I don't spend a lot of time (any, as a rule) on industry gossip (a crime punishable by death --or worse-- social exile) but I'm surrounded by the aftershocks around WB and UPN and this new CBS Warner venture. I'm relieved that Veronica Mars is already assured a slot; the Gilmore Girls may safe as well (even if does seem to be nearing the end of it's natural life cycle. It's still written better than most of the stuff on the screen.
Last night's Love Monkey was funny, intelligent; maybe not as tight as the premiere, but still well done.
And how cheeky was it calling that the "season finale" of Surface; as much as I want to see more of it, I don't trust the network to continue it in the Fall (nothing is sure in this town, except that the ground will shake underneath you at some point). In that final scene where the four heroes were running through downtown Wilmington away from the tsunami, I focused on the Princess Street sign they passed under, near the site of my great-grandfather Alex Manly's newspaper, the Wilmington Record, destroyed by a lynch mob on Nov. 10, 1898. Freaky. Then that last shot when the camera pulled away with them atop the church steeple, the whole town underwater. Cool. Cheesy CGI (like I could even tell --that I only had a 72" plasma screen to really see how cheesy!) but still it was cool nevertheless.
On page 31 and again on page 78 of the Feb. 20 issue of IN Los Angeles, there were two attacks on GLAAD questioning whether it was an organization that had outlived it's usefulness. Yet on page 20 of the same issue, no less than a half dozen incidents of antigay violence or hate speech were documented. It would seem most of those who think GLAAD unnecessary are less than willing to risk their own necks along with whatever tenuous status they have with the majority at the expense of the gay community as a whole. Hmmm.
It may seem cruel to say this, but forest fires make for spectacular sunsets. Of course, the wind has to blow just right, or you can't see it. This afternoon, downtown LA was clear and windswept clean with the strange gray mass in the sky making a great backdrop. The drifting smoke made for all manner of pinks and oranges once the sun lowered to the horizon, with the silhouettes of the palm trees pillars of black.
The falling ash recalled the nuclear fallout that never came during the Cold War. Jim took me to see "It Came From Beyond" last week, a musical spoof of those drive-in movies of the 1950s. It mostly worked; one number in particular included 'duck and cover' choreography familiar to any baby boomer. Today the ash was less benign (for those of use who don't live near any of the fires). What's really scary: the first of the boomers are turning 60! That's news I just do not want to hear!
Another 400 more homes were evacuated, and there are more fires in Malibu and Santa Clarita. So very Nathaniel West.