On Queue: "The Prisoner"

What's not to love about this '60s British spy series?

The 1967 British television show, "The Prisoner," is one part Bond and one part 1984, with a splash of "Gilligan's Island" for good measure. You've got a spy trapped in the world's resort-iest prison, the creepy surveillance squad who watches his every move, and the amusing antics (art competitions, sun bathing, afternoon teas) that break up the monotony of his entrapment between daring escape attempts. We've watched only the first two installments of the 18-episode series so far, but "The Prisoner" is already our new favorite thing!

You can get the flavor of this quirky spy show from the opening credits, which shows a British agent (Patrick McGoohan) resign, go home to pack, and then fall victim to knock-out gas. The first episode opens with McGoohan waking in what appears to be his own room in London—except the view from the window looks like a European seaside resort. Turns out he's in the Village—an idyllic holding area for captured spies complete with restaurants, beautiful beaches, and even an old-folks' home—where he'll be kept until he reveals the reason behind his resignation. Of course, he won't talk, not before he knows who's in charge or where he is. The second-in-command, known as No. 2, gives him a number—No. 6—and an ultimatum to comply or he'll have to spend the rest of his life in the Village. So, of course, No. 6 spends every minute plotting his escape, when he's not provoking his captors with cutting remarks over tea.

The pilot alone is worth the price of admission. Here's why you should fast-track "The Prisoner" to the top of your queue:

• Tons of secrets! Where the heck is the Village? Why did No. 6 resign? And who is the mysterious No. 1 that no one sees? A good guy? A bad guy? A guy at all? Not to mention there's a new No. 2 every five minutes. What happens to the old ones?


• An attack weather balloon! Yeah, you read that right. This bad boy thwarts all escape attempts from the Village with its creepy, floaty roundness. Imagine that fluffy bubble that chauffeurs Glinda around Oz, only less pink and on stealth mode. CREEPY.


• Femmes fatales galore! In the first two episodes, No. 6 has already encountered three deadly damsels, each trying to play up her distress so that she can get close enough to probe his secrets. It's kind of fun that these aren't the era's fragile females—even if they're ultimately out for No. 1.


• High-tech hijinks! Dude, nothing is more hilarious than seeing what looked "high-tech" in the late '60s. Doors open by themselves (oooooh!), radios play without off-switches (aaaaah!), and furniture springs fully formed from the floor at the press of a button (whooooa!). The set designers went disappointingly Star Trek for most of the baddy HQ—bleeps, bloops, tiny blinking lights, and a wall-sized video screen—but kudos to whoever came up with the rotating surveillance see-saw.


• Campy quirks! Whip pans, quick cuts, and crash zooms abound. Pleasant PA announcements blare M*A*S*H style in the courtyard. Thunder crashes in the opening credits over images of No. 6's resignation. Not to mention there is a silly salute between Villagers, who hold the OK sign up to their eyeballs, flick their wrists, and say, "Be seeing you!" There's a tongue-in-cheek quality to the whole thing that keeps the episodes entertaining. Can't wait for the next disc!

"The Prisoner": *****

Reel Time: Six Flicks in a Year

A few films we saw live and in person.

If it weren't for the writers' strike of '08, rocky SAG negotiations, and general economic malaise, our household could probably take responsibility for Hollywood's reduced profits this past year. We're movie junkies, and until last spring, you'd find us at the neighborhood multiplex most weekends. We'd even stand in line for opening blockbusters (until we got wise about buying tickets in advance), and when the spirit moved us, we'd brave the traffic for a special showing at the Nuart, the El Capitan, or the Egyptian. We didn't go to hundreds of movies a year—but definitely dozens.

Last year, we saw six. While some parents apparently have no qualms about bundling up their infants and schlepping them to the latest horror flick (gasp!), we have not taken our addiction that far. At this point, a noisy, jerky light show would probably scar baby G for life—not to mention, he hasn't cottoned on to the magic of sitting still and staring at a screen for two hours. We still sneak the occasional Netflix rental (sometimes even managing to see the whole thing in one sitting!), but a trip to the cinema is rare. Thanks to the generosity of babysitting grandparents, however, we do get to the theater every once in a while. Here's a rundown of our ticket stubs from the past year:

1. WALL-E. *****
   This was a perfect first film for new parents! Pixar's signature storytelling prowess, the eye-popping animation, and the toe-tapping sample from Hello Dolly absolutely delighted us. And Ben Burtt's sound design was truly out of this world. We loved this story about a lonely, trash-compacting robot so much that we've seen it twice on DVD, too. Not only is it a lovely story about robot love, but it's also got some interesting social commentary about consumerism, obesity, and laziness that gives one pause without killing one's joy. The DVD extras—especially the commentary from director Andrew Stanton and Burtt's sound-design interview—are worth checking out!


2. Tropic Thunder. **
   One thing that happens when you haven't been to the movies in a while is that all the previews start to look amazing. We kind of fell into that trap with this uneven comedy directed by Ben Stiller, which follows a war-movie cast that gets dropped into the middle of an actual war zone. Implausibly, the actors spend a great deal of time believing that the whole thing is an elaborate set, before having to best the bad guys for real. Stiller leads a great cast, but some performers are wasted. Robert Downey, Jr.'s performance is pretty amazing (he plays an Australian method actor who undergoes a pigment-changing surgery to play an African-American character in the war film), but Jack Black is underused as a drug-addicted stooge. There are some really great moments—such as the hilarious fake movie previews at the beginning—but the over-the-top violence of the war scenes is too jarring. It's uncomfortable to watch, which was probably the point, but not my cup of tea.


3. Quantum of Solace. ***
   This was sleek, action-packed, forgettable fun. I remember so little of this 007 flick that I can't even report on it properly, which is why it gets a retroactive three stars (although at the time, I may have given it four). Calling a Bond film "plotless" isn't very descriptive, as a plot is rarely required—but this installment directed by Marc Forster is more plotless than usual. It picks up just after Casino Royale, which blew my little mind with its intensity, thrilling base-jumping scenes, and prominent Sony ad placements. Now that was a Bond film. Quantum of Solace is just a series of very cool car chases—but nothing amazing. Except, of course, Daniel Craig, who gives Bond a rugged athleticism that injects new life into the franchise.


4. My Name Is Bruce. **
   We have a working theory that Bruce Campbell movies are much more enjoyable if the B-action star is actually in the room with you. This is the second time we've seen him live at the Nuart (the first was for Bubba Ho-tep, in which he plays an elderly, mummy-slaying Elvis), and his Q&A session was definitely the highlight of both evenings. He's got this uncanny way of combining sarcastic put-downs with genuine fan appreciation. For example, when Rabid Fan Woman in the front row proffered roses and a bottle Jack Daniels, Campbell demurred, saying he doesn't touch "brown liquid," and handed her five dollars for her trouble. Someone else got a fiver for saying that My Name Is Bruce was his favorite Campbell film, proving that some people will say anything for a buck.
   Bruce Campbell directed this film about a monster-plagued town that hires (surprise!) B-action star Bruce Campbell to vanquish it. Of course, just like Tropic Thunder, it takes Bruce forever to figure out the monster is real. The monster itself, a Chinese war god that haunts the town cemetery, has some pretty entertaining wrath—but the surrounding lore and the portrayal of the Chinese character (Ted Raimi) who explains it are uncomfortably racist. Campbell does an OK job behind the camera (he admitted he only directs when he has to), but the script is a real drag. There are a couple of decent laughs and Campbell is a good sport about the self-parody as a drunken jerk, but the overall concept doesn't sustain a feature-length film. It's more of a B-movie knock-off than a spoof. Is there such a thing as a C-movie? Apparently so.


5. Gran Torino. *****
   I wasn't sure what to expect from this film, which was teased as old Clint Eastwood taking down gangland USA with a rifle. It looked both cool and ridiculous—like a wild urban romp. But that's not what it was. Against the backdrop of violent racial tensions—underscored by Eastwood's character's seemingly endless supply of racial epithets—is the story of a cantankerous widower and Korean war vet who is out of place in a changing world. That world is his own neighborhood in Detroit, where Eastwood spends his days drinking beer on the porch and cursing the neighbors, most of whom are Hmong refugees. It doesn't help when the kid next door tries to steal his prized Gran Torino as part of a gang initiation. Of course, Eastwood eventually befriends this kid and his sister and finds himself going up against the neighborhood gangsters as advertised. Probably the most chilling performances are from the actors who play Eastwood's sons and grandchildren, whose sense of entitlement and total lack of caring for their aging family member are all too lifelike. After the credits rolled, I felt like Eastwood had told me something true about the world, and I can't stop thinking about the film. I'm not sure why this one didn't get an Oscar, unless the Academy was tired of adding to Eastwood's collection. The song over the credits also made my day, punk.


6. Duplicity. ****
   This heisty rom-com probably deserves only three stars, but I'm feeling generous because it was surprisingly delightful. Sure, it is a little long, a little choppy, and a little convoluted, but Clive Owen is easy on the eyes, and his performance as former-MI-6-agent-gone-corporate-spy is fun and enjoyable. Even Julia Roberts, who usually annoys me, does a decent job as the CIA agent who gets under Owen's skin, and Paul Giamatti and Tom Wilkinson give hilarious performances as warring corporate bigwigs. I'm not going to go into the plot—because it's one of those where the less you know (and the lower your expectations), the more fun you will have—but I'm tickled that writer/director Tony Gilroy also wrote The Cutting Edge, which I have loved shamelessly since I was 13. Before you skating haters write him off for this, however, please note that he also penned the Bourne scripts and wrote and directed Michael Clayton, which was excellent. So there!

Music Beat: Classical Escapes

Don't find yourself stranded without these five classical albums.

Way back in the 90s, we kids would sometimes pass the time with questions like, "If you were stuck on a desert island, what five albums would you take with you?" Obviously, that was long before these newfangled iPods with their infinite storage capacity made the whole thing a moot point. If you were alone on a desert island with an iPhone, you'd probably never want to leave. You'd have every album and movie known to man, and if your private beach had WiFi, you could Google for coconut recipes, blog about raft building, and Twitter picts of yourself with your volleyball BFF to the folks back home.

But let's say ye olde deserte islande is back, and you're stuck with a Sony Walkman and five classical CDs. Which ones will keep your mind off the circling sharks? Well, I'll tell you.

1. Portrait of Vladimir Horowitz.
This collection isn't just the best of Horowitz (a celebrated pianist who lived from 1903 to 1989), but the best of piano. The anthology includes beautiful recordings of all the greats that I could only butcher during my piano lessons—Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata," Chopin's "Funeral March," and Mozart's "Alla Turca." It does not include Debussy's "Clair de Lune"; but if it did, it would have all of my favorites. Two gems on this album are the opening track, Scarlatti's "Sonata for Keyboard in E major, K. 531 (L. 430)," which rolls and trills like a lively, light rain, and Schumann's tender "Kinderszenen (Scenes from Childhood) for Piano, Op. 15 Träumerei," which possesses a quiet, haunting elegance. The latter piece served as the bridesmaids' entrance music for our wedding, and I think the music was so beautiful (as were the bridesmaids themselves, of course) that no one noticed the hatchet job the seamstress did on their dresses.


2. Humoresque: Favorite Violin Encores. My grandmother played this album so often that I get synesthesia every time I hear it. From the first note of "Flight of the Bumble Bee," I am on the couch in the my grandmother's den reading a book and chewing on the Riesen chocolate she just tossed me from her chair. This compilation from the great violinist Isaac Stern (who lived from 1920 to 2001) combines folk favorites such as "Greensleeves" and Brahms' "Hungarian Dances" with classic staples including Debussy's "Clair de Lune." His violin becomes almost a human voice in Schubert's "Ave Maria" and Foster's "Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair." Both Schubert's "Serenade" and Mendelssohn's "On Wings of Song" are achingly beautiful. This collection marries the lively, robust sounds of Copland's "Hoedown" (better known as the "Beef: It's what's for dinner" melody) with the melancholy whimsy of Kreisler's "Liebesleid." Each track is a treasure—it's hard to imagine a more delightful, satisfying collection.



3. Vivaldi: The Four Seasons. When I got my first stereo, I used to close the door to my room and pretend to conduct these four famous violin concertos. Air-conducting to a recording behind closed doors has its advantages—the musicians never make mistakes, and no one can see you flailing your arms like an idiot. Each concerto depicts a season. The opening violin strokes of "Spring" always make me sit bolt upright with a grin on my face. It's joy and precision and lyricism all bundled together. What's not to love? Our family once huddled on the steps of the National Museum in Prague to hear a live concert of "The Four Seasons"—it was surprisingly intimate and such a delight. If you can hear it live, don't miss it!



4. Rodrigo: Concierto de Aranjuez; Fantasia Para un Gentilhombre. My parents used to play the LP version of this album for guitar and orchestra during almost every dinner party. This beautiful performance by Australian guitar soloist and Andres Segovia protege John Williams (not the one of Star Wars fame) gave me a lifelong love of classical guitar. Somehow, the quiet voice of the guitar doesn't get swallowed up by the full-bodied roar of the orchestra. The first movement begins almost like a call and response between the guitar and the strings, winds, and brass. But the instruments ultimately weave together to build the energy of the piece, which crescendos to a spectacular finish. Wikipedia says this all much better—but it's probably best to just hear it for yourself.



5. Classic Williams: Romance of the Guitar. No album is more relaxing and refreshing than this gem from guitarist John Williams (the same soloist who performs the "Concierto de Aranjuez" mentioned above). The tone throughout the album may be gentle, but that does not make it boring. In each recording, Williams' guitar is as expressive and arresting as a good storyteller. Ponce's "Scherzino Mexicano," for example, may build on a repeated them, but the way Williams brings out the louds, softs, and pauses of the piece makes each repetition feel fresh. Every track is richly textured. As in Stern's "Humoresque," Williams' instrument becomes the human voice for some tracks, including Myers' "Cavatina" from the film, "The Deer Hunter"—a simple, but haunting melody. There are faster pieces, too, such as deFalla's "Danza Espanola" that highlight Williams' technical prowess. The album ends with the Adagio movement of Rodrigo's "Concierto de Aranjuez," which usually leaves me wanting to hear the whole piece from start to finish—which is why I'm bringing both albums to my desert island.

Of course, this is the age of the iPod, so no need to settle for just five albums. What classical treasures would you stash in your life vest?

Music Beat: Soothing Show Tunes

Musical numbers that put the "lull" in "lullaby."

When baby G arrived last year, he kept a simple schedule: Eat for an hour, sleep for an hour, repeat. Once we figured this out, it wasn't so hard to find a cat-napping rhythm of our own. Still, sleep deprivation does funny things to the brain—and the cells storing my musical memory short-circuited.

Like many new moms, I sang to the little guy all the time. But instead of the beautiful, child-appropriate ballads my mother sang to me, I was streaming pop music circa 1990. We're talking Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit," NKotB's "The Right Stuff" (ugh!), and the chorus to Snoop Dogg's "Who Am I (What's My Name)?" In one particularly bad moment, I churned through a piece of meta-pop from Neil Diamond called "The American Popular Song." That pulp—with the telling lyric "The American popular song goes on and on and on"—had been moldering in a corner of my brain since the early 80s.

Obviously, baby G's musical education needed an overhaul! Today, our MP3 player administers regular doses of indie rock songs, folk tunes, jazz sessions, British rock anthems, and classical recordings—but our favorite staple is the musical soundtrack. And why not? The lively song-and-dance numbers are like primary colors—bright, cheery, simple, and entertaining. So, it's no surprise that five of our favorite lullabies come from musical soundtracks. Here they are:

• "Moonshine Lullaby" from Annie Get Your Gun
  Illegal brewing has never been more soothing than in Bernadette Peters' rendition of this treasure from Irving Berlin. We saw her in the 1999 Broadway revival—and the incredible energy she had on stage comes through loud and clear in the recording. With lyrics like the following, how can you go wrong?
  
  "Behind the hill,
  There's a busy little still
  Where your Pappy's workin' in the moonlight.
  
  "Your lovin' paw
  Isn't quite within the law,
  So he's hidin' there behind the hill.
  
  "Bye, bye, baby.
  Stop your yawnin'.
  Don't cry, baby,
  Day will be dawning.
  
  "And when it does,
  From the mountain where he wuz,
  He'll be coming with a jug of moonshine."
  
  You get the idea.
  



• "Stay Awake" from Mary Poppins
  Julie Andrews tenderly delivers this clever piece of reverse psychology from Sherman and Sherman on the film soundtrack. The lyrics may preach resistance to bedtime, but the sleepy melody promises to carry kids off to dreamland before they can put up a fight:
  
  "Stay awake, don't rest your head.
  Don't lie down upon your bed.
  While the moon drifts in the skies,
  Stay awake, don't close your eyes.
  
  "Though the world is fast asleep,
  Though your pillow's soft and deep,
  You're not sleepy as you seem.
  Stay awake, don't nod and dream;
  Stay awake, don't nod and dream."
  



• "Edelweiss" from The Sound of Music
  When I was 10 and wanted my cat to climb up on the bed with me, all I had to do was sing this Rogers and Hammerstein favorite from The Sound of Music. What can I say? The cat had taste. There's something intimate and comforting about the acoustic guitar accompaniment (which my mom played for me when she taught me the song). And the lyrics are hopeful and happy, with a dash of nationalism—just what every kid needs, right?
  
  "Edelweiss, Edelweiss,
  Every morning you greet me.
  Small and white, clean and bright,
  You look happy to meet me.
  
  "Blossom of snow,
  May you bloom and grow,
  Bloom and grow forever.
  
  "Edelweiss, Edelweiss,
  Bless my homeland forever."
  



• "Good Night, My Someone" from The Music Man
  My mom taught me this ballad from Meredith Willson's The Music Man for one of those elementary school talent shows, and I just loved the idea of singing a lullaby to a person I'd never met. The unknown person, of course, is one's true love: "I must depend on a wish and a star as long as my heart doesn't know who you are." Swoon, right? This chorus came right back to me when I was rocking baby G one night, which gave me hope for recovered brain cells:
  
  "Sweet dreams be yours, dear,
  If dreams there be,
  Sweet dreams to carry you close to me.
  I wish they may, and I wish they might;
  Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight."
  



• "A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes" from Cinderella

A song from a Disney animated feature may not exactly count as a "show tune"—but it's my list, and I'm making an exception! Ilene Woods' warm voice carries this dreamy tune from Mack David, Al Hoffman, and Jerry Livingston. Unfortunately, on our version, there is a clanging clock that sounds in the middle of the track, followed by a cranky lament from Cinderella herself. But if you can get around those bits, or just sing it yourself, it's a sweet melody.

I'm a sucker for optimism, and this song is chock-full:

"A dream is a wish your heart makes,
When you're fast asleep.
In dreams, you will lose your heartaches.
Whatever you wish for, you keep.

"Have faith in your dreams, and someday
Your rainbow will come smiling through.
No matter how your heart is grieving,
If you keep on believing,
The dream that you wish will come true."

Maintenance

It's been too long between posts, dear reader (yes, you!). So, here turns the new leaf. The next few entries will be experiments with that HTML staple, the unordered list, in the hopes that this will encourage shorter, more positive, and more frequent updates. Only time will tell. Stay tuned...