Netflixed: Just like it was on Talok
Hamlet (Kenneth Branagh, 1996): Don’t know whether it’s better or worse than the Olivier or Almereyda adaptations. It’s less efficient, but it wasn’t my millions Branagh was burning through. Half the play is shouted, which reflects the tone of the filmmaking. This is occasionally hilarious, as when Branagh and the score turn the “my thoughts be bloody” soliloquy into the sunscreen song. But it shines on enough facets of the characters to keep me engaged for four hours.
The Search for John Gissing (Mike Binder, 2001): Better than most second-hand Allen or third-hand Fellini because there’s no tortured-artist schtick. Binder finds all kinds of artless ways to torture himself, like a nun who gets to be slatternly for only a few minutes, but whom the characters bring up repeatedly, expecting a fresh laugh every time and succeeding occasionally.
Green Lantern (Martin Campbell, 2011): When it opens with an echoing Geoffrey Rush intoning “Blllions of years ago…”, you hope it’ll be an all-time bad movie. Sadly it turns out competent, for which we can mostly blame Ryan Reynolds. In mass culture, Aquaman is widely considered the joke JLA member for his power set, but DC readers know the laugh is really on Hal Jordan. His powers are virtually unbounded, yet he’s KOed by everything from a falling branch to a model plane. Reynolds knows that being a putz is the only thing that makes Hal vulnerable. It might be the only thing stopping him from destroying the multiverse.
TV supplement: Parks and Recreation, a bunch of episodes from seasons 2 and 3: When Adam Scott and Rob Lowe show up, does that make for the best U.S. sitcom cast ever? Okay, The Honeymooners, though they had an easier job, what with only three-and-a-half performers. Between then and 30 Rock, the American sitcom defined characters primarily through writing rather than acting — the exception being special guest stars. I loved special guest stars and always wished they’d stick around. That’s what Parks & Rec feels like.
