Show: Revolution
Season: One
Episode Two, “Chained Heat”
Grade: C+

The writing continues to be the main weakness in this second instalment as, in typical JJ Abrams fashion, the characters act and react predictably and moronically.

Take this week’s early set up, obnoxious, main character Charlie, pulls a shit fit when her Uncle Miles is about to kill a bounty hunter (played by an extremely old looking C. Thomas Howell) who had tried to kill them.  She ends up guilting him out of it and, of course, C. Thomas ends up almost killing them again later.

I seriously don’t know how long the show can sustain the weight of such a hateful central character.  That’s what sunk shows like The Event, which had a way more intriguing premise than the stultifyingly dumb one of Revolution, i.e., all electricity inexplicably went dead so in less than 10 years the world becomes an anarchic mess controlled by a Militant Group that considers people who carry the American flag, rebels… uh yeah, ok.

How much is one supposed to suspend their beliefs?  I guess Abrams intends to stretch that question to its utmost limits.

Anyway, lemme make my way back to the actual episode, which this week was actually a scintilla better than the pilot.

The basic plot is Uncle Miles needs to find some woman (who you just know is gonna be an unrealistically hot babe) who is good at “blowing up stuff” in order to retrieve Charlie’s brother from the Monroe Militia.

After Charlie almost gets everyone dead (as mentioned above) Miles decides to continue on his own and meet his niece and her two protectors (who from now until the end of the season I will refer to as Google Guy and Brit Mom) in a couple of weeks in Indiana.  Selfish and insensitive as ever, the petulant teen decides to go after him and leaves her companions high and dry in the middle of nowhere.

This is actually proves to be the most effective scene in the episode and so far the series, as her friends discuss the electrical failure a bit more clearly.  Brit Mom reveals the reason she keeps a long dead iPhone with her is because somewhere in there contains the only pictures of her (assumingly dead) children, bringing up a surprisingly insightful point about today’s technology and just how tenuous it all is.  Google Guy reciprocates her candor with a revelation of his own as he fesses up to his being asked by Charlie’s father to bring the pendant flash drive thingy to a woman who would know what to do with it, thus leading him to the possibility that this black out is man made, and thusly, can be fixed.

Next we see the brother witness the killing a man who was in possession of guns (apparently a big no no).  One of the soldiers gets shot in the ensuing firefight and we see a surprising gentler side to his main captor (Giancarlo Esposito) who comforts the wounded soldier administering a fast acting poison to put him out of his misery.  This adds an interesting wrinkle to the plot… Is he a psychopath (as the brother calls him) or just a good man in a bad situation committed to the cause.

Charlie and Uncle Miles meanwhile do eventually meet up with the explosives expert they were looking for, who does, of course, turn out to be an unrealistically hot babe, in an elaborate fight scene wherein they retrieve a prized sniper rifle and Charlie bypasses her ethics and ends up killing two prison guards.  Explosives expert babe agrees to help them in return for their help in delivering the gun to a rebel base.

All this leads up to the final scene shocker that Charlie’s mother is indeed alive and being held captive by the President of the Monroe Militia.

So far, the series has the emotional content of a B level video game, but it is getting better… So we’ll see.

Band:

Reviewing albums can be a tiresome, wearying experience (see No Doubt review), however every once in a while you get a nice surprise and Billie Joe and the boys have delivered one in spades.

The last decade has probably been the most successful period for the band, what with the musical and the multi-platinum American Idiot album and all, which is ironic considering the music they were making was not particularly Green Day-sy, for lack of a better adjective. I always respected Armstrong’s decision to stretch himself out musically and politically, but it just never hit me on a gut level.

Thusly, I was reticent to hear what their latest offering sounded like, and I can say unequivocally that UNO! (the first of a TRIPLE album set to be released separately) is a true return to their Dookie form. From beginning to end they never let up with some of the purest, hard driving power pop that I’ve heard since.. well Dookie.

First and foremost, this is the best sounding album Green Day has released. Instead of going for any bells and whistles production-wise, they smartly spared it way down, leaving only the elements that made them great in the first place. Instrumentally, the band is on fire; the guitar cuts through like a straight razor, with Armstrong finally allowing himself to play a more than competent lead guitar throughout. Tré Cool, and Mike Dirnt have also stepped it up a notch putting in the best performance of their career. The rhythm section is everything that I ever wanted to hear from them but felt they never quite pulled off… Cool’s snare punches through every song with an energy that seems impossible for someone approaching 40, and Dirnt’s bass tone sounds renewed; looping and pulsing in perfect syncoptation with the kick.

Songwise, the album is packed front to back with tuneful, concise numbers with nary a dead spot… There are no fast forward songs here, from the blistering opener, ‘Nuclear Family’, that sports a killer solo and melodic middle eight to the uplifting ‘Carpe Diem’ to the romantic, Knacks-y “Sweet 16″ to the positively anthemic closer (and first single) “Oh Love”, which I didn’t even like when I first heard it, but in the context of the other songs it’s absolutely perfect.

All this makes Billie Joe Armstrong’s recent personal struggles even more sad and upsetting, and the humiliation they suffered by having their performance cut off and his subsequent breakdown over it all the more infuriating.

Here’s hoping he gets better soon, cause this is an album I’d love to see them take to the road.

A modern classic.

Band:

After listening to “Push and Shove”, No Doubt’s first album in nearly 14 years,  I really just want to say “Shit Sandwich” and be done with it… but that would be too easy.

Never a big fan,  even in their heyday, I did like them well enough to understand what great a pop band they were at the time.  It wasn’t hard to get the bubbly charisma of their glamorous, yet whimsical front person and they played well constructed, unique songs with vigor and precision.

The key word there is SONGS.  No Doubt had a string of iconic and different melodies during their 90s run, that are now woven into that era’s tapestry along with Nirvana, Pearl Jam and uh, I dunno, Boyz II Men.

If you think about it, they’re really the only massively successful band of their kind; a bubble gum pop group that made you dance with heavy guitar riffing, thumping bass and a rocking beat.

Although their major label debut “Tragic Kingdom” was the apex of their career with out and out classics like “Don’t Speak” and “I’m Just a Girl”, the two subsequent albums were interesting in their own way as well, with stand out tunes like the funkalicious “Hella Good” off “Rock Steady” and the yearning “Simple Kind of Life” off of “Return of Saturn”… I only bring this up to mention that listening to these old recordings now in comparison, glaringly highlights this latest release’s flaws even more depressingly.

And what are these flaws?

Well, basically it comes down to the fact that they haven’t produced anything 14 years, and when you’re gone for that long, most of the time you should stay gone.

For what we have here is the pop equivalent of “Chinese Democracy”; a derivative, overwrought, tuneless mess.

It just sounds like it’s been fiddled with to death, the classic effect of overproduction and that’s always a recipe for disaster.

You can tell they were on top of every note, feeling the weight of the world to come up with something great after all these years, desperately piling effect after effect on each track, thinking they were creating genius, but instead, ending up with a joyless morass.  It’s this lack of joy, which was such a key element to their success, that sinks “Push and Shove” and buries it at the bottom of the ocean.

For some reason, instead of returning to their upbeat energetic sound, they decided to go with a more “mature” tone, and sing about being in committed relationships and the struggles within, in other words, “I’m Just a Girl” grew up to star in a Lifetime Movie and who the hell wants to here that.  Most egregious in all this is Gwen Stefani is totally MIA in spirit and personality; sounding like she needs a long nap for most of the album.

Songwise, there are none, No ‘No Doubt’ songs anyway. The Middle-East tinged opening number “Settle Down” sounds like something off the Sex and City 2 soundtrack, and that’s the BEST track on the album. The rest of the collection ranges from bad Madonna outtakes to tired dance floor crapola, sung by a dispassionate Stefani.

I didn’t want to not like this. I had hopes… after all they’re my generation and they represent a part of my youth in some small way.  But I can’t prop this up and justify its myriad weaknesses. Moreover, I have neither the inclination nor the energy to knock it any further, it’s just that bad.

Artist:

Brooklyn’s own Grizzly Bear could’ve easily buckled under the pressure of having to follow-up the popular and critically lauded 2009 hit “Veckatimest”.

I wouldn’t have held it against them, so many other bands have, so why not them? Refreshingly, however, they have risen to the occasion and delivered an album that builds on their successful formula and in most ways betters it.

Daniel Rossen still sounds like the New York version of Thom Yorke, and the music still lives in the same atmosphere of graceful sonics that has propelled them to acclaim, but the tunes are now more cohesive.  It’s a tighter sound, helped by more muscular and focused drumming this outing.

From the explosive Zeppelin-esque opener, “Sleeping Ute”, with its icy synth jabs punching their way through raucous garage band grandiosity, to the epic “Sun in Your Eyes”; a masterpiece of jazzy piano and 80s cool, this is the sound of a band at the top of its game, and you don’t want to miss it.

All great groups have one of these in their catalog, so I guess the Grizzlies have graduated to greatness.

Show: Revolution
Season: 1
Episode: 1 “Pilot”
Grade: F
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* SPOILERS AHEAD*

By Walrus September 17, 2012

With maybe one of the flimsiest premises to base a series upon, J.J. Abrams’ latest sci-fi venture for the small screen fails miserably.   There’s just no other way to say it.

As someone who followed LOST religiously, I watched this pilot with heady anticipation; would Abrams learn from past mistakes?  Would we be getting a bit of that LOST magic we nerds have been pining for?  The answer is NO and YES… and that’s a bad thing, because it forced me to remember how much I despised that last season.

To begin with, for anyone who doesn’t know, the major gist of Revolution is that for reasons unknown one day all electricity just turned off, thus throwing the entire world into chaos.

Our first encounter is with a family of four: mom, dad, brother and sister. The dad apparently knows what’s going on.  He “mysteriously” downloads something to a flash drive right before the world goes dark.*

Next we cut to 15 years later where our family is now living the agrarian life in a tiny village surrounded by bandits… kinda like Sherwood Forest except less interesting.

Cutting to the chase, predictably, pretty soon the dad ends up dead (100% the fault of his doofus son who also gets himself taken by the bad guys) and so sets up the quest for his moody teenaged daughter to find her uncle in Chicago who will ‘know what to do’.

Before all this happens, however, the dad gives his flash drive to a friend (an obligatory cheap laughs character), who just happens to have owned Google or something prior to the collapse, for safe keeping.  Little did he know.

Anyway, cheap laughs decides to come along with the daughter as well as dad’s girlfriend (the mother died apparently) who the teenager doesn’t get along with.

After about what seems like a fifteen minute walk to Chicago they find the uncle in the very first place they looked.  Go figure!

The son (an asthmatic) meanwhile escapes, has an attack and is eventually re-captured, but not before meeting a woman who has a secret that is revealed in typical Abrams fashion at the very end.

And, oh yeah, the world has been taken over by a militant group who just so happens to be an old friend of the uncle who has the battle skills of a ninja warrior.  GO FIGURE!

You got all that so far?

Before you say to yourself, “hey that doesn’t seem that bad”, believe me… it is.

We’re still gonna be reviewing every episode this season ‘cause we’re masochistic that way… and we’re hoping beyond hope that it gets better thus avoiding having to become this season’s The Event or even worse… Terra Nova.

Random thoughts:

• WHAT?  No one’s heard of hydro electric power?  Windmills?  COAL? In FIFTEEN YEARS no one has come up with anything? Bueller?
• The main character is a petulant bore who is good at archery…  hmmm… where have I seen that before?
• The acting is uniformly stiff, most egregiously of Tracy Spiridakos, the daughter; a Scarlett Johansen lookalike, with the acting skills of a Scarlett Johansen body double.
• JJ Abrams is fast becoming the small screen equivalent of M.Night Shamalayan.
• Speaking of directors, Jon Favreau (Iron Man) directed this episode… Was he sleep walking?

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*This scene (complete with airplanes falling out of the sky) was the only mildly cool part of the entire horrid pilot

Show: Saturday Night Live
Season: 38
Episode: 1 “Seth MacFarlane/Frank Ocean”
Grade: C
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By Walrus September 17, 2012

SNL Kicked off its new season, this past Saturday with a mixed bag of old tricks.

Entering their 38^th year with a few new players and the “momentous” news that Jay Pharoah will now be doing Obama instead of stalwart Fred Armisen AND Jason Sudekis will be returning for one final round (mainly to do his hamfistedly lousy impressions of Mitt Romney and Joe Biden) there was certainly a lot of hype surrounding this episode.

Alas, it was all for naught.

I mean, when the highlight of the show was John Mayer’s guitar solo on a pretty great Frank Ocean song, and I can’t stand neither John Mayer nor Frank Ocean, then you know something’s wrong.

It’s too bad too, as I am an unashamed Seth MacFarlane fan (his penchant for anti-Semitic jokes aside).  Unfortunately he did not do a very good job.

Aside from a fairly funny Ryan Lochte impression during the news segment, and a couple of moments in the opening (which was bogged down by an obligatory musical number giving Macfarlane another opportunity to once again bore America with his flaccid crooning style) the Family Guy creator was mostly subdued; appearing to be concentrating too heavily on the cue cards.

As for Pharoah’s new Obama. It was just alright, albeit a decidedly an improvement on Armisen’s take, as he added a few more facial expressions here and there and the timbre of his voice matched perfectly with that of the President’s.  Mainly, however, the sketch was just anemic.

Relying on the premise that Obama has done a lousy job (which I don’t necessarily agree with) but Romney is his secret weapon ‘cause he’s such a nimrod, it just kinda went nowhere.  Sudekis, as noted above, failed, as he did his usual Sudekian imitation of Romney which just means he played a generic goofball.  They’re all the same, it really doesn’t matter who he’s portraying, which makes it all the more baffling that he stuck around one more season to do a job that perhaps other people could actually try to get right.

We didn’t really get a chance to see too much from the new players, aside from Cecily Strong who played WAY over the top and majorly outdated Hispanic character, Mimi Morales, during the news segment, which seemed really out of touch and was pretty much the definition of an inauspicious beginning.

The only other slightly amusing bit was a clip on Clint Eastwood taking his act on the road played by the ever able Bill Hader.

As for the musical guest, Frank Ocean, as I’ve stated previously, I’m not a fan, but he surprised me with a enjoyably laid back and musical couple of tunes, highlighted by a John Mayer guitar solo which came at the end of the last song.

Here’s hoping they kick it up a gear next week.  SNL is always the most fun to watch right before an election, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

EDIT: Yeah that puppet sketch was really funny.

When I really think about it, I’d say Woody Allen has had one hell of a major impact on my life. His films, books, one-liners, even his personal style, I’ve assimilated it all into my gestalt like some borsht-y Borg. From my thick black rimmed glasses down to the soles of my saddle shoes, I’m a dyed in the wool fan. Still, being a New York City, Jewish neurotic, born into a perpetual state of metaphysical malaise, well, how could I not be?  That being said, you can imagine how much I was looking forward to watching the American Masters special, ‘Woody Allen: A Documentary’ and right off the bat, I can say with no small measure of conviction that documentarian Robert Wade’s attempt at providing fresh insight into the life and work of the diminutive, carrot-topped genius, generally does not disappoint.

Split up into two parts – the earlier ‘funnier’ years and the Soon-Yi-er era – I personally found the second half far more captivating. Sunday night’s intro was pleasant enough, dishing up a competent summary of his ascension from gag writer to lauded stand-up comic, as well as his eventual –and miraculously seamless – transition into filmmaking.  Still, having read Eric Lax’s excellent biography on Allen, there wasn’t too much I already didn’t know about this phase of Woody’s career.

Don’t get me wrong, there were a few tidbits scattered amidst the general table setting which were quite compelling, particularly Diane Keaton’s reminiscences of her former lover/movie partner. Additionally, the sections in which Wade captures Allen on camera touring his old neighborhood, discussing his legendary existential angst and showing off his old-school editing process, are all entertaining as well – if not all that revealing. Thing is, even when Woody is talking directly about himself, his tone is so detached, he may as well be reading the phone book. Listening to Allen describe in that slightly bored delivery of his, the ease in which his ambitions unfurled before him from the word go, sort of got under my skin. This is a man who’s never had to struggle for much of anything in his life and yet every other utterance of his is patinated in fatigued discontent.

It became tiresome after a while.

Aside from these brief snippets, there’s a lot of discussion about his first forays into film. I found these sections a tad eye-glazing, after all,  how much more can really be said about – ‘Take the Money and Run’, ‘Bananas’, ‘Sleeper’, ‘Love and Death’, ‘Annie Hall’ and ‘Manhattan’? I mean, these movies are marble pillars in the pantheon of cinematic greatness. There’s really no new analytical perch to pontificate from when it comes to these pristine efforts.

The first episode concludes with ‘Stardust Memories’ which at the time was widely considered to be a misstep after the huge success of ‘Manhattan’.  Most people believed the film was a mean spirited Fellini rip-off and after years of being a critical darling who could do no wrong, Woody was genuinely taken to task for the negative way he depicted his fans. I’ve actually always enjoyed that film a lot. It’s a bit uneven, and his obvious disdain for his audience is a drag, but there are some great moments.

The second half of the documentary reviewed his later work, but did not dawdle too long over any film in particular. This gave it a welcomed zippier feel and left more room to concentrate on other aspects of Allen’s life, specifically his working relationship with Mia Farrow and their ultimately messy break up, as well as some interesting insights into the way he directs his actors.

Watching the two episodes back to back, it’s hard not to compare the Keaton years with the Farrow years. In the end, I feel they’re both pretty evenly matched. I will say though, that I very much prefer Keaton as a cinematic presence, as I oftentimes  find Farrow grating and mealy-mouthed and generally believe her to be the weak link in many of his films. Still, the writing in the Farrow period is so strong it surmounts her shortcomings as an actress. At the end of the day, if you were to take the two movies that best represent those two eras – ‘Annie Hall’ and ‘Hannah and her Sisters’ – and put them head to head in an ultimate death match, who would win?

It’s just too close to call.

The most revealing moments of the documentary came during the segments focussing on the sturm and drang of the Soon-Yi debacle and their subsequent life together. It’s plain to see that the years spent with his purloined princess have changed his perspective, cinematically and otherwise. The sexiness of ‘Match Point’ and whimsy of ‘Midnight in Paris’ seem to directly reflect on the nature of their relationship. His abject neuroticism has faded to near non-existence, and has been replaced with a slicker, younger, more carnal sensibility. It’s amazing to think that at this point in his career, the bespectacled legend’s become more relevant than ever before – at least in the commercial sense.

As one of those Woody Allen geeks, who obsessively quote his films whilst mimic-ing his comic stammer, I must profess to feeling a bit bummed out by that reality. Then again, I still cling to my neuroses like a rhesus monkey.

Ultimately, Wade paints a likable portrait of a comic icon. Edges are softened, indiscretions Photoshop-ed, and after watching it all, this man who has had such an influence on my life and millions of others seemed more remote than ever before. I suppose it’s always somewhat of an exercise in futility to try and get at the core of an artist like Allen. The best thing to do is rent one of his movies and enjoy – I recommend the ‘early funny’ ones.

With the release of his first full-length solo record, Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds, former Oasis guitarist Noel Gallagher breaks a two-year silence and, in doing so, finally joins his brother Liam in the post-Oasis sweepstakes. Liam, of course, lobbed the first grenade with his band Beady Eye and, while that album was not without its charm, many (myself included) felt the band and the album wore their influences a tad too obviously.

Of course, Noel is no stranger to penning tunes that owe an obvious debt to “the classics” – the Beatles, for starters – so perhaps its a bit much to expect Noel to shun all imitation now.

Album opener “Everyone’s On The Run” sounds like the sort of Oasis b-side that a sold-out Wembley Stadium crowd knows all the words to, its grandeur tastefully heightened by a sweeping string section. Heck, I can see the video in my mind’s eye, Noel at the mic, singing to the back row as a fan unfurls a large banner that reads “Liam Who?!”

“Dream On” follows, sounding very much like the song Chris Martin has been trying to write all his life. Noel’s love for Coldplay’s “Yellow” notwithstanding, this track proves quite succinctly that Noel’s talents far out-kick Martin & Co. when so inclined.

Let’s face it, unless he’s been quietly blowing through his cash since splitting Oasis, Noel’s got enough money to never need to make another album. He’s sold millions, played to millions, seen his name in lights, and those of us who’ve never experienced such things respectfully wonder what’s really left to prove? Of course, that hasn’t stopped many a rock legend from making a crap album anyway.

“If I Had A Gun” defies its own title in exploring Noel’s wistful, sentimental side. It’s the sort of song the hooligans would’ve hated, but the girls would have loved and, at the end of the day, it’s the girls who really matter. After all, hooligans don’t buy records, they steal ‘em.

Thus far, stylistically speaking, the album hasn’t strayed too far from the Oasis formula, which is just fine by me. One surmises that if Noel had gone out trying to sound like anything but Oasis, most of his fan base would have chucked the album out the window by now. Therein lies the rub for a guy like Noel. Maybe he really wants to make a country album. Or maybe his heart lies in the burgeoning Icelandic folk metal scene. Sadly, because he’s known the world over as the guitarist/songwriter/sometimes-singer in Oasis, he’s forever tethered to that soulful mid-tempo rock sound for which Oasis is known. Of course, nobody said he couldn’t throw the occasional wrench into the spokes. “The Death Of You And Me” is that wrench – for this album at least – wherein Noel seems perfectly content to not be himself today. The result is a jaunty, folk-tinged ditty that soars on gossamer wings, highlighted by finger-picked guitars, horns, and tasty falsetto flourishes from Noel himself.

What’s most admirable about Noel circa 2011 is that he knows damn well the world has changed, that only the remnants of a once-thriving music industry remain, and that now is without a doubt the worst time ever to be “starting from scratch”. You couldn’t blame the guy for choosing to now look back in anger, but, on “(I Wanna Live In A Dream In My) Record Machine” , he chooses to relive those heady days when the turntable was a universe unto itself.

“What A Life” begins with a propulsive drum/piano groove upon which Gallagher builds a slyly hypnotic vocal melody that you’ll find yourself singing later, trust me. This is the sort of song lesser artists have built an entire career upon, whereas dear Noel’s tossing off winners left and right. It wasn’t until I heard this song that I realized that Noel’s about halfway through the most ambitious record of his life.

While tracks like “Soldier Boys And Jesus Freaks” and “(Stranded On) The Wrong Beach” rock convincingly, it’s when Noel indulges his knack for elegiac mid-tempo ballads like “Stop The Clocks” that he’s impossible to ignore.

“A Simple Game Of Genius” rocks a little harder, but is a grand gem nonetheless, even if Noel can’t help himself by slipping “kaleidoscope eyes” into the chorus.

The album closes with “The Good Rebel”, a rousing rocker recorded loosely and with an obvious devil-may-care swagger. Close your eyes and you can see the credits roll on a mind movie you can’t wait to watch again. Just hit “REPEAT” and away you go.

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Darren Robbins is a fellow graduate of the “Almost Famous” University, a gifted songwriter, raconteur and lovable curmudgeon.  When you’re not reading him here, check out his outstanding blog… FUDGEKNUCKLE…check out his new STORE as well.

Ok, right off the bat, I’ve got to admit, I’ve got an extremely low tolerance for all things twee. Bands like Pomplamoose and ‘it’ actors like Zooey Deschanel literally give me hives! Ok, well maybe not literally, but they do make me want to fart into a Dixie cup. That being said, I can’t help but enjoy Jenny Slate’s ‘Marcel The Shell’ – despite its innate cutesiness.

For those who consider themselves fans of the diminutive creature, a new ‘Marcel’ video has just hit the internets and it’s typically amusing.

I think the reason why I give Slate’s creation a ‘cutesy pass’ is because of its genuine commitment to the character. It’s hard to come up with something new, and a talking one eyed shell certainly qualifies as new.

In the latest effort, the hipster comic tosses off one-liners like, ‘Guess what I want, but I’m not gonna beg for it…a nickname.’ I can just see that ‘Guess what…’ catchphrase taking off and eventually becoming impossibly irritating, but for now it’s still damned clever.

That’s the bones of the concept I think…its cleverness. Slate is obviously one sharp cookie, and she draws you into Marcel’s world with the deftness of a seasoned children’s author. It’s no surprise that Marcel has been turned into a book.

Her imagery is legitimately whimsical, and she’s come up with a great voice for the creepy critter.

So, is Jenny Slate’s brainchild irritatingly twee or a work of relative genius? I suppose it’s somewhere in between. Either way, I don’t break out while watching it, or want to fumigate a Dixie cup with my flatulence.

SPOILER ALERT!!

Seems like Chuck Lorre doesn’t know when to stop beating a dead horse. After watching tonight’s episode of Two and a Half Men, which was even more criminally devoid of humor than usual, I can officially pronounce the show EQUUS MORTIS!

After suffering through this season’s turgid efforts, this evening’s clichéd fumble took the cake in terms of sheer morbidity. The second portion of a two-parter involving Alan’s mental collapse brought on by a delayed reaction of grief to his brother’s death, one might have thought that the plotline could have served as a poignant summation of Lorre’s feelings towards the death of his relationship with the troubled Sheen.

Not a chance…

Instead it was merely a cheap sequence of horrible circumstances smacking Alan upside the head, ultimately culminating in his death…yeah…I wish. In point of fact, it was all just a predictable dream sequence, and the show will inexplicably go on.

This of course poses the question…why? Why must this show go on?

If memory serves correctly, the whole crux of Two and a Half Men was a middle-aged playboy’s fear of growing up and his contentious relationship with his mooch of a brother and nightmare mater. Within that context, the character of the nebbish-y brother works perfectly. Sure he was annoying, but he was his brother after all – the audience was aware they loved each other. Aside from this basic construct, bottom line was…it was all about Sheen. The guy was just eminently watchable, with an unshakeable comedic timing. He WAS the show.

And now? It’s some lumbering Frankenstein-ian disaster about a rich guy named Walden, who takes Alan into his home out of the kindness of his heart, and mopes around because he misses his ex-wife.

In what universe is this any sort of viable ‘reimagining’? C’mon CHAIM Lorre…admit, you fucked up. It’s a complete turd. Kutcher’s goofy mugging is every bit as intolerable as it was on ‘That 70s Show’, John Cryer just seems adrift at sea and the kid has gone from lovably slow-witted to soulless and icy.

Watching tonight reminded me of the Monty Python ‘Dead Parrot’ skit….this show has ceased to be, it’s an EX-SHOW!

It’s like when Valerie Harper left the show Valerie…if Valerie ain’t in Valerie, then how is it Valerie?

The least they could have done is modify the title and call it ‘One man, one teen and a really hot dude with a big friggin’ cock!’ I mean, every punchline either refers to Walden’s supposed beauty or the weighty heft of his ginormous shlong anyway. Jeebus, what a yuk-fest..or rather…YUCK-fest.