HBO GO 'Way

Back in the late 80s, comedian Doug Ferrari had a great riff about cable TV.
"You know HBO stands for? 'Hey! BEASTMASTER's on!'"
And we've come full circle, which is why I have broken up with Home Box Office after several years.
It's been a good run. They blazed a trail for what I consider the Platinum Age of Television with THE SOPRANOS, THE WIRE, DEADWOOD, et al. Their documentary series has been stellar as well as their original films, recent examples being TEMPLE GRANDIN and BEHIND THE CANDELABRA. Much of the rest of their programming has touched the stars also. The book DIFFICULT MEN by Brett Martin delves into how this network took command early and how it has lost its footing.

The sad truth is that the well is running dry and this sort of pay service is going the way of the dinosaur. Recent shows have been blah at best, though HBO can still trot out a classic like GAMES OF THRONES or BOARDWALK EMPIRE every now and then, but there are other platforms out there to find the shows you want to see. This is true in the case of the critically lauded TRUE DETECTIVE. As far as GIRLS, a show I admired in its first season, well...that appears to have been a momentary fling. Season Two gave me the hives. And if I have to see Lena Dunham's bare arms one more freaking time, I'm going take a permanent Sharpie to that goddamn Alice in Wonderland tattoo of hers. Get some sleeves, sister.
But their movie choices they've made available are laughable at best. They seem to have purchased Blockbuster's back catalog before that pterodactyl croaked in the tar pit. The greatest hits of the 80s and 90s? Hardly. Never mind BEASTMASTER. How about BEETHOVEN, that irascible St Bernard laugh riot? Oh, what a lovable lug!
Their platforming is archaic and desperately need of a revamp. One channel blurs into another with no distinction except Latino and Children's. It's laziness. It's just filling air time like every other cable channel except it costs extra. And adding an app offering the same crap ain't exactly moving forward, only sideways.
So as HBO goes the way of the dodo, as do I in the opposite direction, slowly evolving as I attempt to wean myself off the cable teat.

 We wish HBO well in its future endeavors.
  

National Lampoon's Staycation

Last week, I took some time off (or gave myself a time out, whichever the case may be) for some much needed R n' R. This is something I ridiculously consider a luxury because, quite honestly, I never give this particular sucker an even break and consider PTO so valuable that I don't want to spend a minute. But since accumulation of same is maxed out, necessity became the mother of reinvention as my brain pan was coated with over-cooked reality. Thus, I withdrew some hours and took a vacation. Since I didn't leave town, per se, one clever ass in the hat has dubbed this a "stay-cation". This was probably the same Alexandre Dumb-Ass who also came up with "bromance" and calls sandwiches "sammies".

In true Cherney style,, the week began with just about every electronic device in my possession going on the fritz-phone, computer, cable TV-and almost immediately, I went apoplectic and damn near suicidal with fears of what next might crap out. I wanted to beat them to the punch and depart this world before they did because I JUST COULDN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE. Technology is not my my friend. Oh, who am I kidding? My nemesis is basically anything with moving parts. I probably have an Neanderthal ancestor who fretted when the fire burned out and poured out his guts on a cave wall.   

"How fire work? Oh, woe is Kronk."

Kronk Cherney, caveman blogger.

Of course as I post these thoughts online, the irony is just so very...over-bearing. And my angst? Over-dramatic, to say the least and the least said the better. Yes, I over-reacted as everything returned to what I considered normal and you can all just consider these the rantings and ravings of One Whiny Bitch. That's what they used to call Kronk.

Frankly, I just wanted my cable back. There was a bountiful feast of programs just waiting for me and I wanted to gorge since I finally had the time to do so. I got my greedy little wish and dove in head-first. I caught up on TREME, BOARDWALK EMPIRE, LOUIE, HOMELAND, SONS OF ANARCHY, DOCTOR WHO (guest starring my buddy the great Mike McShane), HELL ON WHEELS to name just a few.

You have your choice of two quotes here.

Jimmy Kimmel at this year's Emmy telecast: "There's a lot of great stuff on. I'm going to have to go out less."
or
Woody Allen in ANNIE HALL: "And eventually, you grow old and die."

Both actually apply.

HONEY BOO BOO aside, this really is the Platinum Age of television. No longer the Vast Wasteland, unless you count Bravo and TLC, TV has it all over the movies these days and that pains me to even consider those words.

This is why I am so over the moon about BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD,  the brilliant first film from director Benh Zeitlin that has actually restored my faith in the future of cinema once again. This fanciful tale of the Louisiana bayou told through a child's eyes grabbed me from the first frame to the last, a near-perfect fusion of fantasy and reality. Its sultry atmosphere and dreamy ambiance just wrapped me up and transported me to another world in time and place. That's where cinema-GOOD cinema-has the upper hand over television. Zeitlin's is one of the finest debuts from an American filmmaker since Terrence Malick's BADLANDS back in the Seventies (a film I don't think Malick has exceeded). But BEASTS would be only half as good without the extraordinary once-in-a-lifetime performance from Quvenzhané Wallis as the fierce heroine Hush-Puppy. Forget Batman and all of The Avengers. Hush-Puppy is the true super-heroine of summer 2012. She is one fierce Beast.

The rest of the week included stops at Portland culinary destinations like Bunk Sandwiches and Chef Andy Ricker's Pok Pok knock-off, the Whiskey Soda Lounge. This latter featured Vietnamese bar food like those amazing fish sauce chicken wings as well as a dish called Miang Cham-chilies, ginger, peanuts, dried shrimp, lime, shallot and coconut all minced and wrapped up in a betel leaves. A one bite wonder.

To justify an annual membership fee, the week finished at the Portland Art Museum for the new show, The Body Beautiful, presented in conjunction with the British Museum. The Body Beautiful is a collection of Greek and Roman art, much of it never seen before in the U.S. Yes, it's the kind of show that make you want to clap your hands together and chant "Hercules! Hercules! Hercules!" But as usual, what sticks in my craw (which is found right up my ass) is the General Public. At what point in time has it been acceptable to bring a camera or even use one's phone as such in a goddamn art museum? I don't want a bunch of rubes flashing their doo-dads like a spastic paparazzi when I'm trying to enjoy the fucking art. The Gossip Girls posing with the discus thrower just about made me lose my Miang Cham. Does everything have to be chronicled and documented instead of just experienced? (Yes, I'm blogging about it. Irony. Yeah, we already covered that. Move on.) What's next PAM...laser tag? Cameras in art museums, wham bam, no thank you, PAM.

And finally, the grand finale of the week was a personal triumph for your humble narrator. I actually did some damn writing that didn't involve blogging, posting or anything online. I finished the first draft of my next book, even rocked it old school by penning it all in long-hand. Now the real hard part begins as I move on to the next level by trying read my own scribbling. Does anybody know Sanscrit?

To the right is a visual clue about said future magnum opus.

Let me tell you something, my friends. Getting back to basics sure felt good. I'm actually kind of proud of myself for the first time in awhile.

And THAT was a good week off. Or as Cronk Cherney would have said:

"Beats working for living."

Odsen Enz

Is there anything more annoying than the nasaly whine of a Kardashian? Holy Underwear, they all sound that way...Kim, Courtney, Cloverfield...each one indistinguishable from the other. It's like someone drilling into my soul by way of my ear canal. It's such a shame they can't be a force for good.
Maybe they license their voices for smoke alarms. Their squawks would clear a building safely and save lives. Better yet, their name alone should be forever synonymous with an excruciating, irritating screech. "The neighbor's cat's in heat again. Kept me all night. Goddamn, that's kardashian!"
Aside to Kris Humphries: In the words of Lenny Bruce, "You betta off!"

These sexual harassment allegations against Republican presidential candidate Herman Cain sure seem to be increasing. My, isn't the timing impeccable. I haven't seen this much muck being raked so early on since 1992 and we all know how that turned out, don't we?


There's no segue for this so I'm just going to plow ahead:

The new paperback version of my movie memoir, IN THE DARK: A LIFE AND TIMES IN A MOVIE THEATER (SPECIAL EDITION) is now on sale at my page on Lulu.com:

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/scottcherney

(What makes it special? Sea salt.)
I've also got a new page on Facebook:

Written by Scott Cherney
Come on by and like me. (Damn, I'm needy)
The Facebook page is the same name as my website found at http://www.scottcherney.com/ . Yes, I am an original muh-fuh, that's for sure. The latter has some new content including an unpublished short story entitled THE FUTURE MRS. WILEY, a wry love story told in the manner of Damon Runyon by way of Larry Flynt. Just in time for the holidays.

Enough with the plugs already. Nothing, I mean NOTHING was any better this year than the fourth season of BREAKING BAD, so good than just about everything pales in comparison and what has followed just isn't measuring up. THE WALKING DEAD's follow-up season has been deathly slow, as if wading in on its accolades from last year. It's just not good enough to coast like this and hasn't delivered on the promise of its excellent pilot episode. The characters are too one-note and the pacing slower than snot on a winter's day. BOARDWALK EMPIRE has at least capitalized on its success with more gripping gangster history from the Roaring Twenties. Then there's AMERICAN HORROR STORY on FX, a wonderfully twisted and downright scary series that fills the gap THE WALKING DEAD is vacating. Ryan Murphy has rebooted the ghost story for a new era, recalling his sensational NIP/TUCK and washing the glucose ridden GLEE out of my sub-conscious. And I am officially nominating Jessica Lange for an early Best Supporting Actress Emmy. What a nasty-ass villainess! Talk about a career revival.

FX's series specialize in these superbly dark turns by forgotten or over looked actors: Margo Martindale in JUSTIFIED, Ted Danson in DAMAGES, Ron Perlman and Katey Sagal in SONS OF ANARCHY.

Until next time, Carp Diem! (Seize the Fish?)