"Event Television" is the Death Knell of Network TV

Certain shows have been good for television as a medium in the last few years. Complex storytelling, compelling antiheroes, and gray morality have turned water cooler talk away from Desperate Housewives to "I can't believe Walt fucking [SPOILERED] [CHARACTER]." (Alright, that's essentially the same conversation when you remove the verbs, but suffice it to say that a high-maintenance cosmetic surgery addict is fairly distinct from a meth-cooking recovering cancer patient with a Napoleon complex.)

"Event Television" is being touted a lot right now. It's not a new idea, but it's the first time an old format has spurred so many producers to attempt to make money by creating grand, intricate shows that–frankly–cost a hell of a lot of money to produce.

Let us be clear: it is wonderful that networks are shilling out crazy amounts of cash to put together smart scripts, talented actors, and vision-filled producers and directors, and effectively giving them creative license to do what they think works best for the show. All of those things foster creativity and a generally better story. This is good.

 Let us also be clear: this is a complete fad.

Networks are always looking for their keystone programming, they're just more willing to take risks with their investments now that other networks have proven the format. That format? Early film reel serials. Self-contained stories with a designed beginning, middle, and end, fluffed up in the middle of each installment with some odd complication that extends the plot out and requires a steady viewing of the complete material for total understanding, but could otherwise be shown to a complete stranger at any point and give a reasonable account of the series' tone at large, preferably drawing them in to start from the beginning. Really, there's two target demographics working together who would normally compete here: Networks are now considering Netflix when they make a show.

Admittedly, that's something a a gross generalization. A more nuanced explanation might be that Networks have discovered a way to draw readers into live-airing programming (more developed storytelling) while simultaneously drawing back former viewers who have "cut the chord" with cable in favor of online streaming services for only a select few shows (format your show in easy-to-binge plot chunks for the Netflix addicts). Ideally, they seek to draw the latter group back into the former, and return a few precious commercial ad dollars.

The plan is a good one. Certainly serial dramas have not done well on television previously, at least on the whole. Sit-Coms and episodic dramas do better in syndication, as a single episode will be unlikely to contain much character or plot development for the overall series. Even fans of cult classic shows like Twin Peaks or The X-Files which skewed early towards long-form plots are hard-pressed to argue that the one-off episodes didn't tend toward being far better than later "wrap-it-all-up" episodes.

Much of this can be blamed on a lack of funding, or Network meddling ruining a great, masterfully arranged concept (Firefly being the quintessence to many viewers). And, to be honest, a serial format wasn't really a proven concept. Miniseries traditionally wouldn't do well. For every Roots their were Doctor Who made-for-TV movies that had been downgraded from series orders. And for every Who there were about 17 single-cam "I Love Lucy" and Honeymooners knock-offs which could be made for far less money.


Maybe we can call this period the Age of the Serials. Franchises are more powerful than ever in the entertainment world. I've long enjoyed photographing the movie posters at my local theater and commenting with "Sequel … sequel … remake … sequel of a remake … based off a TV show …" etc., etc. But these isn't the mere "Halloween: Part 5" franchises anymore. Now we're dealing with two-to-three movies a year coming out of Marvel studios, each its own franchise or potential franchise, crossing over every three years with a massive billion dollar event film, new Spider-Man and associated spin-offs from SONY, DC Comics and Warner Bros. trying to replicate that success with a new Superman, Batman, and Justice League shared universe, FOX adopting comic book time travel to link rebooted universes into a massive conglomerate for X-Men, and freaking STAR WARS getting produced into an even bigger Death Star of a warship. All of these movies I will pay upwards of $18 to see in theaters, possibly with popcorn, by the end of next year.

Now, nerds have always been more amiable to serialized stories. It's where we come from, generally speaking. The trick Networks have played is to convince average, well-rounded people to become as fanatical about one particular show as rabid nerds can be about Star Wars. I've seen people reading Game of Thrones who had previously seriously doubted had the capacity to read. Those are 700 pages tomes, filled to bursting with obscure, Old English spellings and fanciful, fictitious languages. Characters fight with swords and dragons, but spend 90% of their time engaging in courtly intrigue and sharp wit. People are buying these kinds of books because they "Really liked the first three seasons."

So what was the trick, if not simply making a better product? It's this: these Networks are still dying.


HBO GO was crashed by the sheer number of people attempting to stream the Game of Thrones premier through the network's app. The majority of these people do not pay any money to HBO, but rather know someone who was willing or foolish enough to fork over their password. These people, actual HBO subscribers, could watch the premier live on their TVs. This means that nearly all of the people watching through the app one hour after broadcast were not actually paying HBO anything. They were stealing. So many of them that it outstripped the service's ability to function.

Or perhaps we pick a different delivery method. FX Network bills American Horror Story as an "anthology series," each season being a self-contained story akin to a long-format Twilight Zone. Each season is 12-13 episodes, amassing equal airtime, about 75% of that actual story. These shows are watched once, and then nothing. Perhaps some DVD sales. But they are talked about seemingly forever, but mostly only in anticipation of the next episode or iteration.

There are always a few viewers who will subscribe to a Network or service just to watch their one new favorite series, but these are not life-time consumers. They are month-to-month and you can't maintain a vast corporation around that when 99% of your other programming is turned on in the background of a Kraft Dinner. Networks are going to hemorrhage money from their cheap shows while 1% of their lineup makes a majority of the profits, but those shows continue to cost drastically more to produce in the first place. The logical solution seems to be to produce fewer shows with higher quality, and allow for more reruns and syndication in their 24-hour broadcast cycles.

But there's the kick: not one viewer cares. They want to see their show, and they want to be able to gorge on it. So for the time being, Networks make their best shows drawn-out and riddled with suspense, so much so that  we end up watching flawed characters make flawed decisions on ever more increasingly grand scales, becoming cartoonish villains and caricatures of their initial selves. Jack Bauer has had the worst 192 hours a human being can endure. Walter White became Lex Luthor, and then Bryan Cranston narrowly lost that exact role to the kid from "The Social Network." Don Draper is in desperate need of a psychologist and a liver transplant, Rick Grimes and his son Carl have pretty obviously turned into mad sociopaths out of necessity, and I honestly don't know if the apparently endless Stark lineage can survive a planned seven-book run. The stakes keep getting higher, every commercial or credits run comes with bated breath, and viewers wait interminably for another episode to air, as if it were the only thing worth discussing since Tony Soprano (maybe) died.

Meanwhile, I'm done. Many, many, people, nerds and hipsters and Pre-K teachers among them, are bailing on watching live programming. A lot of people I know are using DVR to at least watch a show on their own work schedule or skip through the commercials, while many others simply stream online. Lamenting that Netflix can't upload a season until the home release is also available? Here's a neat trick: try Googling "Watch [NAME OF SHOW] online," and see what pops up. Legality issues aside, everything you've ever wanted to watch even the slightest is available to view on the Internet for free. It's not even hard, and in most cases, once the file is uploaded, there's nothing illegal about watching the thing that's already there. (Downloading and uploading, mind you, are still outlandishly punishable copyright offenses.)

Instantaneous gratification culture is killing Network Television, and I couldn't care less. I'm more excited to see what existing and new companies do when they realize it'll be more profitable to create one exceptional franchise with a reasonable pace and release it in complete installments all together (Hint hint: Arrested Development) than to cling desperately to failing media and schedules, begging Seth McFarlane to drop one more morsel on their plate. Even George Lucas and Spielberg discussed the future of the movie industry in similar terms, telling Empire magazine last year to expect fewer, bigger-budget movies and lots of small indie films, with ticket prices correlated directly to that cost, and playing in theaters for up to years at a time.

I would love to see 17 television stations and a TV that's mostly streaming apps à la carte.

Disney Buys LucasFilm, to Make More 'Star Wars'

4:16 p.m. October 30, 2012. Day after Hurricane Sandy knocks out my heat, water, power, internet, and phone service. This is the exact moment my heart broke and I lost the ability to empathize with children, or humanity on a whole.

Disney has purchased LucasFilm LTD. for a total of $4.05 billion. Part of the deal includes detailed plot treatments for another Lucas-designed Star Wars trilogy (and Indiana Jones, but let's not bury the lead here).

Granted, George has done none of the good for SW in 20 years, but still, tis is a terrifying thought. What horrible, canonical sequels and spinoffs could they wreak?

"But Dave!" you say, and loudly for some reason, "Doesn't Disney own Marvel, and aren't the Avengers movies kick ass?" Well, yes, however those movies were started before Disney bought Marvel, and they're productions of Marvel Studios a semi-autonomous division, and currently under the reign of the almighty Joss Whedon, blessed be his name. They get multiple byes that Star Wars may not.

Honestly, I try to placate myself. Most of the best Star Wars stuff has always been someone else's. Irvin Kirshner's death this year hit me pretty hard. I don't go in for a lot of the Old Republic EU, just the newest stuff with the primary characters and their families. This won't really affect me so much, even if they do create terrible sequesls starting as early as 2015.

But then I ask myself, what could really be worse than George Lucas making more Star Wars episodes? And I'm horrified to say the first thing–the only thing, really–that instantaneously comes to mind, is "Disney making more Star Wars."


May the Force be with us. We're gonna need it.

http://youtu.be/wzDIClx-_pY?t=53s

What We Talk About When We Talk About Agent Coulson

Alright, it's been a week since The Avengers came out. Typically, I would follow the etiquette of twice that length before openly discussing major plot points, however:

A) I'm not waiting a week to discuss this minor epiphany I came to after creating that Raymond Carver-inspired title up top. And

B) In it's first week it's already the 37th highest-grossing film ever, making it the quickest to hit multiple dollar marks. So, frankly, if you were going to see Avengers, and it really meant that much to you to do so, you've most likely already seen it and like me you're about to go back for seconds.


Therefore, for the seventeen East Filipino natives who have yet to actually see the film due to illness, remote location, or a tardy significant other, but are otherwise still intent on doing so:


*HUGE FREAKING SPOILERS*

Now here we go.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Agent Coulson

Let us address the great tragedy of Phillip Coulson up-front: Joss Whedon did that thing he does to at least one fan-favorite supporting character in essentially everything he's ever done.

"I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I s

You saw the spoiler warning. He's dead. He died graphically, through the chest as usual, and he was interrupted by it in the middle of saying something cool.

Here's the part where I defend Joss by saying it was the right call for the story, that no other character was equal parts expendable, mortal, yet lovable. Then I argue as Joss so recently noted, that Coulson's death was part and parcel for his agreeing to direct, a set-in-stone plot device he was told had to happen along with big explosions and plenty of Robert Downey, or that even actor Clark Gregg agreed it was necessary.

Looks like I just did that, so moving on.


Why the hell did we care? Only Whedon fanboys or Whedon detractors (read: "disenfranchised fanboys") know the director's little hallmarks well enough to half-expect these maneuvers, so for the moment, let's ignore that minority argument of "it wasn't as surprising."

Somewhere along the line, we started caring about Coulson. Why?

He's a high-level flunky, but he's a flunky. A nothing. He's a slight man in a black suit who worls for the government. He's paid to be a generally nonthreatening liaison. He works for the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. He knows some stuff he doesn't talk about, but that's about it. He doesn't get his hands dirty and he's not important enough that he doesn't have to schlep across the country to pick up a package. He's not a superhero.

"You guys seen the new Dark Knight Rises trailer?"
"Looks pretty sweet, right?"

Which is why we love him.

He's just some guy in a suit with a receding hairline. His suit isn't cybernetic, it's wool. He's not the "master assassin" or spy, that's what Natasha and Clint are for. He's Nick Fury's "good eye." He babysits the fresh supers until they're ready to be integrated with the rest of the class. He's very understanding, but stern. He can manipulate other normal people very easily, because he's gotten a glimpse of the larger scope of things. Still, there's not much he could really do about it. Dodge a heat blast, run from the exploding car. Lecture Stark about being self-obsessed, try not to miss "Supernanny." In a room full of normal people, he's pretty cool, but on a helecarier, he's still a dork.

Avengers does a terrific job of humanizing Coulson more than any other appearance. Fitting, as we should ideally learn and care about him more right before they take him from us (thank you very much, Alfred Hitchcock):

Pepper Potts reminds us that "Agent" Coulson's first name is Phil. And while Tony's been out saving the world, Phil was dating a cellist. Phil gushes to Steve Rogers, admitting a little too much that he is as big a fanboy as the rest of us. Even the other top S.H.I.E.L.D. agents think it's a little silly how proud he is of his complete set of Captain America trading cards. But those suckers are near-mint. Every huge nerd in the audience loved Coulson a little more when he heard the big NR. (Note: that was most of the midnight audiences, everyone in costume, and, yes, that was almost entirely a male population.)

Coulson was us, watching all these heroes grow into their own. He personally brought them all out. The only Avenger he didn't personally meet was Hulk–but wait! Phil sent Tony Stark to meet with General Ross at the end of Incredible Hulk, just so the General would refuse an asinine request S.H.I.E.L.D. was goaded into making to put the Abomination on the team instead of Hulk.

Coulson's kind of the man. Just a little bit. Sweet lines, cool job, just a little badass about it. I'd hang out with that guy. Hell, I want to see his trading cards. Coulson's the type of Cool Guy Secret Nerd every nerd wants to be, except he probably doesn't know the real elite spies kind of think he's a dork.

Doesn't matter, he's the highest suit they've got. He's a field agent. Intelligence. He's swank and has Level 7 clearance. If there's something you don't know, he knows and he has a list of everyone else who knows on the planet, and he's authorized to kill you for asking about it.

"Funny, she doesn't look Asgardian."

But after all that, he's just a guy who watched superhero reels growing up. He had his lunchbox and he collected his cards, grew up, got a job, and did it well until he went home. He wasn't irradiated or an extradimensional being, he didn't get into a horrifying accident or some terrible situation that scarred him emotionally at a young age,thus transforming him into a vicious killer. He's not even a remotely decent killer after training. The guy's probably pretty good in a bar fight if it ever came to that, but he doesn't seem the type to use his S.H.I.E.L.D.-issue Krav Maga lessons at a servesa joint.

Alrights, Coulson's a little Crouching Tiger.

Still, there's no way Coulson was going to keep up in a theater of metahuman war. Even Black Widow and Hawkeye were only narrowly useful, and there were two of the pinacles of human achievement in the art of short- and mid-range killing things. They're what nerds call "peak human condition," or "Batman." Like the caped crusader, these people are the best at erasing the best of the best from history, quietly and thanklessly. If you expect to beat them, you better hope to have superpowers.

Coulson does not. Coulson has a big gun and he doesn't really know what it does. (Okay, I'm sure he did and was just being cute.) That's why Coulson's death was tragic. There's a flying aircraft carrier full of metahumans, and one asshole with a grudge and a head start is running murderous circles around all of them. He's got Thor trapped in a cage for the Hulk, the Hulk smashing a plane outside, Iron Man in a turbine, and Captain America learning to be an electrician.

And Coulson steps up with a gun and a big mouth.

It was a suicide run. Even when he got off a shot it didn't do kill Loki. Coulson knew he was borked but he stood up to be the hero as best he knew how, because it was the right thing to do. And he was right. He was also right when he said the team wasn't going to work, that they needed a personal reason to fight in all this. His death, he knew, could be that element, so he was not sad. It was an honorable death and one that achieved something, making him a part of the team.


I do not mourn Obi-Wan Kenobi's death. Or Harry Potter's, or Aerith in Final Fantasy (but I don't think anybody really did). These things were necessary. (Mostly.)

I do not mourn Phillip Coulson, I honor his life and contributions to the world. And if I ever need to see him again, I'll look into my heart and see what greatness he ushered into the world.

Or I'll just pop over to The HUB and watch him on "Ultimate Spider-Man." Clark Gregg's gotta eat.

*THWIP THWIP* Petey.

Then again, Nick did lie about quite a bit, and until Avengers 2 there's always the rumor that Hank Pym is going to build Ultron of of leftover Coulson bits. I wonder if Clark Gregg likes steak.

The Avengers: All the Non-Spoilers You Need to Watch For

*Disclaimer: The following are non-spoilers*

What follows will contain no references to events or plot development, only subtle gags and blink-and-you-miss-it throw-aways. If you don't even want those, bugger off.

Okay, first off, what everyone always needs to know: Yes, you need to sit through the credits. 

All the credits. There's– there's no easy way to say this. Joss Whedon must have awoken from a dead sleep sweating and panting with his own brilliance, because he did two. Well, sort of. One and a half. Look, just sit in your seat until the lights come up, okay?


Now then, let's move forward. Other items to watch for:

• Stan Lee: Yes, he's there. Yes, speaking; one line. Late in the movie.

• Thor Easter eggs: Yes, a few of them come up.

• Coulson: Adorable.

• Joss Whedon Dialogue: Amazing.

• A certain tower.

•  Grand Central Terminal. Related: a quiet moment therein.

• "Puny God."

• Schwarma.

Listen, I pretty much went into this deciding that no movie on Earth could possibly live up to all the hype surrounding it. I also preemptively decided this movie did.

I wasn't wrong.

Green Lantern - In Brightest Glowing Suit, In Darkest Bitter Review

I'd still have preferred Nathan Fillion, but I said the same thing for Captain
America, and he's admittedly too old to play these characters live, now.

I saw Green Lantern last night. Originally I had a wonderful idea to tear down all the terrible things about it, starting with the line, "In brightest lens flare, in darkest…" something. Well, it didn't quite work out that way. Here are all the lousy things about Green Lantern:

• The score's main theme sounds a little like the vintage Superman music, which is to say it's a grand, sweeping fanfare on some horns, or a traditional fanfare, really.
• The suit was a little weird. It could have easily been CG less often, but it wouldn't have glowed as much, so I get it. (I'm sorry, did you want the glowy man and all of his space alien friends flying around an alien planet to by a bunch of puppets? My deepest apologies.)
• The last fight could have been a little longer and involved a few weirder ring constructs.
• They mention some flashbacks happened in 1993, and young Hal looks about 9 or 10, which means Green Lantern is only like 3 years older than me and that means my life is already wasted. At best, I can hope to be Kyle Rayner and find my girlfriend dead in a fridge a few years from now.

That's. About. It.

The pacing was good, the characters were all fairly well enacted, Ryan Reynolds did not turn Hal Jordan into some ridiculous caricature of Van Wilder, and there were tons of great fan nods. Of no importance:

• Carol Ferris' callsign as a pilot is "Sapphire." (She later becomes the character "Star Sapphire.")
• Explanations for there being multiple emotion-color-powers in the universe
• Guardians mention that they did not always rely on green lantern power to enforce peace (manhunters!)
• Specific green lanterns in crowd scenes included B'Zzz or whatever (the bee) and a few others
• Angela Bassett cameos as a certain Project Cadmus bitch
• There is in fact a teaser at the end of the film, and it's incredibly important

Here's the thing, though. I cannot for the life of me figure out why even now Rotten Tomatoes has it at a twenty-three percent freshness rating. Twenty-three! That's twenty point below "My. Popper's Penguins." Really? I don't see how that's possible.

Maybe they're judging it by the seven people who were judging this as a stand-alone movie? People who had no interest in the character or story and were just looking for a good time? Maybe. They probably would have hated all the little blue guys and the big green guys and the weird yellow cloud thing and the pink guy and Tim Robbins.

Which raises an interesting point: we're at a point where comic book movies are actually getting made for people who read the comic books and not casual fans who want to see a good guy in a cape.

• Batman x3
• Superman reboot
• Green Lantern
• Spiderman reboot
• 3x Iron Man, 2x Thor, a Hulk reboot, 2x Captain America and an Avengers extravaganza
• Kick-Ass
• An X-Men prequel and and new Wolverine

Superhero films are starting to rely more heavily on the established fan base, also the ones from earlier movies, but predominantly comic book nerds who are going to all pay for a ticket at least once, even if they think they'll hate the product. There's suddenly this sense of treating the source material as something more than just a jumping-off point for explosions and insufferable drama. The fact that DC is trying to rebrand its Superman to fit more in line with The Dark Knight and axed that god awful Ally McBeal-style Wonder Woman television series proves this.

For some reason, it is no longer okay to screw with time-honored and beloved characters.

You know, unless you're their comic writers.