Jun072007

Henry Sr. Not Coming Back

Well, rats: Connery won’t be reprising his role as Indy’s dad in Indiana Jones IV after all. Sir Sean issued the disappointing news in a classy statement, at least:

“I get asked the question so often, I thought it best to make an announcement. I thought long and hard about it and if anything could have pulled me out of retirement it would have been an Indiana Jones film. I love working with Steven and George, and it goes without saying that it is an honor to have Harrison as my son. But in the end, retirement is just too damned much fun. I, do however, have one bit of advice for Junior: Demand that the critters be digital, the cliffs be low, and for goodness sake keep that whip by your side at all times in case you need to escape from the stunt coordinator! This is a remarkable cast, and I can only say, ‘Break a leg, everyone.’ I’ll see you on May 22, 2008, at the theater!”

I’m not troubled by the idea of Henry not appearing in this new Indy movie — his character arc was pretty thoroughly finished by the end of Last Crusade — but it now looks definite that the bleeding-from-the-eyes-awful League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is going to be the final title on Connery’s filmography, and that, my friends, is an unbelievable tragedy.
The article I linked above also mentions that Cate Blanchett, Ray Winstone, and John Hurt are in the movie — this is seconded on the official Lucasfilm Indy site here — and that rumors that Karen Allen, Kate Capshaw, or both might be on board for a cameo remain unconfirmed one way or the other. (Personally, I’m rooting for at least a glimpse of Allen’s Marion, the most logical “Indy girl” for our hero to have had a son with… assuming that Shia LaBouef is actually playing Henry Jones III, that is.)

In other Indy IV news, I’ve heard that John Rhys-Davies, a.k.a. Indy’s favorite Egyptian digger and loyal sidekick Sallah, won’t be coming back either, but depending on what Indy IV is actually about, his character might not fit into this particular story or setting, so I’m okay with his absence…

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Jun062007

Beware of Pterodactyls

Two of my favorite stories in my younger days were Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth and Edgar Rice Burroughs’ At the Earth’s Core. (Notice I said stories, because, as it happened, I first knew these tales through their movie incarnations, and only came to the original novels later on, with a detour through the Classic Comics versions in between.) Both works stem from the premise that our planet is hollow, or at least contains vast subterranean open spaces, and that there is life, usually some weird mishmash of prehistoric beasts and highly advanced civilizations, in this interior realm.
It’s actually a pretty common idea within a certain subset of fantasy-adventure pulp fiction. But just recently I’ve learned that there are apparently people out there who think it’s more than just a good idea for a story. Some people really think the Hollow Earth theory is possible… and one guy aims to prove it:

Continue Reading…

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Jun062007

Suspects of Interest

So, a question occurred to me this morning as I was watching the news: when did the media stop calling people who are suspected of a crime “suspects” and start calling them “persons of interest”? Is it some kind of political correctness thing? Or maybe it’s the result of some nervous nelly in the legal department who’s afraid they might get sued if somebody feels insulted by being called a suspect? But isn’t that what a person of interest is? Why else would they be “of interest” if they weren’t suspected of being involved?

Continue Reading…

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Jun052007

TV Title Sequences I Like: Jonny Quest

I don’t know if anyone else is enjoying this TV Title Sequence thing I’ve been doing, but I am sure am having fun hunting down this stuff, some of which I haven’t seen or thought about in years. Today’s selection is from one of my Saturday-morning faves when I was a kid, a 1960s-vintage cartoon that continued running (I believe) well into the 1980s: Jonny Quest. If you don’t recall the show, Jonny Quest was just about the perfect series ever created for ten-year-old boys (and a whole lot of girls!). It followed the adventures of the titular character, who is, not surprisingly, about ten or twelve years old, as he travels the world with his father, globally renowned scientist and inventor, Dr. Benton Quest. Along for the ride are Jonny’s friend Hadji (who can be read through a modern lens as an unfortunate stereotype, but in simpler, less-uptight times would’ve been just a damn cool kid to have as a buddy, what with his snake-charming powers and such), the obligatory yappy-dog Bandit for comic relief (which, admittedly, was never terribly funny, even when I was ten), and Dr. Quest’s assistant, driver, bodyguard, sidekick, and regular right-hand man, Race Bannon. (Modern-day po-mo ironists take note of the fact that there are no women in the series and speculate about the true nature of Race and Benton’s relationship, if you get my meaning. I suppose it’s possible they were lovers; I prefer to see them as brothers-in-arms who, in the words of Indiana Jones’ sidekick Short Round, have “no time for love.” The show is, after all, a ten-year-old boy’s vision of the world, as yet uncorrupted by such grown-up things as sexual chemistry.)

The title sequence for the show plays as a montage of greatest hits from previous episodes:

Yeah, that’s great stuff with the jazzy, brassy, jangly-guitary, mid-60s-style music and the whole Kennedy-era sense of derring-do and “science will conquer all” attitude. As you can see from the clip, Jonny Quest covered a lot of territory: fantasy (dinosaurs), horror (the mummy episode), high adventure (the jungle stuff), science fiction (the eyeball/spider robot — which always gave me a major case of The Willies — and the assorted ray-guns, lasers, and blasters), spy thriller, and just plain old two-fisted, rifle-shooting, manly-man action. I know there have been a couple of attempts to revive and update the show — one particularly oddball version in the mid-90s featured Jonny entering a CG virtual reality in every episode, as I recall — but none of them came close to the innocent, pulp-fiction fun of the original. This is one of the very few kiddie cartoons that I’d like to have on DVD…

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Jun042007

The Precious Juice…

Their world crumbled; the cities exploded. A whirlwind of looting; a firestorm of fear. Men began to feed on men. On the roads, it was a white-line nightmare. Only those mobile enough to scavenge, brutal enough to pillage would survive. The gangs took over the highways, ready to wage war for a tank of juice…

–Voiceover prologue, The Road Warrior

Customer Forced at Gunpoint to Pump Gas into Suspect’s Vehicle

–Headline from this morning’s Salt Lake Tribune

You know how I’m always complaining that things aren’t turning out like the movies I liked when I was a kid? Maybe I ought to be more specific about which movies I’m talking about…

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Jun042007

Melvin’s Latest Setbacks

There were a couple of developments last week in the ongoing saga of Melvin Dummar, the Utah native who claims to have done a good deed for gazillionaire Howard Hughes back in the ’60s and has spent the last four decades getting hosed because of it. Neither event was especially good news for poor old Mel.

Continue Reading…

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Jun042007

Synchronicity

Hm. This is curious… as John Scalzi reminds us, Saturday was the 40th anniversary of the U.S. release of The Beatles’ album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

This was also the day when I decided to renounce Beatledom.

You just know there’s got to be some kind of grand karmic consequences for something like that. It’s like spitting in a church or something…

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Jun032007

Wherein I Commit Musical Blasphemy

I realized something on Saturday afternoon as I was waxing my car and listening to the radio: “I Am the Walrus” is quite possibly the most aggravating song ever recorded. Yes, even more so than Britney Spears’ “Toxic.” The nonsensical, deliberately inscrutable lyrics, delivered by John Lennon in a voice that is simultaneously high-pitched, yet whiskey-raspy (two qualities which, combined, suggest to me the way Mickey Mouse might sound if he’d just smoked several bowls of particularly harsh ganja), and set to a plodding, mechanical beat… well, let’s just say that the overall effect of the song is to set my teeth on a razor-thin edge.

In fact, when I’m really honest with myself, I have to admit that I really don’t like The Beatles that much at all. Oh, I can’t deny that they were historically significant, or that they influenced countless bands that followed, or that they did a handful of songs that only a completely joyless churl could criticize — “Yesterday,” “Norweigian Wood,” and “Here Comes the Sun” are genuinely wonderful — but, generally speaking, they just don’t do much for me. I can’t recall the last time I landed on one of their songs on the radio and happily stayed there without surfing on in search of something I preferred.

And as long as I’m revealing the depths of my philistinism, what the heck is the big deal about U2? Yeah, “Where the Streets Have No Name” is a great song, but why do so many people seem to think listening to this band is akin to communing with Buddha himself? I just don’t get it…

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