Review: "Upstairs Downstairs"

Last night, PBS debuted its newest miniseries, Upstairs Downstairs, a continuation of the beloved series that went off the air in the late 1970s. It takes place in 1936, right when Hitler is gaining power but Wallis Simpson is the Brits' biggest enemy. Since viewers only got to see one hour-long episode of the three part series, I can't truly decide how I feel about it. It was entertaining, and I loved the set decor and costumes, but I don't love any of the characters yet. This is not for lack of fantastic actors. With stars from Anne Frank, Little Dorritt, Cranford, and the original Upstairs Downstairs, there is enough twinkling talent to rival the glittering chandeliers at 165 Eaton Place. However, not even great performers can give life to a trite script. For example, Claire Foy, who was magical as Amy Dorritt in Little Dorritt was annoying as the petulant Lady Persie, and Ellie Kendrick's Anne Frank from last spring's Diary of Anne Frank, a powerful performance, seemed a distant memory as Kendrick wailed and bemoaned her lot as the blubbering maid Ivy.

While I did enjoy the episode, I did think the plot was a bit cumbersome. There seemed to be a checklist that the screenwriters had for this first part. Meddling mother-in-law? Check. Free-spirited maid? Check. Sweet footman from the wrong side of the tacks? Check and check. I could go on and on, but every time a new character was introduced, I couldn't help but think "Oh, that's like so-and-so from such-and-such." And moments in the plot felt rather far-fetched. Rose, our connection to the old series who spent forty years as a servant, gives up being the head of a staff employment agency to be a housekeeper? Why?

Last night I found myself longing for Downton Abbey, the tender portrayals of both the aristocrats and the servants. Even the most odious characters could be sympathetic at times (with the exception of that sociopath Thomas the footman. He was just creepy). The love story of the maid Anna and the valet Mr. Bates alone is worth watching all four 90 minute episodes in one sitting, and even the most melodramatic moments (The Titanic, WWI, miscarriages caused by bars of soap on bathroom floors) were full of heart.

However, Downton has a luxury that Upstairs Downstairs does not: time. This series will only be three hour-long episodes, and that itsn't a lot of time to introduce a dozen new characters and encompass life in England before WWII. Once the war began, bombs fell on London, and it didn't matter whether one's life took place upstairs or downstairs; survival was what counted. So, trying to capture that small window of life right at the cusp of change is a difficult task, and I don't evny the filmmakers that. Yet, I think that the story would be better if it weren't bogged down in so many politcal and social details. Instead, all focus should be directed towards the people in this story, and how they come together as an unequal but committed unit. Then perhaps this new chapter at 165 Eaton Place might feel less like a familiar tale a more like a fresh take on an unconventional family.

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Review: Jane Eyre

I'm going to level with you: I love costume dramas. Now, I don't love them as a favorite genre; I consider them a way of life, an art form to study. Give me Austen, Dickens, any Bronte and a day to bask in the glory of the film, and I am the happiest girl in the world. I own versions from several different decades of all of my favorites, including both the 1943 and 2006 adaptations of Jane Eyre. I'm not going to brag or anything (since I haven't expressed my geekiness fully), but I consider myself an expert on heritage films. I took several classes in college on film adaptations, and it only fueled my passion.

You can imagine how incredibly geeked up I was to find out about this newest version of Charlotte Bronte's oeuvre. It didn't seem like it was ever going to come to my city, but a little internet sleuthing and a 30 minute drive is a small price to pay for such a glorious movie.

Yes, I used the word glorious. Because I LOVED this version. Had I not been on the other side of town with errands to run, I would have bought another ticket and stayed to absorb the beauty of this gem all over again. The scenery? The costumes? The acting? The dame herself, Judi? I can go on and on, ad nauseum. I was worried about a 2 hour version of JE since my favorite version that tells the whole story is a whopping 4 hours. Can a feature film contain a story that is normally produced in miniseries format? This one absolutely does.

Is the story condensed? Yes, of course. Are some complicated details smoothed over? Understandably. One notable exclusion is the face that St. John Rivers, Jane's pseudo rebound post broody Rochester, is Jane's cousin. Yes, first cousin. And, I understand why the filmmakers decided to omit that part; it's shocking to modern audiences and another complication in the last 15 minutes of the film. To be honest, I didn't really miss it.



Look at the chemistry in the picture above. Can you stand it? Michael Fassbender's tender interpretation of a normally steely Edward Rochester was refreshing and immensely satisfying. Mia Wasikowska was stoic as strong-willed Jane, a wonderfully feminist character in a decidedly unfeminist time. Mrs. Fairfax's role was amped up to give Judi Dench some room to showcase her considerable acting chops, and it was perfect. She was warm and maternal, yet she conveyed an array of emotions with just the shift of her eyebrow. An utterly fantastic performance that rounded out a strong cast.

At times a bit spooky (director Cary Fukunaga drew from the novel's gothic elements) and and many times romantic, this newest adaptation of Jane Eyre joins 27 other films, and, unlike some of the more forgettable versions, it will stand the test of time.

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An Open Letter To The Kings of Leon

Dear Caleb, Nathan, Jared and Matthew,

How are you? I feel like we've been out of touch for a while. Maybe it's because you're so busy selling out stadiums all over the world, or maybe it's because I haven't been listening. Either way, we haven't heard from each other. Can I be honest? I miss you guys. But not the you of today. Remember when you looked like this:




No fancy haircuts, no stylists, just a family band recording in their garage whose mom (or aunt in Matthew's case) would tailor their pants for them because they weren't tight enough. Remember those guys? Caleb, I couldn't understand what you were singing, but I knew that you meant every word. Now, instead of songs about beating people up ("Four Kicks" from the wonderful Aha Shake Heartbreak), you're writing about needing people ("Use Somebody," pandering set to music if ever I've heard it). Where's my beloved bad ass band?

I've been to two of your shows, 2005 and 2007 at the Ryman. You were rowdy, reckless and rocking. People got into fights in front of me, everyone was dancing, and the crowd loved you. Now, I understand that it's hard to write raw, emotion-filled songs when your life is so perfect. You're seeing beautiful women, making boatloads of money and getting tons of radio play. And that's wonderful. I've always wanted for you to succeed. However, I wish you could stay a bit truer to your roots. This last album was too slick, too arena-friendly. It sounded like a producer worked it over, and that's not who you are. Everyone is comparing you to U2...is that what you want?

So, here's my advice. Tell your people to go on vacation. Sit in the studio and make music, not for the radio or the concerts but for your fans. Remember us? The fans who've known and loved you for eight years? We loved you when your hair was a mess and your jeans were a bit too tapered. Can we be friends again?

I'll always consider myself a fan, boys. I'm not fair weather, and, I get it, you've got to go mainstream. But, please, don't wait to return to your roots. They're waiting for you on "True Love Way."

Come home soon, Kings.


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Gone Before Their Time: TV Shows Canceled Too Soon

We're nearing the time when we find out what shows will stay on and which will be kicked off the air. What with all of the Charlie Sheen wizarding/tiger blood/winning -- duh drama and looming permanent demise of Two and a Half Men (a show I have never, ever liked), I couldn't help but think about shows I've truly loved and lost.

Of course, Gilmore Girls is the first I think of. An innocent bystander of contracting disagreements between the studio and creator/writer/producer/genius Amy Sherman Palladino, the seventh season of the show, without Palladino at the helm, felt just wrong. Lorelai married Christopher? Rory didn't get a job with The New York Times? Things didn't get back on track until the last two or three episodes, but the damage was irreparably done to a wonderful story. I have friends who won't recognize the final season as legitimate, and, try as I might, I can't be satisfied with its ending. I'd love to know how Palladino would have wrapped things up, but, alas, I guess we'll never know. Perhaps Luke and Lorelai are married with a baby or two and Rory is working at some fabulous paper or magazine in New York, but, unless there's a movie, I'll never be sure.

Another victim of TV politics, Pushing Daisies, the story of magical piemaker Ned and his charming girlfriend Chuck , was cruelly canceled in its second season after the writer's strike in 2007-8. It came back once things were resolved, but the fledgling show couldn't regain any momentum. It was a lovely quirky story: boy meets girl, girl dies, boy brings her back to life with one touch but can never touch her again, boy and girl solve crimes. If Tim Burton wanted to do CSI: Romeo and Juliet with Julia Child as an executive producer, their show would have been Pushing Daisies. There was some closure to the final episode, but I would prefer to still be basking in the warm, sweet world of Ned and Chuck instead of having stale slices of seasons on Netflix. Oh well.

A more recent show to meet the ax is The Good Guys on FOX. It was a throwback to 1970s buddy cop movies, and I loved each goofy episode. Unfortunately, viewers did not. It was a Friday night show, the kiss of death for most programs, and, as most freshman series are wont to do, it was at times inconsistent. But the acting was great, and who doesn't love a mustachioed renegade cop and his straight-laced partner? I'll miss you, Good Guys, even if I hardly knew ye.

The Grim Reaper of TV is at times unpredictable, ignoring a show's popularity or age. A series can last for 10 seasons or 10 episodes and still come to an end. Here's hoping my favorites have a long and healthy run. And as for Two and a Half Men? I'd rather stay tuned for Jon Cryer's next project...Pretty in Pink 2 please?

Esperanza Spalding: Why She Deserved To Win

Justin Beiber fans are in a tizzy today. What's all the fuss about? Someone else beat him for the best new artist Grammy. What? Someone is more talented than the Beibs? Yes, believe it or not, being able to croon and primp hair coveted by millions isn't synonymous with significance as an artist. And who is this upstart who dared take away Justin's award? The supremely talented Esperanza Spalding, who won last night's Best New Artist Grammy. To be honest, I don't think any of the other contenders earned it more.

Spalding, a jazz/funk musician, has a fantastic voice and plays the upright bass. At only 25 she has already had quite the career. She started playing the upright at 15 after mastering other instruments, including the violin (which he taught herself!). A that same age she was concertmaster for the Chamber Music Society of Oregon. At 16 she went to college, and by 20 she was an instructor at the Berklee College of Music. Yes, while most people her age have finished college and are probably working in an entry level job, Spalding has made her mark on the music world.

My only quibble with her win? She isn't truly a new artist. This is her third album, and I think it's about time she was recognized for her talent. But, now the world will hopefully take more notice of her, and I can't wait to see where she will go from here.

Television Guilty Pleasures

What makes a guilty pleasure? Do you keep it a secret? Do you love it even more because you are embarrassed by it? Well, I'm airing my dirty laundry right here, right now. My guilty pleasure is trashy TV shows, preferably for the teenage set. If the characters are still in high school, then I'd probably love it. As a college graduate and a bit of an entertainment snob, it pains me to admit how much I love my bad TV. Now, don't get me wrong, I have a long list of intriguing, complex shows that I adore. But, I can freely admit on a first date that I watch Dexter. What does it say about me that I love The Vampire Diaries and Pretty Little Liars? Nothing good, I can imagine.

In order to feel more justified in my tastes, I am going to embark of a study of bad TV. I have a list of criteria for any show to become a guilty pleasure. It goes as follows:

1. Are the characters in high school?

2. Do said characters dress and act more adult than I do?

3. Are the mores of the show morally ambiguous?

Don't I sound smart? See, mom, the TV isn't melting my brain. And, finally:

4. Are there lots of handsome men to look at?

Both TVD and PLL fit these criteria in spades. Shall we examine the specimens?

Exhibit A: PLL centers around a group of four friends (clockwise: Hanna, Emily, Aria and Spencer) who are being hounded by the mysterious "A." A year ago, the leader of their posse, Alison, was murdered. She knew all of their secrets, and now "A" knows them too. It's a complicated web we weave when first we deceive, and the plot is a doozy. Characters come out of nowhere, "A" appears to be a coordinated home intruder, computer hacker and mastermind, and, to top it all off, they're all supposed to be 16. Crazy? Yes. Fun? Most definitely. Money is stolen, friendships are betrayed, and one of the liars has a romance with her English teacher, Ezra Fitz. Granted, they didn't know who the other was when they met in a bar (who lets a 16-year-old into a bar?), and Ezra can't be more than 6 or 8 years older than Aria, but it's still a felony. However, I love it. This show is not trying to be something deep. It's cotton candy for your brain; sweet, sugary, and a total treat.

Exhibit B: The Vampire Diaries is the story of Elena (center) and her relationship with vampires Stefan Salvatore (left) and his brother Damon (right). Human Elena is dating Stefan, but she has chemistry with Damon, who is secretly in love with her but can't seem to stop killing people. Oh, and there are lots of other vampires (including one of Elena's best friends and her birth mother), witches (Elena's other best friend), werewolves and general mayhem. There's lots of drinking, killing and other forms of debauchery, but there's something about this show that's fantastic. At times it's spooky, at others it's steamy, and there are lots of sweet moments between the characters. Also, even when the dialogue is a bit hokey, -- with a plot like this, it has to be -- the actors are still very convincing.

I've discovered a lot about guilty pleasures during my extensive field work. I think the key to them is escapism. I'm not in a love triangle between two vampire brothers, and I've never dated a teacher, but I enjoy seeing other people in a melodrama. At the end of the day, these are soap operas that give us a window into someone else's life. And I can shut that window any time I want. But not tonight; The Vampire Diaries is on.

Awards Season: "The King's Speech" Rules All

It is a truth universally acknowledged that I've always been a Colin Firth fan. I know that may sound hyperbolic, but I kid you not. I first saw the 1987 version of The Secret Garden when I was about 4, and, at the very end, a dashing adult version of crippled Colin Firth as Colin Creevey comes back the the garden during WWI; he proposes to Mary Lennox and ruins all other men for a very young me. While this is an obvious liberty taken with the book, and his time onscreen may have been 5 minutes at the most, Colin made a lasting impression. Most Austen-aholics know him as the best Fitzwilliam Darcy ever seen on the silver screen, and I couldn't agree more whole-heartedly. He makes being a regency hottie seem so easy and has become the ultimate Darcy by which all are compared.

But Colin is more than a pretty face; the man can act! His most recent role as King George VI in The King's Speech was nothing short of spectacular. I laughed, I cried, and I basked in Colin's superb performance. He was sheer perfection. As someone who stuttered when she was younger, I was reminded of all of my anger and exhaustion with my speech issues, and I wasn't trying to guide a nation through a war like Bertie. You know a performance is great when the audience forgets they aren't actually in the story. For the last 30 minutes of the film, I held my breath. My stomach churned; my eyes streamed with tears. I was a wreck, and it was all because of Colin Firth being amazing. Yet, as intensely wrought as the drama was, Colin was funny. I couldn't believe that I laughed almost as much as I cried. Don't just take my word for it; people applauded in the movie theater I was in, and friends in Colorado and Missouri said the same thing happened at their viewings. Seems that no one needs convincing about this sweet film's merits.

Colin Firth will sweep this awards season, and it couldn't go to a more deserving actor. While he'll always be Darcy to me, he deserves every accolade that come his way for this amazing performance. Natalie Portman may be the darling this awards season, but I'm thinking strictly of Colin when the Oscars roll around.