TiVo Lady

TiVo Interlude

What with the Week of Book Promotion upon me -- Beyond the Mommy Years is launched -- I've been neglecting my TiVo.  But my TiVo has not been neglecting me, no siree.  Just when I think my TiVo may never quite figure me out (as in, "I don't speak Spanish, TiVo dude!), it records a charming movie that I've never seen before.  A tiny little reward for my patience.  (I quietly do three red "Thumbs Down" every time it records a movie in Spanish. Sometimes I yell at it about this, but to little effect.) 

My TiVo presented me with Aeon Flux this week, a sci-fi thriller starring Charlize Theron as a future-y ninja lady/deadly assassin/clone.  The plot doesn't quite hold together, but the visual effects and ideas about the year 2415 are stunning.  Everything is future-y and cool:  the clothing is mono-kini-ish and exotic; the glasses pour clear liquid that turns fizzy and yellow, then dark; the grass and trees and fruit becoming killing weapons; and a Gal Friday type-ninja lady has her feet modified to become hands. Also, Charlize gets an imprint on her arm that's a map;  her ear rings when someone wants to speak to her, I mean her actual ear lights up and rings like a phone, and then she processes the voice in her head;  she gets a message she has to drink;  and there'sa giant flying jellyfish that flies over Bregna, which is the last city on Earth.  Everything has the look of a sleek, knowable future -- though the future will always be unknowable, so our guesses are only as good as the present can make them.  Frances McDormand (Boomer, born 1957) shows up as a remote Boss Lady, who appears only as an ESP-type message in the brain:  she's got pulsating red hair, for some reason.

My standards have apparently gone way, way down this summer.  Okay, the movie is silly--but I just love this kind of future-y stuff, parts of the world to come that I will never get to see.

Big Love's final episode, "Oh, Pioneers," this week.  Creepy as ever, of course, with Nicki getting all the best lines.  Like this one, when Margene announces that she really does want to become a surrogate mother for a neighbor, in front of Ana, the waitress who'd been wooed by Bill, who's already got three wives.

Nicki:  "This is certainly not a matter to be discussing between a wife and a wife and a wife and a new friend, especially with family visiting. . . Our husband will have strong feelings about this matter."

Later, to chastize Margene's growing sense of empowerment, Nicki scolds her again.

Nicki:  "You're the youngest and the shiniest and the newest, and arguably, somewhat attractive.  You don't get to have those things and have more power over us."

Chloe Sevigny delivers these delicious lines with her eyes squinched up in suspicion, her lips pursed, her mouth in a gnarly scowl.  She's perfect.

The lynchpin of the show, though, is Bill Henrickson, he of the three wives, played by Bill Paxton, a very well-aged Boomer (born in 1955).  The problem, though, is that he has become so venal, so morally corrupt and greedy and vindictive, that it's getting more and more difficult to sympathize with his bizarre polygamous plight.  He's also fairly blind to the many ways in which his life is falling apart all around him.  In this Season Finale, for instance, his precious 17-year-old daughter has given up her virginity to her scrawny, 26-year-old boyfriend; Alby Grant has engineered the arrest of his father, Roman, after the Plan to Poison the Patriarch failed; his demented mother, Lois, is trying to persuade the even nuttier sister-in-law, Wanda, to poison Roman with anti-freeze;  and his first wife, Barb, is onto his wooing of a potential fourth wife.  BIll's creepiness grows with each episode:  still, I can't turn away.

Wackiest TV Show Ever

Someday, maybe even soon, I'll be able to post a video clip of my "Today" show appearance.  Or, maybe not. 

Meanwhile, I'm fairly embarrassed to be watching most of the TiVo I'm watching this summer, except for Big Love, which has the wackiest, craziest, most insane script of any television show ever written in any galaxy.  Think I'm exaggerating?  How about this week's episode, "Take Me As I Am," when Ben, the son of first-wife Barb, tells his mom, "These are my girlfriends, Susie and Penny."  (See, they're identical twins, and he's thinking of "living the principle," she he gets to date multiples, kind of as practice for having multiple wives, I guess.)

Earlier in the show, Niki, the somewhat-demented, morally-compromised second wife, scolds third-wife Margene, who has just announced that she may want to be a surrogate mother for an infertile neighbor.  She shrieks, quite witchily, that Margene can't possibly even think of doing such a thing.

"Because our purpose is to bring superior souls into this family, not to give them away to every barren Sue, Jane and Sally on the block."

This week, the driving plot-point was the wedding of Barb's estranged mother, played by Ellen Burstyn (pre-Boomer, born in 1932), who hadn't actually invited Barb to the ceremony or party.  The entire Henrickson clan eventually crashes the party, under the withering and disapproving stares of just about all the guests.  At the table, an evil-eyed 10-year-old cousin turns to our Hero Patriarch, Bill of the Three Wives, and asks him this:

Cute Little Niece:  "Uncle Bill, can you really say that your apostacy has brought you serenity and joy?"

Bill:  "Shut up."

Ah, True Bill peeks out!

And, finally, my favorite line of the night popped up during an intense, emotionally-draining  confrontation between Barb, played by the always-perfect Boomer, Jeanne Tripplehorn (born in 1963), and her mother, played by Burstyn.  Barb is begging her mother to speak to her "in this life," since she confesses that she's not sure they'll be together for eternity in the afterlife.  (What with this second marriage business, and Barb being in a polygamous marriage, could be there are different after-life facilities for  families with two-plus wives.)

Barb's Mom:  "I can't just tolerate you.  You're my daughter.  I'm responsible for your eternal salvation."  (Cue tears.)

1960 Was Evil

Here's what I learned in the second episode of Mad Men, "Ladies Room."  In 1960, which was basically a leftover year more like the 1950's, this is how it was:

1. All men were unfaithful, screwing their way around the office.

2. All women tolerated this behavior, because they were so busy scheming and conniving to trap a man into marriage.

3. Everyone smoked, constantly.  Everyone drank, a lot.

4. Nobody really talked about anything.

Also, unacceptably weird things were considered completely normal, such as:

A. A little girl was playing by walking around with a plastic bag over her head.  Her mom scolded her, not for almost suffocating herself, but for leaving the mom's cleaning on the floor.

B. When a wife visited a shrink, the doctor called the husband later to tell him every single thing that the woman said.  So much for doctor-patient confidentiality.

Aren't you glad that there isn't, like, some giant, globe-sized time machine that can hurl the whole planet back into the year 1960?

If there were, we'd never, ever be watching a show like Big Love, that's for sure!  This week, "Kingdom Come," was very juicy, and it became clear that Margene is the sexual Bad Girl, Nicki is the Good Girl, and Barb, well, she's just no longer a girl.  Also becoming more and more reminiscent of The Sopranos, only with nutty, polygamous Mormons instead of corpulent, hypocritical Italians.

I don't know how the show can survive, dramatically, without Evil Roman to hate.  But he's been shot by the crazed-female duo from the even-more-insane polygamous sect headed by the Greens.  And it looked fatal to me, though maybe he'll just have a really long, really-TV-unrealistic recovery period. 

Then, there's Flight of the Conchords.  This week's episode, "Drive By," is all about prejudice.  The East Asian guy who sells fruit won't sell an apple and a banana to Germaine and Bret because he doesn't like their kind.  Meaning New Zealanders.  Their dense friend, Dave, explains the facts of American life to them.

"There's a lot of prejudism here.  Especially toward people like you, the English and whatnot, red coats, oppressors.  You're pretty much the most disliked race in this whole country."

"What about black people," Germaine asks.

"They don't like you either."

It turns out that the fruit guy was simply confusing the boys with Australians, the people he actually hates.  Meanwhile, the guys are watching a tape from home, with their favorite TV shows, including "The Dog Show," "What've You Done With My Hat?" and my favorite, "Albi, the Racist Dragon."  This is random;  also, hilarious.  Despite the absence of any Boomers whatsoever.

They sing, too.

Sicker than Sick

New nomination for nuttiest line Big Love line ever, when BIll scolds third wife Margene for befriending his immigrant waitress crush: 

"You're my wife Margene, you can't be seeing the girl I'm dating!"

See, Bill was waiting to see if there was a "celestial calling" in the hots he had for waitress, Ana, or some kind of crap like that.  Meanwhile, Margene had figured out what he was up to, cuddled up to Ana, and fell into some kind of homoerotic worship of the Slavic pink-collar worker.  She was, like, all ready for her fourth soulmate--the other three being hubby plus two sister wives, as she explained to Ana in this episode, "Dating Game."  (Ana is finally on HBO's cast and crew list, though who knows what that means for her future in this Big Family.)

Also, a mystery Bad Guy shows up -- have we ever heard of him before? -- who makes evil Roman look like a fuzzy grandpa.  This guy, Hollis somebody, is about ready to brand Bill on the buttocks for trying to buy Weber gaming, when Bill lies and says that Roman was really the buyer.  Whew:  mystery branding averted!  So, maybe, even whoever-the-hell-Hollis is intimidated by Roman.

This show just gets nuttier and nuttier.  And I haven't even mentioned the lying, scheming, 15-year-old former child bride, Rhonda, who hugs Barb and says "I love you Barb," with a behind-the-back sneer, and then hisses into her ear, "Kiss off," while walking away.  Creepy Polygamists.

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Big Love = Big Mistake

Big Love skates on a thin edge of acceptability;  for it to work, the viewer must feel some amount of empathy and compassion for Bill Henrickson, the man with three wives.  This is a guy who really doesn't deserve to have three women cooking and cleaning and bearing children for him, but I accept his position as big lover of the big family because I admire the women and their relationship with each other.  Still, if you think about it too long, it's more than a little skeevy that their husband is sleeping with their best friends.  Maybe that's why it feels right when Bill is embattled:  fighting for survival against his evil father-in-law, Roman, or facing off against his nutty mother, or trying to sexually satisfy three strong women while running a business and providing for a family of ten.

For these reasons, I found it offensive and just wrong when Bill starts oogling this Serbian waitress, Ana.  Taking off the wedding ring was the last straw;  it made me wonder whether I'm watching a show about a Mormon lecher who can't keep it in his pants, only instead of cheating on wife number one, he just gets married every time he finds a woman he wants to sleep with.  And the closing scene, with Margene, wife number three, watching her husband romance potential wife number four, through a diner window, is heartbreaking and troubling.  Yech.

P.S. Careful viewing of the credits that appear at the end of this episode reveal that Yugoslav actress Branka Katic plays Ana.  But on her IMDb listing, there is, oddly, no credit for Big Love.  Nothing.  Does this mean that someone simply forgot to mention it?  Or is HBO trying to keep a lid on a new, permanent character:  Fourth Slav Wife, perhaps?

Don't Read This Book

Like Brownies and Boy Scouts, kindergarten teachers and the Dali Lama, who only say nice things about people, or nothing at all, I prefer to say good things about the books I read.  (Though I don't generally extend that rule to people, just to books.)  And I had high hopes for the latest book by the deeply-bizarre, usually off-kilter Japanese writer, Haruki Murakami, After Dark.  He wrote the wonderful novel, Kafka on the Shore, about a 15-year-old boy named Kafka Tamura, who runs away from home.  It's a riveting, an off-center thriller that sucks you in and won't let go.  Unfortunately, the new book focuses on Mari Asai, 19, who (also) runs away from home for the night, interprets for a beaten-up Chinese prostitute, and hangs out with a guy who plays trombone.  Oh, and her model-beautiful sister is at home, asleep, where she's been in a voluntary coma for three months.  And sometimes she enters another dimension, which seems to be in the television screen that's in her bedroom.  These few events happen over the course of a single night.  But, at the end, I just want to say:  uh, so?  Not the reaction most novelists would like to inspire.  Better luck next time, Haruki.  (This is his 12th novel, and you can't hit a home run every time, so I'll try again with 13.)

Big Love, on the other hand, was so disturbing and action-packed this week that I couldn't watch it all at once.  Apparently, there's a formula for polygamous families go like this: 

Three wives + One husband = Lots of Drama

Also, in this show, nobody is quite who they seem.  Rhonda, the virginal-looking, trembly 15-year-old who is betrothed to ruthless geezer Roman, head of the Juniper Creek compound with 14 wives, is actually a scheming, treacherous hussy without an ounce of conscience.  She sneaks into Nikki and Bill's car, basically kidnapping herself out of the compound to escape the marriage--and also to ruin the Hendricksons' already-crumbling lives.  (This sneaking-into-the-car thing happens often on television shows and in movies, but I don't get it.  Don't they notice that there's another person in the back?)  I can't stand this kind of suspense because I really care what happens to this loopy, illegal and ridiculous family.  That takes some great writing--to get me, and millions of other viewers--to root for a nutty sort-of-Mormon family with one husband, three wives (two of whom were former babysitters), six children (I think) and another on the way.  I'm still astounded, every week, by how much I enjoy this show.

Growing Love for Big Love

I know I'm watching a good episode when I have to keep pausing the TiVo to write down dialogue.   Viewing this week's Big Love, "Reunion," I had to stop so many times it was like stutter-watching!

Take this great scene, when Nicki's Mom, Adaleen Grant, played by the wonderful uber-Boomer, Mary Kay Place, has a running dialogue with an unidentified young girl to try and explain her family tree: 

"I'm 32 of 56 children . . . and when I married Roman, I became my own step-grandma. . . which of course makes me my own grandmother."  Then, she gives the child a great, warm, and totally creepy, smile.

Then, we see Adaleen Grant illustrate this point:  Big Love means Big Meat.  I really like Mary Kay Place, an older Boomer, born in 1947, along with Harry Dean Stanton, who plays her husband, Roman Grant.  Stanton was born in 1926--making him 81 years old.  No way.  That can't be.  Here he is, in all his creepy glory, with some of his 14 wives.  (He also has 31 children and 187 grandchildren!)

Evil Roman, who apparently loves to watch "The Newlywed Game", says to his 14-year-old future bride (number 15):  "The Angels will sing for us," and makes it seem even more demented and twisted than it already is.  In another scene, he says to his treacherous son, Alby, just two words:  "Capitulate now." You tremble for Alby, awful as he is, when you hear Stanton's voice, intoning like the Devil Himself.

Finally, Barb Henrickson, the senior wife, played by lovely Boomer Jeanne Tripplehorn (born in 1963), is hosting a book club.  All of the women seem to be plural wives themselves--I guess it's an example of the REAL First Wives Club!  One of her friends complains about the public image of polygamist families:  "It's all Larry King and Anderson Cooper's fault.  They make us look like retards and perverts.  Over and over with those women, with their teeth and those sneakers.  Couldn't they just show one normal plural family for a change?"

It's deliciously sick and hypnotically fascinating, all at once.

The real mystery, to me, is why HBO feels a need to invent a game, called "Big Love Land," which is featured on the website.  Uh, why?  Isn't the whole premise odd enough?

Maybe it's just an internets thing. . .

Another Gift From HBO

I don't confess to many people that I watched Big Love from the start, probably because the show is so good I felt almost immediate empathy with, and sympathy for, a polygamous family.  Yikes!  I wouldn't have believed it possible!!!  I still don't get the appeal of the husband, Bill Henrickson, and why three women would want to marry this particular guy in the first place.  As played by Bill Paxton, he's an attractive Boomer who kinda needs some pharmaceutical help to keep up with his three wives, sexually that is.  (Paxton was born in 1955.)  But it's his first and original wife, Barbara, with whom I really identify.  Played by Jeanne Tripplehorn, born in 1963 (so also a Boomer), she's lovely to look at, but also has an edge of experience written on her face.  In this first episode of the second season, "Damage Control," it becomes clear that the family revolves not around Bill, the only husband in sight, but around Barbara, its first wife.  When Barb leaves the homestead in frustration, everybody freaks out, including second wife Nicki and third wife, Margene.  Margene, played by the 29-year-old Ginnifer Goodwin, is devastated.

"I don't know if I can be married to Nicki and Bill if I'm not married to you," she moans to Barb.

Later, she mutters to herself:  "I'm sitting around, happy as a clam, and poof!, my family collapses around me.  It's the story of my life."  Even Nicki, the independent, somewhat sour, credit-card-abusing middle wife is miffed.

"I didn't marry just Bill, I married you and Bill and I need that back," she explains to Barb.

It's great television that can evoke such powerful feelings of sympathy and affection for people who are members of what is basically a nutty and illegal Mormon cult.