fun as I manage to find in all the Island weirdness, I actually have been riveted to Lost more for the characters than anything else. I really do want to find out what happens to them…
And speaking of weirdness, I think Twin Peaks got short shrift here, considering any bizarre bits we may happen to find in television today, I feel can be traced all the way back to TP’s influence. (Even Empire makes mention of TP twice, in shows that ranked higher than it.)
Not only was its shadow only too evident on shows like Northern Exposure and Picket Fences, the massive cultural impact it had clearly made strangeness welcome on the small screen, paving the way for all the off-kilter programming that came in its wake, and continues to this day.
It’s also important to note that when TP was strange, it was truly strange. Network television had never been to such surreal spots before, and truth to tell, hasn’t really been there since.
(I also happen to rather like Season 2…)

At any rate, I’m still glad TP made the list, which you can find here. Check it out for more bits on these shows, and to see if your favourite series made Empire’s cut.

Parting shot: Episodic recaps/reactions of Battlestar Galactica, Dexter, Heroes, and Lost can be found in the Archive, along with a review of the Futurama straight-to-DVD feature, Bender’s Big Score.

(Lost OS courtesy of impawards.com; The X-Files 2 OS courtesy of aintitcool.com; Battlestar Galactica image courtesy of SCIFI Channel; Twin Peaks image courtesy of tarnishedlady.typepad.com; Dexter image courtesy of fanpop.com.)

LOST
Season 4 Episode 4
“Eggtown”
Written by Elizabeth Sarnoff & Greggory Nations
Directed by Stephen Williams
(WARNING: SPOILERS)

Back at the Barracks, Locke is still out of sorts, uncertain what his next move should be. He’s so desperate he actually tries to get Ben to tell him what needs to be done, something Ben crows about of course, observing Locke’s more lost now than he’s ever been.
Locke acts all cool but once he’s out of the room (but still within Ben’s hearing distance), he smashes some plates against the wall.
Ben.
Smiles.
(Why does Locke always do that? Act all cool and unruffled, then break some stuff when Ben can still hear? He did that back in the hatch too.)

Kate meanwhile, is actually living with Claire, while Sawyer is roomies with Hugo. Sawyer tries to woo Kate to stay with him, but she’s more interested in Miles.
Ahem.
To talk to Miles.
Kate tries to get Miles’ whereabouts out of Locke, but he keeps his lips sealed, and reminds Kate Jack isn’t in charge here and that this isn’t a democracy. (What did I say before? Locke can be just like Ben…)
So Kate finagles Miles’ location from an unsuspecting Hugo, and when she gets there, she asks Miles what he knows about her. Miles says he just wants one minute with someone, then he’ll tell her what she wants to know.
Kate asks, Who?
Miles says, You know who.

Kate then asks Sawyer for help to break Ben out so she can hook him up with Miles. (Ewww. That’s even more disturbing than Kate being interested in Miles.)
Oh, and Xanadu’s playing in the background…
Sawyer then shows up at Locke’s for a game of backgammon, during which time Locke seems to be fishing for what the popular vote is regarding his leadership. Sawyer says all the others are sheep, except maybe for Kate. Sawyer then tells Locke about Kate’s earlier request regarding Ben. Locke says, Whatever Miles has to say to Ben, I want to hear too.
So they head on off to the boathouse where Miles is being held, only to find him gone. (Cue Sawyer’s act of having been bamboozled by Kate…)

Kate brings the mountain to Mohammed, and can the angry young ghost whisperer get any sleazier? It turns out he wants $3.2 million from Ben, in exchange for Miles telling his employer that, Oh, you know what? We found Ben, but he was dead.
Miles wants the $3.2 mil in cash, in two days. Ben points out how that might be difficult given his current circumstances. So Miles gives him an extension: a week.
Idiot.
Kate then asks the idiot (oh, sorry, angry ghost whisperer) what he knows about her, and Miles tells her he knows about her fugitive status, as does the public at large, and that unless she wants to end up behind the bars just as soon as she’s rescued, she should probably just stay on the Island.
Locke then arrives and breaks up the party.

Locke visits Claire’s later on to have a chat with Kate, and asks her what Miles’ chat with Ben was all about. Kate tells him, then Locke promptly banishes her.
Kate goes to Sawyer’s, and tells him Locke’s decree, but Sawyer unbanishes Kate, and says he’ll take care of her. They start rasslin’ on the bed…
The next morning, Sawyer initiates some more rasslin’, but Kate’s having none of it (as she apparently had none of it last night as well). Sawyer thinks he gets it, and says, Oh, you’re still worried you’re pregnant.
Kate says, I’m not.
Sawyer’s relieved, though Kate just seems upset. Then she says she has to go. Sawyer says, You were just waiting for an excuse to leave, and now you’ve got it. Then he says, Fine. In a week, Jack’ll do something that’ll get you pissed off at him and you’ll come running back to me, to which Kate’s reply is a stinging slap.
Then she leaves.

Meanwhile, Locke, ticked off about the whole Kate-Miles-Ben thing (again, ewww), decides to leave a live grenade in Miles’ mouth…
Man, Locke is really flying off the rails…

Back at the beach, there’s a nice scene between Sun and Jin, with Jin looking a map of the U.S. over, picking places for them to live once they get off the Island, all of which meet with disapproval from Sun (“too hot,” “too many people,” etc.).
Sun asks, What’s wrong with Korea? (Uh, duhh, your shady criminal father lives there?)
Jin says, I learned English for you, so we can live in America.
Sun says, I want to raise my baby in Korea.
Jin says, Don’t you mean “our” baby?
But that conversation is interrupted by the arrival of Jack with Daniel and Charlotte.

Later on, Jack, concerned he hasn’t heard anything from Sayid, gets the Boat People to ‘fess up about the other emergencies-only number, which they ring up on their NaomiPhone, and which is answered by the still unseen Regina.
Daniel asks about the helicopter. Regina says, I thought the helicopter was with you…

Oh, and before we leave the Island this week, there’s one little scene that takes place in the Barracks, as Claire and Kate are hanging the laundry out to dry. Aaron starts to make a fuss, and Claire asks Kate, Can you pick him up and just rock him a little?
Kate looks really hesitant and says, I’m not very good with babies.
Claire says, Okay, and picks Aaron up herself. Then she says, You should try it some time…

And… onward flash-forward, ho!
Kate’s on trial for the gazillion and one crimes she’s wanted for, and when the prosecutor asks that she be held in custody for the duration of the trial, the judge agrees, and Kate’s cuffed and hauled off to jail.
Man, that was a surprisingly strong scene… You can see the whole “I can’t stand being tied down” vibe that just oozes off Evangeline Lilly.

Later on, Kate’s lawyer says, We’re in trouble, and your sick mother’s the prosecution’s star witness. He says, Let’s make this about character. Let’s bring him in.
Kate says, No. I’m not dragging my son into this. (Wait for it…)

In court, Kate’s lawyer brings in (without conferring with Kate first) Jack!
On the witness stand, Jack flat out lies: 8 people survived the crash; I almost died; Kate saved me; Kate saved us all…
Kate stands and says, Stop. This is my trial. What happened back there doesn’t matter.
Kate’s lawyer says, Fine. I got my answer.
And the prosecution pounces: Do you love Kate Austen, Dr. Shepard?
Gulp.
Jack: No. Not anymore.
Ho.
Lee.
Smoke.

Later on, Kate’s lawyer wheels Kate’s mum into a room so mother and daughter can talk.
Kate doesn’t want to, but she’s not really given a choice.
Momma Austen asks, Was what that doctor said true? That you saved all of them?
And she goes on to say, Things changed since the last time we saw each other (you know? That time I screamed bloody murder and called the fuzz on your a$$, baby girl?); things changed when I thought you were dead.
I didn’t want to testify against you.
Kate says, Then don’t.
Momma Austen says, Let me see my grandson.
Kate says, That’s what this is about? You wanted to make a deal?
Kate says, I don’t want you anywhere near him. Then, We’re done here.

At the following court date, the prosecution claims their star witness can’t testify due to medical reasons. Judge calls for a recess. Prosecutor Lady talks with Kate and her lawyer.
It turns out Momma Austen doesn’t want to testify against Kate anymore, and thus, their case is badly compromised now.
Plea bargaining ensues.
Kate will not take any prison time, so the deal is, Ten years probation, and Kate can’t leave the state. Kate says, Fine. I just want this over. I’m not going anywhere. I have a son. (Wait for it…)

Just as Kate is leaving the court house, Jack meets her.
Kate says, I’ve heard you tell that story so many times now, I’m starting to wonder if you believe it yourself.
Jack says, What I said up there? That wasn’t true.
Kate asks, You want to follow me? You want to see him?
Jack says, evasively, I actually have to get to the hospital, but can we meet for a coffee sometime?
Kate says, I understand why you don’t want to see him, but until you decide that you can, then there won’t be any meetings for coffee.
And Kate gets in her cab and leaves.

And she gets to her house…
And she greets someone who I assume is her housekeeper…
And she goes up to her son’s room…
And I’m thinking, What? Will he have Sawyer’s stubble and a conniving mind, or Jack’s bad hair and obsessive nature?
And Kate’s son turns out to be… Aaron…

I told you to wait for it…

So this episode slows down the Lost mythology a tad, as what we get is basically a story that puts the whole “shouldn’t Kate be rotting in jail after getting off the Island?” clamour conveniently to rest.
A little too neatly? Perhaps.
But they do smack you upside on the head with that cliffhanger.
So what happened to Claire? Did she get left back on the Island? Did she (gasp!) die?
But what about Des’ future-flash, of Claire and Aaron getting on a helicopter? Did Claire stupidly fall out of the helicopter? Or, distraught at Charlie’s death, plunge to a watery grave to join the ex-junkie rocker? (I kid, I kid…)

Seriously though, I am concerned about Claire’s welfare. I’d also like to think that Charlie’s sacrifice wasn’t for naught; after all, it was Des’ vision that was Charlie’s driving motivation to go diving to the Looking Glass.
And since the child Jack so obviously didn’t want to see is Aaron, that means he doesn’t want to be reminded of Claire. The important question at this point is, of course, does Jack already know that Aaron is his half-nephew?
After all, knowing about the biological connection could go either way: if Jack doesn’t know, then it’s simply because he’ll be reminded of Claire; and if he already knows, then Aaron will just remind him of his half-sister, making things even worse.
Then again, if Jack knew about the blood connection, he could get all obsessive-y as he sometimes does, which he clearly isn’t, as far as seeing Aaron.
Jack isn’t the easiest person to figure out…

All that, and we get a couple of scenes that feel like set-ups for subsequent episodes: the “what happened to the helicopter” scene is obviously an Island cliffhanger, and the Sun-Jin scene also feels like foreshadowing for some future episode.
Will we see Sun off the Island? Please, please, please let her be one of the Oceanic Six. Don’t let the bad sexist Island have its way with her and the baby…
And speaking of the Oceanic Six, we’re still looking at Jack, Hugo, Kate, and Sayid. (Ben and Aaron being part of the Six seems iffy to me at this point.)
So two more…
Can Sun be one of those two?
Please?

COUNTDOWN: 44.

Parting shot: Incidentally, the edition of Philip K. Dick’s Valis, which Locke brings to Ben along with his breakfast (of the last two eggs in town), is the exact same edition that I got to read from a friend’s library once…
I loved that book, and now have cause to hunt it down in the bargain bins, if only to read it again, to see if I missed something… (I may not like Locke a lot these days, but it does pay to listen to him once in a while…)

(Image courtesy of ABC and aol.com.)