Absolutely, hands down, Jeffrey Wright deserves the Emmy for best supporting actor. Will he get it?
Deserves to win: Jeffrey Wright
Critics love him on “Westworld” — he has a magnetic screen presence and the ability to deliver a big twist.
Absolutely, hands down, Jeffrey Wright deserves the Emmy for best supporting actor. Will he get it?
Deserves to win: Jeffrey Wright
Critics love him on “Westworld” — he has a magnetic screen presence and the ability to deliver a big twist.
It’s shot like a reality show, but it’s scripted. Supposedly based on real interviews and reenacted, it’s about a Louisiana mystery beast called the “rougarou” that various law enforcement and other investigators are tryiing to track down becausue it’s been killing animals. Then a body is found, and 2 guys are missing. There’s multiple cameras, a soundtrack, complicated technology (thermal cameras, helicopters), and it moves along briskly.
At least there’s not a lot of the endless repetition of what’s gone before, at the begining of each segment after one of the (many) commercial breaks. I’ve been watching a lot of crappy “reality” shows lately, mostly the ones with “secrets” or “mystery” in the title, because they’re very hootworthy. However, this fake reality show is at least entertaining.
egends of strange, unidentified creatures that stretch back for centuries. In the Northwest, many credible people swear to have sighted Bigfoot. Near Lake Champlain, locals have sworn up and down to seeing a strange, prehistoric-like creature in the water. And down south in the swamplands, it’s no different–some of the most deep-rooted and fearsome monster stories have endured. In the new original series Cryptid: The Swamp Beast, one of America’s oldest mysteries and bone-chilling legends comes to life through dramatizations, eyewitness accounts, real news reports a
Here’s a movie I’ve never heard of, with Alan Tudyk, just starting the opening credits. Recording now, let’s see if it’s any good!
Welcome to Random Movie Night, brought to you by TiVo and sheer dumb luck!
Death at a Funeral is a 2007 British comedy film directed by Frank Oz. The screenplay by Dean Craig focuses on a family attempting to resolve a variety of problems while attending the funeral of the patriarch.ContentsPlotCastProductionReleaseCritical receptionBox officeAwardsHome mediaRemakesReferencesExternal links
9:11 pm – caught it just as the credits began and decided to watch when Alan Tudyk’s name came up. I’m in, because Wash lives. The credits have this little cartoon coffin making its way along a tortuous route, on a map, around the roundabouts, and eventuallly making it’s way up to a largish country house in a nice suburb somewhere near Gatwick. Directed by Frank Oz. Should be good for a laugh!
9:14 Yes, that’s a passing bell ringing, because this is England.
9:15 Oops, wrong body. Sorry, sir! Comedy cartoon coffin quicklyy returns to the mortuary to fetch the right cofffin.
9:16 The one son, Daniel and his wife, are very posh. They live in the nice house with Daniel’s mom, and his dad while he was alive. Apparently they’re trying to come up with enough money to get a flat in London to further Daniel’s career, but currently he’s not doing much other than messing about writing a novel. Meanwhile, his successfful younger brother steals all the writing limelight, living in New York. His flight’s delayed but he’s just landed and on his way.
9:17 Alan Tudyk! Tension in the family. His girlfriend is a relative of the deceased and nervous about introducing him to the family at the funeral, but this way they’re all there. Tudyk isn’t so sure about barging in during a time of mourning. She is probably fun at parties as she slags off a tosser in traffic. Tudyk is very, very nervous about meeting the brothers and wants to make a good impression.
9:20 Return of the Coffin. So is this your father, sir? All’s well.
9:21 Ah, the widow. She and Daniel’s wife get on like a house afire with no firemen handy.
9:22 Hey, it’s Hump from “Trouble in Paradise!” Still in underpants, being picked up by Tudyk. He appears to be an amateur pharmacist, supposedly studying at university. Sure, Hump. Put your pants on.
9:23 Taking random pills from Hump’s table probably won’t work out well, Alan Tudyk.
9:24 Posh younger brother Robert turns up with black leather bags. Makes clanger joke. Mum cries.
9:25 The two guys in a Golf, cousins? Pick up foul mouthed uncle Alfie, who’s in a wheelchair. “Where the fuck have you been? We’re going to be late!”
9:27 The brothers talk next to the cofffin in the posh parlor. What to do about Mum? And money.
9:28 The drugs are taking effect. Cousins bringing Uncle Alfie thwarted for convenient parking space to offload Uncle Afie and his wheelchair, and must back all the way down the drive.
9:30 Tudyk’s character is called Simon and is talking to invisible dogs and garden furniture. He is tripping on the green, and at one point sticks his head in a hedge out in the garden, where he’s not as likely to disturb the rest of the family gathering in the parlor. He remarks “It’s all so…. GREEN.”
9:31 Who the hell is that guy? It’s Theron from Game of Thrones, you numskull. Peter Dinklage!
9:32 It looks like everybody’s arrived at the… wake? It’s not a shiva, there’s a priest. Private funeral, I guess.
I think this sets up the characters. The posh brothers need money, the cousins are less posh and are stuck trundling Uncle Alfie, Peter Dinklage’s relationship with the deceased will become clearer.. And the “Valium” Alan Tudyk took was something a biiiit stronger, like LSD, mescaline and Ketamine. Alan Tudyk is going to make a great impression on the family. And now that Uncle Alfie’s finally arrived, they can begin the service in the parlor. The service begins.
Alan Tudyk’s facce on drugs is priceless. Family ructions are priceless. And oh, this Bible reading about David and Jonathan is going to be significant as it was the patriarch’s favorite passage (sidelong look at Peter Dinklage, who looks pretty hot).
Aaaand Tudyk hits peak freakout. Blame it on the “Valium.” He thinks the coffin is moving and making scratching noises, and throws it over, with dead Daddy rolling out to his widow’s feet. Chaos!
While they stash Tudyk in an upstairs bathroom and tidy Daddy back into the casket (it’s actually the kind with the double-hinged lid), Dinklage asks to talk with Daniel, somewhere quiet. They go into the study, a beautifully decorated little room with its own en-suite bathroom.
So now we’re going to get the big reveal of the relationship between the dad and Peter Dinklage. And he’s got pictures… he pulls them out to show Daniel. As he explains where and when they were taken, surrounded as they are by tasteful male nudes in sculpture and painting and photography, plus some “gay icon” movie memorabilia, Daniel has a pifanee. His dad was gay?!?!? Suddenly, his dad’s taste in objets d’art and Bible readings becomes horrribly clear.
It’s blackmail, and there’s extremely graphic proof that it wasn’t Platonic. And Daniel now has to have a whip round to find some cash to pay Dinklage off, to the tune of about 15,000GBP, or Dinklage will show the pictures to everybody at the house. Meanwhile, the buffet table looks really good.
Oops, the unposh cousin and the widow are at the garden house, where the not-Valium pill bottle got dropped earlier during Tudyk’s epic freak-out.
Dinklage: he’s a master of sticking the brothers where they live.
Tudyk: has escaped the bonds of clothes and the bathroom he locked himself into, and has climbed out the second-floor window mother-naked to greet the Sun. What a glorious movie! Why was he not cast in the American remake! I need another beer to celebrate this, his skin is absolutely flawless.
Dinklage: Is too much. I sum up: he’s just been stuffed full of not-Valium affter being wrestled to the floor of the study by Robert, with Daniel’s help, and the helpful hypochondriac cousin just offered the Valium bottle. Hump comes in and now this set piece is ready to roll once the drugs take effect. I don’t think Dinklage will make it to the end credits. AWK-ward!
Previously, Uncle Alfie had to take a shit and can’t go upstairs and besides which the door is still locked, so the schlumpfy cousin brings him through the study. Dinklage has been stashed behind the couch. There is actual pooping on screen – the hypochondriac cousin comes up with a handful and has his own epic freakout, before catching sight of the spatters on his face in the mirror and having another. Meanwhile, the brothers are in a little room off the kitchen, arguing. Hump has disappeared. Dinklage pops up from behind the couch, clearly hallucinating but not too bothered about his hands and feet being bound. He begins hopping around the room, climbing on furniture. Will he surrvive? it’s called “Death AT a Funeral,” after all. Still, he looks like he’s enjoying the not-Valium trip.
Crash! he’s lying on the floor, having cracked his head on the coffee table.
And no, it appears he didn’t survive, but at least it was a silly accident, and he died happily hallucinating, jumping on the couch while tied up with… ties. The hypochondriac cousin goes to fetch the brothers and Hump, with a horrible rictus on his face and a shitstain on his shirt. The family conspirators gather in the study, panicking and trying to figure out what to do. They’ve got a dead little man in the one room and a dead old man in the other, who’s got quite a big, roomy casket actaully.
But at this point, I want to know what Alan Tudyk is doing on the roof.
Oh good, everybody’s on the lawn, as the service is still on hold since the unfortunate epic freak-out when he thought the coffin was moving and dumped Daddy out on the floor. The opportunity for the ingenious solution presents itself, but first the brothers have to argue about money and writing novels.
God, they must have used vats of sunscreen on Tudyk! he must have been up on the roof for hours doiing the crazy. His girlfriend, who is never clearly identiified I think, finally climbs up on the roof, tells him she’s pregnant, and wants to get marrried. So he calms down and agrees to put some pants on and join the famiy in the parlor for the much-delayed funeral service. I could be wrong, she may be a niece, as her father seems to be very much alive, and forbidding her to see Alan Tudyk any more. By this time, we’ve seen a HELL of a lot of Tudyk ourselves. He looks pretty good but we never get any frontal nudity.
And I really hope Dinklage is dead, because otherwise he’s going to be buried alive, in a notoriously bad position on top of his former lover. But in the meantime, this needs to be a closed-coffin service if they ever manage to re-start. And Uncle Alfie’s been on the pot in the bathroom off the study the whole time, where he’d seen the brothers, druggie Hump, and the hypochondriac cousin wrestling with the dead body of Dinklage through the open door. What a lovely time had by all, except of course poor old Peter Dinklage.
The vicar asks “do you want to have the casket open? We’ll really have to whiz through this” because he has a wedding or something in a few minutes. So Daniel begins the eulogy. And the cofffin begins knocking and rocking and moaning.
Jack-in-the-box! Pop goes the Dinklage! HELLLLLLLOOOOO! His eyes are on FIRE.
He manages to get out of the coffin and tries to escape, but the photos falll out of his jacket pocket at the widow’s feet, and she goes half-ballistic. Chaos ensues.
But then, Daniel shouts the opening line of his boring eulogy again.. a frustrated novelist, forever in the shadow of his younger, cooler brother, who’s already a successful writer, he was previously irritated that everybody expected his brother to give the eulogy.
And somehow, it’s heartfelt, and moving, and loving, and acknowledges that their dad, uncle, and brother had some secrets and found some happiness late in life, but he was still a good man.
It’s enough to shut everyone the hell up, even Dinklage, who looks somewhat mollified though he’s still tied up with curtain tie-backs. The widow, who was on the point of throttling him, smiles sadly and pulls herself back together. She’s very elegant, but it’s been a long and difficult day.
Finally, after everyone is gone, the brothers sum up in the empty parlor and work some things out. Daniel’s wife comes in to tell them everyone’s gone at last, except poor old Uncle Alfie, who was still going on about the dead body in the study. She thougt it best to put him to bed rather than put him through the stress of being driven back to his care facility.
“Oh, and I gave him some of that Valium that was in the study, to keep him calm.”
Horrified looks from the brothers, the music comes up, Alfie is somehow on the roof naked, and remarks “it’s all so.. fucking GREEN.”
Credits: the little animated coffin comes to the end of its journey, goes into the ground, and some fucking green grows on top.
So that was a fun movie – not a classic, not a cult favorite, but funny even though you could see what’s coming, and nearly all of Alan Tudyk besides.
— TikTokCrock (@TikTokCrock) December 5, 2014
So last night, the folks on Jezebel were all set to hate-tweet NBC’s second annual live musical theater production. This time around, it was #PeterPanLive, starring Allison Williams, aka Brian Williams’ daughter and some kind of star on HBO or something we don’t watch. Once again, I set up to watch live, or as close to live as possible given that we had to put dinner together, but I caught up via TiVo. And I tweeted, and tweeted, and hung out at Jezebel in the “live blog,” trying to get out of the “greys” (the pending comments).
Today, Jezebel followed up with the five most mockable moments, including this oddity, which was stuck in the middle of a commercial break:
First of all, I’ve only highlighted five moments because Peter Pan Live!, first and foremost, was terribly boring. Not only is it a dull play to begin with, but this one was starring Allison fucking Williams. And, worse yet, not a single fly wire broke during the show. Point being, I really had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find five moments that seemed mildly worth the precious time that you and I typically dedicate to Clickhole quizzes. But find them, I did.
So I mostly don’t agree that #PeterPanLive was a mockable hot mess for what it was, a musical on live television. Unlike last year’s mess with Whatsername Countrysinger, it wasn’t awful with a few good moments. It was actually pretty good with some awkward bits, uninspired casting. and a less-racist version of the song “Ugga-Wugga-Wug.”
Christopher Walken was weirdly and badly made up, not like his promotional photos had looked, and was moving and speaking slowly (and obviously reading off cue cards and only occasionally camping things up). Also, he had a throne built like a La-Z-Boy recliner that seemed to be ALL THE FAVORITE THINGS for him; he was constantly working the big gold lever to lift the leg rest. Given how little energy he had for dancing, singing, or swordfighting, it may have been written into his contract that he needed a lot of throne time with his legs up. Something was horribly wrong with his eyebrows, so that he looked like Ming the Merciless on Talk Like A Pirate Day.
Still, Allison Williams sang really well, looked disturbingly fey in the part (she has a strong jaw), had sort of British diction, and danced and flew around like a boss.
Wendy looked very mature, as did all the “Lost Boys” but hey, that’s theatre. People on Twitter seemed to be missing Rufio from “Hook” a lot and there was a lot of hooting at the psychedelic croc, but I liked it (and of course it quickly had its own Twitter handle).
They cut some of my favorite stuff, but maybe that’s stuff that was more from the Disney cartoon, like when Peter shouts PIXIE DUST! and makes the pirate ship fly off into the moonlight. And Tinkerbell’s big moment was kind of rushed, and weirdly urgent, since most of the children that needed to clap to keep her alive were asleep by then.
The length of the show was a problem, especially for a show meant to be viewed by children, as it went too late and most little kids couldn’t stay up. There were a few odd things, like the flight wires being very noticeable (especally when the Darling boys first take off).
And yet, I liked it. I liked the set design, I liked the costumes (especially on the pirates), I liked the stagecraft, I liked (for the most part) the camera work. The weird thing is, that the most memorable parts were the weird things that got in the way of the wonder; Peter Pan is a very odd story and it does have some problems for a modern audience, yet people seem to love it anyway. There was shiny sparkly stuff all over, like theatrical Awesome Sauce. It was like the art director decided that MOAR GLITTER on top of bright, intense blues, greens and purples was a given.
“Pixie Dust: They Put That Shit On Everything.”
Yeah, it was shiny. And ludicrously colorful (yet very beautiful, in some shots). And I appreciated the tricks with forced perspective and false scale that they used for some scenes (such as looking over the London rooftops towards the nursery window). The music was vigorous, the dancing was energetic (if a little over-the-top, especially between Lost Boys and Indian braves). There was a lot that was good, and quite a bit that was unsettlingly creepy (if I’m asked to go on an adventure that consists of cooking, cleaning, and making pockets for boys, no thank you).
Of course, lots of people hated it, hooted at it, complained that it was long and weird. But it was never boring, just odd in the way that dreams are sometimes weirdly beautiful.
And I do hope NBC does something like this again next year – but they should either pick something that’s definitely geared and scheduled for family viewing, or do something wild that starts later but isn’t as long. As long as it’s not remotely a holiday theme, since we get enought of that “event entertainment” stuff this time of year, I’d be happy to watch (and tweet) again next year.
My husband David and I have been watching the “new” Hawaii Five-O since it began 4 seasons ago, from episode 1. It had seemed that for several seasons now they’d been mostly doing storylines based on international terrorism and the spy-intrigue storyline in McGarrett’s mother’s past. Which frankly, bored me to sobs.
I preferred the storylines where it was a Hawaiian setting, with the kind of local color and flavor that is unique to Hawaii. It seemed like they were doing the islands a disservice by only finding the big drama in the “international” arena, saving the local stories for mostly ordinary cops-and-robbers or cops-and-drug dealers stuff.
Not tonight – in “Ho’onani Mkuakane (Honor Thy Father),” they finally pulled off a big, “only in Hawaii” story, for an episode that simultaneously commemorated Pearl Harbor, AND sought to handle the tragic and shameful saga of the internment of Japanese-American citizens. Amazingly, they brought about a moving reconciliation at the end.
Now if they wanted to go for an Emmy, they might have gotten George Takei, who would bring a little…. first hand knowledge on the subject of the internments, having spent part of his childhood in such a camp. But the actor they cast as an aging Korean War vet avenging his father’s mjurder handled it ably.
The episode had flashbacks, and the usual amazing coincidences that can only happen in cop dramas where there’s a strong family element – in this version of Hawaii Five-O, McGarrett’s family has been in Hawaii for generations, but I don’t remember if the original had such a back story for Jack Lord’s Steve McGarrett.
This one, though, managed to handle all the pieces deftly: the annual Pearl Harbor Day memorial marred by a strange incident, followed by the strangest suspect interrogation ever. It was maybe a little too reverent and respectful, but there was solid police work (helped by some pretty eye-rolling coincidence, too, but plausible coincidence).
They listened to an old man’s story of long-ago wartime Hawaii, and solved the mystery with forensic lasers, a barrel full of rats, old men’s memories and old men’s files, and a microscope.
Most weeks, I mostly watch Hawaii Five-O with half an eye, occasionally noting some location that looks familiar or mocking their super-saturated cinematography. I grumble when there’s yet another episode with some connection to Japanese yakuza, inexplicably set in the jungles of “China” or “North Korea.”
This week, it was probably the best episode I can recall in a long time, mostly because it was very character-based, and also steeped in the memories of Pearl Harbor and the shameful backlash against Americans who happened to be of Japanese ancestry. Everybody had some good face time, good dialogue, good premise to work from.
I expect next week or so we’ll be right back in the stupid “is he or isn’t he Wo Fat’s secret spy lovechild half-brother” storyline, but this week, they had might right to the end. I even got a little teary, because for some reason, Hawaii is special to me, having visited so many times.
I wish this show could rise to this level more often. It’s at is best when it plays to its strength: the setting, the people, the culture of the islands.
According to online clothes retailer Marisota, fifteen percent have cried over being too fat, and ten from being too skinny. A large percentage of women often dwell on their own sizes while shopping and get upset when their “funny shape” direct quote prevents them from looking like Christina Hendricks in a pencil skirt.
I have a hate/hate/HATE relationship with shopping, clothes, and “fashion.” I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’ve gone shopping with girlfriends; first of all, I don’t really have any local, close women friends since moving to Illinois outside of family. But even my close friends, who ironically are all in distant places, never went shopping with me, because I avoid shopping like the plague.
One of my guilty pleasures used to be watching “What Not To Wear,” because the 360-degree mirrored room absolutely horrified me. I used to wonder what it would be like to be subjected to that kind of “fashion emergency intervention,” and I imagine I’d probably have a shrieking, swearing meltdown on camera, refuse to consent to appear on the show, and refuse to speak to anyone involved in setting it up for the rest of my life. Yet secretly, I always enjoyed the episodes where someone with “potential” was freed from their self-limiting perceptions and transformed in a really organic and authentic way. I used to grumble, however, at how the only people with “potential” were always women with good bone structure, thick but manageable hair, and an hourglass shape.
I have none of these things – a bland, round and shapeless face, thin floppy hair, and a schlumpfy bottom-heavy pear shape that NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING flatters or improves, and I have thick legs and cankles, too. I just recently discovered that What Not To Wear returns January 3. I might secretly watch again… but if I do, I’d like to see more women with LITTLE to NO apparent potential – because that’s a more an interesting transformation.
Another thing – so often they pick women who’d recently lost weight. I’d like them to do more on women who’ve gained weight, or who’ve never been thin. I’d like them to do more on women who’ve never thought of themselves as pretty or attractive, or who’ve been told all their lives they’re ugly, or . From some of the more recent transformations on their website, maybe they’ve done that more since I last watched.
I’d like them to really take on a challenge – a plain, big-boned woman with irregular features, self-image issues, weird coloring, and absolutely no need for dressy clothes at all.
Not me, though. Some OTHER schlumph. I’d be much too angry and horrified to go on with it. I read once that there was at least one person who absolutely refused to participate; I’d definitely be inclined to refuse (with a side of screaming epithets) if it ever happened to me.
I’m watching an H2 program called Civilization Lost, covering little-known sites that hint at entire civilizations that have been lost to history, the segment on the Turkish site Gobekli Tepe was striking to me. The History 2 channel seems to be slightly more “woo-woo ancient aliens!1!” than the regular History channel. Also covered: Varna, Tel Hamoukar, the Minoan culture, and others.
Six miles from Urfa, an ancient city in southeastern Turkey, Klaus Schmidt has made one of the most startling archaeological discoveries of our time: massive carved stones about 11,000 years old, crafted and arranged by prehistoric people who had not yet developed metal tools or even pottery. The megaliths predate Stonehenge by some 6,000 years. The place is called Gobekli Tepe, and Schmidt, a German archaeologist who has been working here more than a decade, is convinced its the site of the worlds oldest temple.
After seeing a lot of tweets yesterday about Up with Chris Hayes and the Melissa Perry-Harris Show, I finally watched both shows (or most of Up and all of MPH) via TiVo. I’ve never watched political wonk shows before (comedy shows like Jon Stewart and Bill Maher shouldn’t count, but they do), and it was fun!
They’re shown Saturday and Sunday mornings and seem to have an enthusiastic fan base that hang out on Twitter under hashtags #uppers and #nerdland respectively. A lot of dumb sex-link spambots and anti-factists hang out too, so I quickly learned who was reality-based and who had drunk the anti-truth serum.
One thing about this election cycle; the thugs are desperate not to lose to the black man again so my tag line (and the Karl Rove-attributed quote that inspired it) keeps showing up in my newsfeeds. But that’s a whole other blogpost.
President Obama’s former protege, Tammy Duckworth, is running against Tea Party extremist Rep. Joe Walsh in the district, and she will speak at the convention again. Good, I hope to volunteer at a phone bank for her. Walsh is useless in office, unreasonable, and famously irrational when confronted by constituents armed with inconvenient facts (see video below).
He’s an embarassmen and a waste of Congressional space. Tammy is rational, calm under fire (hero! hero! Hero! Nyah Nyah Nyah!) and solid on policy and getting the work done. Hope she does well in her speech, which will probably only be seen on C-SPAN by the wonk types. As long as she doesn’t let any cranky old white men offer her an empty chair, she’ll be fine. She may have prosthetic legs (because, HERO) but she stands on her own two feet. And Joe? Keep it classy. You can see Joe’s famous tirade yelling at unhappy constituents at that link, highly recommended.
Oh what the heck, here it is:
Another good development: It’s likely that 2 of the 3 most corrupt Democrats in the Illinois delegation aren’t going. On Up with Chris Hayes, they had several young-ish candidates explaining their positions, and they all struck me as competent, real, and mammalian frontal cortex thinkers.
I know, right?
Most of today’s GOP and Tea Party extremists seem to be reptilian hind-brain thinkers; that’s why the phrase “red-meat Republicans” makes me think of the Tyrannasaurus Rex strips in Calvin and Hobbes. Anyway, all these Bright Young Things were asked to give their Last Word (a regular feature) on what needed to change in Washington.
Arizona State Senator Kyrsten Sinema (@kyrstensinema), Democratic congressional candidate in Arizona’s 9th district, answered succinctly “elect different people.” Not just “get rid of the other team/tribe/faction,” but replace the lot. Presumably you’d clear out the deadwood on both sides and get a do-over on competence.
Illinois’ famously corrupt political “system” (and despite the Right’s best efforts, Obama was not a team player in that game) isn’t quite as influential as it was, since Blago got his orange jumpsuit and Daley has left office. There’s more that need to go, but maybe the Better Government Association will keep working on weeding out corruption, at least at the entry level.
In 2008, the inaugural Obama presidential campaign was so fearful of being associated with the tainted Blagojevich that it denied him a speaking role. This year’s Obama-orchestrated convention will feature speeches by Mayor Rahm Emanuel as well as congressional candidate Tammy Duckworth. Unlike the Republican convention, where no Illinoisans addressed delegates, Duckworth is making her second consecutive appearance before the Democratic convention audience. A second-time candidate for Congress, Duckworth is challenging tea party-icon freshman Republican Rep. Joe Walsh in a northwest suburban district drawn for her by Democrats. Walsh chose not to attend the GOP convention. Duckworth, a former assistant secretary of Veterans Affairs in the Obama administration, is among several prominent women given a speaking role. Obama and Democrats are attempting to take advantage of the controversy over Missouri Republican Senate nominee Rep. Todd Akin’s remark that victims of “legitimate rape” have an internal body mechanism to prevent pregnancy. Democrats have sought to use the comments to reheat their allegations that Republicans are waging a “war on women.”
Highlander fans mourn, too; Mr Anderson was associated with the movie and television franchises (at least at first).
My HL friends will be sad to see this. Sorry, everyone – Bob was not immortal after all.
LONDON — Olympic fencer and movie sword master Bob Anderson appeared in some of film’s most famous dueling scenes – though few viewers knew it.
Anderson, who has died at age 89, donned Darth Vader’s black helmet and fought light saber battles in two of the three original “Star Wars” films, “The Empire Strikes Back” and “Return of the Jedi.”
We’re still humming the theme song… but there are some new surprises and twists, so it was NOT predictable other than a big damn happy ending. Which made me tear up, as I was a big Muppet Show fan back in the day.
When it was announced on Tuesday that US TV broadcaster NBC has commissioned a script for a new series of the Muppets, the reaction among critics, commentators and tweeters was, frankly, remarkable. It is rare that a four-decades old franchise can announce a return to TV and prompt such unabashed enthusiasm as well as a total lack of cynicism about quality control. Everyone loves the Muppets – that goes without saying. More surprising is how many people want them back, creating, satirising, karate chopping.