Ted Landau on Apple, politics, evolution, movies & whatever
Entertainment
Sadly, some mysteries to remain “Lost”
Feb 1st
The premiere of the final season of Lost finally arrives tomorrow. As a dedicated Lost fan, who has watched (often more than once) and analyzed every episode since Season 1, I can hardly wait. I am confident I will not be disappointed.
Still, thanks to Entertainment Weekly’s cover story on Lost this past week, I am compelled to revisit a long-standing complaint. In the article, the producers of Lost (Cuse and Lindelof) are asked “Just how many of our questions are going to get answered anyway?” The producers response is essentially one they have given before: “There are so many many questions that people probably have that we just can’t address.” They continue with their Star War’s “midichlorian” analogy, citing that some questions are impossible to answer anyway, without raising more questions, ultimately leaning to “overexplained lameness.”
Let me be clear. This is all just a copout.
Their excuse might pass muster for some minor mysteries. Given the wealth of questions that have come up over the five seasons of Lost (here is a fairly complete list of the questions), I know there are too many to expect all of them to be answered. But there are major ones that, in my view, demand an answer — at least if the series is to have a satisfying conclusion. One key question, for example, surrounds the meaning of the “numbers.”
I first commented on this in a Lostpedia blog entry last year, after the producers initially warned us of their intent. Sadly, it is just as applicable now as it was then. Here is what I wrote:
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“I just finished reading Damon Lindef’s statement regarding The Numbers (where they imply that there may never be a full, or even any, explanation as to the significance of the 4 8 15 16 23 42 numbers). I was more than disappointed.
I believe his statement that ‘We call it the midi-chlorian debate, because at a certain point, explaining something mystical demystifies it,’ is mainly a cop-out. In Star Wars, there was never any mystery surrounding the origins of the Force. It was accepted as part of the Star Wars universe, in the same way that the possibility of time travel is accepted in the Lost universe, without need of a detailed explanation. The Force was never raised as a mystery to be solved in Star Wars.
The Numbers are quite different. They were the focus of major plot mysteries in season 1 and into season 2. Why were those particular numbers selected to be entered every 108 minutes? Would it have mattered if different numbers were entered? Could it have worked with 107 minutes? Why was Hurley so involved with the Numbers and not any one else?
There are secondary related questions as well: Why maintain such an important function (typing in the numbers) via a system that is so prone to possible human failure? Why weren’t the Others checking in at the Swan? Did they really just assume that Desmond would never fail to reset the switch? Why not just press the fail safe button in the first place and avoid all the hassle of entering the numbers (I believe I know the answer that but I’d still like to see it answered officially)? Why was the system needed at all? Presumably there was no such system before the Dharma people arrived; how and when did the need for it arrive? And so on and so on.
Even if we assume that the meaning of the Numbers has to do with the Valenzetti Equation (as suggested in Lost material that appeared online but never clearly in the canon of the show itself), it still doesn’t answer any of these other questions.
For me, to dismiss the answers to such questions as of ‘no interest whatsoever’ is simply saying: ‘We screwed up. We didn’t have a good explanation when we went down this road. And now, rather than coming up with one, we’re going simply say it doesn’t matter.”
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To some extent, what Cuse and Lindelof are suggesting is like a murder mystery where the victim is killed in some apparently impossible way. In the end, we learn who the murderer is, but we are never told how the murderer pulled it off. Instead, we are told that this ultimately doesn’t really matter. Bull! This is unfair to the reader. Just as Lost similarly appears intent on being unfair to the viewer.
The final season of Lost will be spectacular anyway. It’s just that I had hoped that the writers and producers really knew what they were doing when they introduced these mysteries over the years. And we would at last get the answers this season.
I know we will get answers to at least some of the major mysteries. I can only hope this will be sufficient.
Enough complaints. It’s time to get ready to sit back and enjoy the ride. Here we go…
V: In danger of contracting X-Files Disease
Dec 1st
So I’ve watched the season thus far of V. It’s been good enough to keep my interest — and keep me returning for the next episode. But I fear this will not last too much longer.
Why? Because the concept behind V is much better suited to a mini-series (as was the original show upon which the series is based; although it too was expanded into a one-season series the next year) than a multi-season series with an unknown end point.
Essentially, the plot boils down to answering two main questions: “What are the aliens really up to?” and “When will the majority of humans figure out what’s going on and fight back?” It’s hard to imagine how you can drag out these answers for more than one or (at most) two seasons. I see the writers trying here; in the last episode (until next March), the heroes argued why it wouldn’t be wise to simply expose the aliens just yet. I wasn’t convinced.
There are also some plot points that stretch my credulity (such as inter-species romantic love and a human pregnant from an alien). My knowledge of biology and evolution suggests that this has a zero probability. But that’s another story.
If the people behind V keep trying to stretch things out (as they apparently intend to do), they risk the dreaded “X-Files” disease. This is when the answers to the central conspiracy/mystery of a series are artificially delayed, so as to keep the series going for as long as it remains popular. After awhile, viewers get annoyed at how contrived everything becomes, how the plot never seems to advance (despite teasers suggesting that something will actually happen). Viewers ultimately abandon the series because they just don’t care anymore. Or at least don’t care to wait anymore.
That’s what happened to The X-Files in its later seasons. And this was exactly what was in danger of happening to Lost, until the third season, when the producers got ABC to agree to set the sixth season as the final one for the series. With a known end point, the producers/writers could now map out the plot without having to worry about “What if we need to make the series last a seventh season?; We can’t afford to reveal too much.” After this decision was made, Lost quickly evolved to become one of the greatest most compelling series in television history. I am counting the minutes until the final season begins on February 2, 2010.
Flash Forward, another new series this year, has so far done a much better job of handling this balancing act. I feel mostly satisfied that events are progressing, even though the fate of the series (in terms of how many seasons it may last) is still unknown. And, from what I have read, major questions will indeed be answered before Season 1 is over.
V, in contrast, has been unable to figure this out. Given the limits of the plot, it may be an impossible task. Still, unless it figures something out, I predict the series will burn out before the first season is over. I give it low odds of surviving to a second season and near-zero odds of a third.
The most logic-defying sequence in movie history
May 22nd
I’m a die-hard James Bond movie fan. And Goldfinger ranks up there as perhaps my all-time favorites James Bond film.
At least it was until I watched it again recently. I’m now thinking of downgrading it a bit.
Yes, it still has all the iconic scenes that remain so indelibly imprinted in my mind. But watching it again, I was struck by how much of the movie makes absolutely no sense from any logical perspective. And I found it impossible to ignore this, even accepting the idea that the movie is basically an escapist fantasy.
I won’t bore you with a complete list of all the ridiculousness in the movie. Instead, I want to focus on just one sequence; a sequence that so defies logic that I believe it could well be the #1 all-time most logic-defying sequence in movie history. I’m talking about the scene that begins with the assembled hoodlums inside Goldfinger’s Kentucky ranch.
For starters, in the meeting room, Goldfinger unveils an elaborate hidden control panel that he uses to show the assembled group his big plan. However, the show consists only of a simple map and a 3-D mock-up of Fort Knox, also concealed until he presses the buttons to reveal them. Even granting that these items may have had some use beyond displaying them to his criminal associates, it’s hard to imagine why such an expensive and elaborate setup was needed to conceal and reveal these two items. Couldn’t he just keep them in a locked room? Okay, Goldfinger is super-rich and can afford it. But still.
Anyway, we’re just getting warmed up. Next, Goldfinger kills off the entire group by mechanically sealing off the room and spraying nerve gas into it. Are we to believe that he kills people off this way with such frequency that he decided to install a permanent setup just for doing so? Surely, there are many simpler less elaborate ways he could have taken care of this matter. Again, I can pretty much forgive this. James Bond movies, after all, are all about elaborate schemes.
But now, we enter into the realm of the unforgivable. If he always intended to kill everybody (as seemed to be the case), why even bother giving them the dog and pony show about how he was going to raid Fort Knox? Why not just kill them as soon as they were all in the room. Again, I understand that the movie needs to reveal the Fort Knox plot to the audience. But couldn’t the movie makers find a way to do it that doesn’t require that you be halfway in a coma in order for you not to notice how preposterous it all is?
Even if you are willing to suspend disbelief and accept all of the preceding, there remains the coup de grace of the entire sequence:
One of the criminals, appropriately named Solo, decides to opt out of the Fort Knox deal. He wants to take his promised money and leave. Goldfinger agrees and sends him on his way. Given that even he is going to be killed anyway (shot by Oddjob, as we soon find out), why let him leave? Why not just have him die in the room with the rest of the hoodlums? Goldfinger could have easily come up with an excuse to leave the room before letting Solo exit.
Okay, so Goldfinger passed on this opportunity. A lapse in judgement perhaps. But why not then shoot Solo before he ever leaves the property? Ah, that would still be too easy. Instead, Goldfinger puts Solo into a limo, ostensibly with instructions for Oddjob to drive him to the airport. And yes, there’s the payment of a million dollars in gold bullion in the trunk!
Solo never makes it to the airport — to no one’s surprise. Oddjob shoots him in the car along the way. Oddjob then dumps the body in some remote location, drives back to the ranch, and takes the gold out of the trunk, right? In your dreams. Why do anything that makes even the slightest sense when there is a much more complicated and totally idiotic way to accomplish the same goal?
What actually happens is that Oddjob drives to an auto junkyard that has machinery to crush and compress cars into nice compact cubes. And then, after compressing the limo (with the dead Solo still inside, of course), he places the resulting cube on the flatbed of a truck, somehow conveniently waiting for him, which he then drives back to the ranch. Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?
If you have not yet turned your brain off by this point, you may be wondering: Why take the compressed car back at all? Ah, you forgot about the gold. The million dollars in gold is still contained within the now heap of metal and human body parts — and needs to be extracted. Holy smokes, why didn’t Oddjob just remove the gold from the car before he compacted it? That would have saved Goldfinger from the ugly extraction task. In fact, it would have eliminated the need to take the compacted car back to the ranch at all. Ah, but then we wouldn’t have been able to have the witticism, spoken by Bond and Goldfinger in different scenes, of Solo’s “pressing engagement.” Oh yes, what does a total absence of any sense matter, when there’s a witty remark at stake?
Okay. I know James Bond movies aren’t meant to be taken seriously. And I will more than willing to accept some lack of logic in the name of fun. You’d be hard pressed to find an action movie that doesn’t have at least a few such minor lapses. But there comes a point when it all gets too much. For me, the Goldfinger movie surpasses that point several times over. I guess I was more forgiving when I watched it when I was younger. But I am not now.
Perhaps I am more harsh now because I see a bigger problem lurking. I believe the success of these early James Bond movies laid the groundwork for most of the hundreds of action movies that followed. The Bond franchise showed movie makers that you don’t need an intelligent script, or even one that makes any sense, for a movie to be successful. Throw in enough fight scenes, chase scenes, special effects, and explosions — and the audience will pay for a ticket and ignore the fact that there is no coherent plot to the movie.
That’s why I am almost always disappointed now in each new action movie that comes out. I hope the day may yet come when, in describing a movie, the words intelligent and action need not be mutually exclusive. I see some glimmer of hope here with movies such as 2005’s Batman Begins. But they are still more the exception than the rule. The vast majority of this summer’s movie blockbusters, sadly, appears to be sticking to the old formula.
Hollywood: Give up on DRM
Aug 15th
Check out this ars technica article. It describes the lengths that Hollywood is more than willing to go to prevent piracy of its movies from Blue-Ray and HD-DVD discs. For example, to prevent such content from being copied when played on a computer, decrypted video cannot “be present on any User-Accessible Bus in analog or unencrypted, compressed form,” because users might otherwise find a way to record such content. And that’s just one of several DRM (Digital Rights Management) “robustness rules” with which Hollywood wants to burden companies such as Microsoft and Apple.
I fully expect that the end result of this (as has been the case with previous Draconian DRM measures) will be that legitimate users get punished more than any potential pirates. We users will be punished via the increased cost of the hardware and software needed to enforce these rules as well as the increased inconvenience of the restrictions that prevent us from accessing the content in ways that are or should be perfectly legal.
Hollywood folks aren’t even willing to entertain (pardon the pun) the idea that maybe, just maybe, after I have purchased the VHS version of a movie, purchased the DVD of the same movie, and then purchased it again to get the special “Criterion” edition, I should be entitled to some discount when I purchase the Blue-Ray version. But that’s another story.
It has long been my contention that, if I purchase a DVD, I should be able to do whatever I want with it, as long as it does not include providing the content to others. So, if I want to copy the movie to my iPod, make a back-up disc, or whatever else, I ought to be able to do so — without any hassles or impediments.
Clearly, the entertainment industry disagrees. It’s not so much that they disagree in principle with my position. It’s just that to allow what I want would make it too easy for pirates to make illegal copies. This cannot be allowed in their view. To prevent this abuse, something must be sacrificed. So what gets destroyed are the rights of the legitimate users.
I have thought about this a good deal recently. I have tried to put myself in the shoes of the Hollywood executives. I am an author of several books. How would I like it if my books could simply be copied as easily as copying a Word file…and that such copies could be freely shared, given to people who never paid for the book? I would not like it. I would prefer that this not be the case. I would welcome copyright laws that say this is prohibited. Beyond that, there is not much else I would do.
The truth is that this situation already exists for my books. You can get my most recent book as a PDF file. Once purchased, you can copy it and give it to others. The same situation is also true, of course, for CDs. It is also the situation for anyone who has ever photocopied an article from a magazine to give to someone else, rather than buy another copy of the magazine.
I am sure that, if it were not so easy to do these things, more copies of books, CDs, and magazines would be sold. But so what? Times have changed. This is the technology that we live with. Despite these capabilities, publishers are still making money publishing books, artists are still making money recording and performing music, and magazine subscriptions are still a thriving business. Some of this “illegal” copying probably spurs sales. For example, after you read that article from the magazine, you may like it so much that you wind up getting your own subscription.
Regardless, my bottom line point is that we can’t go back in time to when these technologies did not exist. And we shouldn’t have laws and regulations that act as if we can. We just have to learn to tolerate a certain amount of piracy inherent in this system. We have to hope that there are enough people that are not inclined to break the law that we can still make a buck. We can also try to think of new ways to package these products so as to encourage legitimate purchases rather than illegal copies. Beyond that, leave the user alone and don’t burden us down with DRM rules that ultimately won’t work anyway.