YOU FINALLY, *REALLY* DID IT
I’ve been on the Internet a long time; seen a lot of strange stuff but I’ve never seen anything to make me believe there’s one all-powerful Force controlling everything. No; wait.
Good friends of mine know I love the Mendonoma Coast and subscribe to the paper of record up there called the Independent Coast Observer. There’s a little column, tucked in there with the “Mark Your Calendar” listings, called “Mr. Smee’s Video Picks.”
Maybe I’ve had an extremely blessed existence, or something, but any song I’d choose as “Best Love Song Ever” would highlight unbearable happiness as well as the unbearable pain but I allow that may just be me. Love’s a two-sided coin, and any “Best Love Song Ever” would have to hit both sides, for me.
My friend Jon Hastings pointed out a couple weeks back about how unlikely it would be that the SFPD would be the ones to track down a perp in a Colma graveyard, and I went through some heavy mental contortions to try to convince him that of course they have no jurisdiction, but in hot pursuit a case could be made and he begrudgingly agreed. But last night was such a mess of not-even-trying-to-get-it right that from now on I’m not even going to point out the geographical and cultural differences between San Francisco and the “San Francisco” in which this show is set, because they’re not really even trying. And by “from now on” I mean “after this one.”
Ten years ago, now, I had a weekly column on Comic Book Resources called “Loose Cannon.” I know that some writers look back at their early stuff and blanch, but I look back on the stuff I once wrote and marvel how good it came out given the resources and abilities I had available to me at the time.
I really, really want to like Alcatraz, but it’s just not the English major Super Bowl that LOST was. One of the drawbacks of the Alcatraz set-up is that it’s the anti-LOST. The reverse of the LOST premise. Instead of wondering what’s happening to all the pretty people on the mysterious Island, we’re wondering what’s happening with the premise. Instead of cluing in on approachable characters, who the audience roots for to solve the mystery that unfolds in puzzle pieces, in Alcatraz the audience is presented a mystery and then doled out characters who themselves are puzzle pieces in the strange goings-on. If these two shows were desserts, LOST would be a great big cake with a gooey inside, and Alcatraz would be a collection of eggs, flour and sugar on the counter which will be a tasty cake someday with a little application of effort. I’m not saying it’s not a cake; it’s just not a cake yet. Which I suppose is appropriate for a show that hinges on time-travel of some sort.