Hovering

My main man, Mark (Fountain of Youth) Cutler posted a vid of himself doing the virgin skydiving thang on his MySpace page yesterday, and while the vid is cool enough (smushed-face,wild-eyes,hair akimbo)the song snippet, "Hovering", a demo that accompanies it, stayed in my head all day and deep into my nighttime dreams, a mid-period Stones throwback with a wistful, aching tone and some simple but evocative imagery, it is also a neat companion piece to one of my fave Raindogs songs, "Up in the Air". (Hey Mark, one question: Is that urban myth about pants pissing before the shute infolds true or false?)

Do You Feel Lucky?

The first movie featuring Inspector Harry Callahan of the San Francisco Police Force, 1971’s eponymously titled Dirty Harry, was at once a box office home run, a polarizing and much debated product of its time, and a thoroughly unexpected jumpstart to a franchise of an iconic cinematic character. What is often overlooked is that its sure-handed direction was deftly executed by cagey vet Don Siegal, a less-is-more type whose ability to convey kinetic on-screen action marks him as the sort of unfettered stylist that once flourished in the Hollywood studio system. The original Dirty Harry remains a 70’s classic and the best of the bunch (with one of the all time cool daddy villanous turns from the unforgettable Andy Robinson), while the follow-ups vary in both tone and quality, ranging from 1973’s Magnum Force (a tight, no excess follow-up), 1976’s The Enforcer (virtually a TV-movie-of-the-week), 1983’s Sudden Impact (Dirty Harry goes hardcore, directed by Eastwood himself), and 1988’s The Dead Pool (wickedly close to self-parody). The new set (Dirty Harry: Ultimate Collectors Edition, 1971-88, Warner, $74.92, 530 minutes) puts all the Dirty Harry efforts together and includes a ream of bonus material include documentaries, postcards, production correspondence and even a replica Callahan ID card, more than enough to make even the casual fan’s day.

RIP Gerge Carlin 1937-2008

The acknowledged King of Comedy (in most circles anyway) is Lenny Bruce, with Richard Pryor an arguable second. George Carlin should also be classified in the same rarified air, and the cold hard fact is that most baby boomers saw and heard a lot more of the forever-feisty Carlin than the gloom and doomed Bruce. Carlin, like most of his audience, transitioned from hipster to hippie right in front of our eyes, from Ed Sullivan to Saturday Night Live, from comic LPs to HBO specials. Carlin shaped himself into a blue-collar philosopher, a workingman’s thinker, and his brand of comedy was among the first that was drug fueled and informed rather than soaked in alcohol. Carlin’s greatest (and coolest) comedic weapon was his wordplay, and his obvious adoration and puzzlement of and about the everyday American idiom. When on the top of his game (he had an undeniable long term of sustained showbiz excellence), there was nothing quite like his New York City staccato delivery, alternately barking out phrases or enunciating another newfound language absurdity in virtual slow motion, with a comic sensibility that was directly drawn from his Roman Catholic/Irish background, spiced with a solid sprinkle of marijuana logic, a never aging rebel with a cause.

TV EYE:Yet Another Tough Blonde

USA has had some well deserved success with its fleet of character-driven and semi-comic procedurals, Monk, Psych, and Burn Notice, yet the new kid on the block, In Plain Sight (Sunday, 10:00 PM), seems to owe as much to TNT’s two slightly more dramatic entries, The Closer and Saving Grace. Mary McCormick (The West Wing) gets the showcase role already delineated by Kyra Sedgwick and Holly Hunter in the aforementioned cable nuggets—the tougher-than-nails top cop who is as bad at real life as she is good at her cop job. Set in pleasingly photogenic New Mexico with the fetching but tough McCormick as a US marshal with the witness protection program surrounded by an eyebrow-arching partner (Frederick Weller), a simpering, tongue-tied boss (Paul Ben-Victor), a sensitive to-die-for Latino boyfriend (Cristian de la Fuente) a preening drama queen sister (Nichole Hiltz), and pickled cougar of a mom (Leslie Ann Warren). The crime-of-the-week in the three shows rolled out so far is well beneath engaging, and the idiosyncratic supporting cast (with the exception of the silky smooth Weller) more irritating than interesting, the end result being more desultory than bright, yet there still remains something better-than-average at its core.

RIP Cyd Charisse 1922-2008

Only under the grand, keen, objectifying spotlights of Hollywood could a little girl born Tula Ellice Finklea in Amarillo, Texas gone on to be the sophisticated, dazzling, and wondrously long-legged Cyd Charisse, among the finest big screen examples of pure class and rapturous beauty. Forget the many television appearances, the theater roles, the occasional dramatic movies, and just watch (or recall) Charisse in exquisite dancing form (alongside Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, or even James Mitchell) in such Hollywood fantasia's as Singing in the Rain (’52), The Band Wagon (’53), Brigadoon (’54), Deep in My Heart (’54) or Silk Stockings (’57), a sight both erotic and dynamic, a moving image as spellbinding as the Dream Factory can produce. As a young moviegoer I didn't like movie musicals or dancing-the-light-fantastic sequences (I was far too wannabe macho) but I did dig Cyd and her elegantly muscled stems. As a middle-aged film buff I truly adore the classic, well-made movie musical, and I worship at the very altar of Ms. Charisse and her innate sexy stylishness.

Making Yer Bones

John Wayne made his bones as a leading man in The Big Trail (1930, Fox, $20.00, 158 minutes) Raoul Walsh’s western epic, a bust-out Hollywood cornfest, yet at the same time one of the great ambitious early westerns. The acting is stilted, just this side of the silent screen, but the stunts and extras employed will tickle yer eyes, as will director Walsh’s big screen vision. For Western buffs, viewing (or buying ) this DVD is a no-brainer, for students of Hollywood, almost as essential. For those drawn into the magic (and mystery) of big screen acting it will be a joy to witness Wayne‘s magical big screen qualities emerging; hidden behind a youthful countenance, a big-boned stance and a transparent swagger, and American icon coiled and ready to burst into cinematic flames.

TV EYE: Schwing

You can smell this one a mile away--Swingtown (CBS, Thursdays, 10:00 PM)is an ill-conceived but noble hybrid, an HBO/Showtime offering doing time on mainstream network television. Set in a suburban Chicago neighborhood in 1976, the show attempts to penetrate into the deeper and darker truths of the malaise ridden “Me Decade”, particularly in the temporary phenomena of open marriages and spouse-swapping. The show is awash in garnished nostalgia, the songs, the drugs, the accoutremonts, but it all somehow comes across as shallow, a surface examination of a titillating piece of post-hippie, pre-yuppie time, Ang Lee’s memorably shaded movie of novelist Rick Moody’s book The Ice Storm remains the pop culture template of the period so far.