Fragment: Minute-by-minute at the 2008 Emmys Ceremony

For the sake of posterity, or something, here is the fragment of my Emmys recap that survived Blogger's massive fuck-up last night.

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Hello and welcome to the most irrelevant and untimely "liveblogging" of any event ever! Or, as Richard Marcej suggests I call this recap of an event three days past, "TiVoblogging." Enjoy.

7:00 -- The show begins with a taped bit in which contemporary TV stars recite classic TV catchphrases. It's dreadful (except possibly for the bit with the two Baldwins -- Alec: "Mom always did like you best." William: "She also liked Daniel and Stephen better than you"). I open my first beer, despite the fact that I'm actually on lunch break from work right now. Hey, some traditions you don't fuck with.

Also, I realize my DVR, which is not technically a TiVo, doesn't have a timestamp on recordings like TiVo does, so I can't go strictly minute-by-minute as I prefer to do. Aside from noting the show's 7:00 start time, all my other gems will simply be bullet points. Sad.

--Oprah Winfrey opens the live ceremony. Her forehead is nearly as huge as her cleavage. She is tremendously aristocratic in her delivery, as well as self-congratulatory, both specifically of her own program (and its ability to influence book sales) and of TV in general. Why do people like her?

--She introduces the five (!) hosts for the evening, the five nominees for Outstanding Host for Reality or Reality Competition Programming: Tom Bergeron, Heidi Klum, Howie Mandel, Jeff Probst, and Ryan Seacrest. Ugh.

--Seacrest is instant death. Mandel, ad-libbing on the significance of the Emmys' nod to reality programming, is even worse, and Probst is visibly, amusingly, genuinely upset with him for interrupting. All the hosts wear matching suits and ties, even Klum (who is stunning), who towers above all four men. Only Probst is tieless, oddly.

--While Probst, Mandel, and Seacrest all try to hog the spotlight, talking over one another in obnoxious fashion, Bergeron and Klum appear to be equally mortified. They even appear to share a moment: just as the camera cuts away from the five-shot, I see Bergeron leaning in toward Klum, possibly to say, "Can you believe these pricks?" I imagine Klum might respond: "I am maybe the most attractive woman on the planet -- top five, easy. My beauty elevates me above this. There is no reason I should have to tolerate these hammy turds."

--They riff for an infinity on how they have nothing written. Bergeron now appears openly hostile, which is possibly an act, possibly not. The three hams finally exit, leaving Bergeron and Klum on damage control.

--William Shatner gets called up from the audience in one of the weirdest, most awkward staged bits ever: Bergeron and Shatner yank off Klum's suit, revealing a sparkly hot pants number underneath. I mean, I'm all for more skin from Heidi Klum, but this is creeping me out. Every single second of this ceremony thus far has been agonizingly awful.

--Tina Fey and Amy Poehler! Thank fucking god.

--Fey to a very pregnant Poehler: "When are you due?" Poehler: "How dare you! I've gained weight for a role."

--Supporting Actor in a Comedy goes to Jeremy Piven, again. Three in a row, Emmys? I mean, I like him, but come on. At least Rainn Wilson and Neil Patrick Harris were nominated; perhaps next year, when people begin realizing how done Entourage is, one of them will get the win they deserve.

--Piven rips on the hosts: "What if I just kept talking, for 12 minutes? That was the opening."

--Beer #2. Hey, at least I'm off work now.

--Bergeron and Seacrest are sitting in a replica of Seinfeld's cafe set. Perhaps they think if they pretend to be part of a great show, we will stop noticing how bad this show is. They are wrong.

--I still stand by my assertion that Julia Louis-Dreyfus is getting more lovely as she ages. Too bad the patter written for her here is so terrible. She presents Supporting Actress in a Comedy to Jean Smart, for Designing Women. Well, at least I imagine that's why she won, because it can't be for her weak-ass role on Samantha Who.

--Smart, on Samantha Who: "The most amazing, brilliant, hilarious cast in the world." Hyperbole at the Emmys? Never!

--People Smart thanks before her family: Christina Applegate, the cast, the producers, the writers, the executives at ABC, her show's cushy timeslot, her agency, her agent, her publicity firm, her publicist.

--After a brief moment of silence, Probst interrupts Klum just as she begins to speak to tell her it's her turn to speak. Klum, cuttingly: "Yeah, thanks."

--They introduce the cast of Desperate Housewives who appear on a Housewives set. Dana Delany -- man, she is still smokin' hot. Jeez, something happened to Marcia Clark, though. Yikes.

--Supporting Actor in a Drama goes to Ted Danson. I wrote that before they announced the winner. Looks like I was wrong. Zeljko Ivanek, Danson's castmate on Damages, actually wins, and gets the dubious honor of hearing his name massacred by Delany. I'm amazed he's never even been nominated before; he's very good. Too bad he won't be in the next season.

--Ricky Gervais! Man, he is so effortlessly charming and funny, it makes the reality show hosts look even more humor-free and inept, if that's possible.

--Speaking of his Emmy win in 2007: "The press called it a major upset. Which means they thought I shouldn't have won." This precedes a very funny routine in which he tries to get Steve Carell, who had accepted the award for him, to give it back. Carell eventually pulls an Emmy out from under his seat and reluctantly surrenders it. Awesome.

--Directing for a Variety, Music or Comedy Program goes to the guy who directed the Oscars, which it seems like always happens. Yawn. I didn't do my picks this year, so there's really no reason to go through every single award, keeping track of my record, is there?

--Conan O'Brien appears, weirdly, on a set for The Simpsons, rather than his own program. I mean, he appeared in an episode, and of course started out as a writer for the show, but it still seems kind of like a slight to Late Night, which he's been doing for 15 damn years already.

--Supporting Actress in a Drama goes to Dianne Wiest, for a show nobody I know has ever watched. At least she's not present, so we're spared one speech.

--The clips for the nominees for Writing for a Variety, Music or Comedy Program are always among the funniest bits at the Emmys, since they are created by the writers of the nominated programs. The Colbert Report writers are depicted enjoying a Christmas party, with Colbert as the shotgun-wielding, boxers-clad hillbilly who chases them out of his cabin. The Daily Show group uses clips of bozos in the audiences of the two big political conventions to represent themselves. The Late Night writers are children adopted by Angelina Jolie and Conan O'Brien. Dr. Phil diagnoses the Late Show staff: "Jeremy Weiner: enabler. Joe Grossman: delusional. Bill Sheft: messed up." And of course, David Letterman: "miserable old psychopathic wack-job." And the SNL writers use Wii Miis, which is pretty lame. The Colbert Report wins, which is sweet.

--Mandel is back. Ugh. He and Probst introduce the accountants, which is death. Steve Martin follows, which is quite a jarring contrast.

--Speaking of The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour, Martin calls it "perspicacious, multifarious, and only sometimes placatory. And believe me, I only use those words to see how closed captioning will spell them." My closed captioning doesn't even attempt perspicacious, but the other two come out as "multifair yus" and "placetory."

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And that's it! Approximately two-and-a-half, three hours of Emmys watching and recapping after that: gone, baby, gone. Oh well, at least 30 Rock won a ton of Emmys. Although even that didn't stop Tina Fey from desperately imploring the audience to tune in. And the sad thing is, they mostly still won't watch the funniest comedy on TV. Stupid audience!

TV: Minute-by-Minute at the 2005 Golden Globes

Part 1 -- the Pre-Show.

8:00 -- The Golden Globes impress me with their class and dignity right off the bat by having a Ray Charles imitator sing a horrifically sleazy opening jingle with lines such as, "Dirty Harry could win three today!" or "And Uma simply kills in Bill!" Ugh.

8:03 -- Clive Owen wins Best Supporting Actor in a Motion Picture for Closer, beating David Carradine, Thomas Haden Church, Jamie Foxx, and Morgan Freeman. I can honestly say, if I had tried to guess this category, Owen would've been my fifth choice. If that. Very surprising.

8:06 -- Following that, I'm not quite as surprised when Natalie Portman wins for Closer (or, as Tim Robbins mispronounces it when presenting, Closer. Uh... you'll just have to trust me that he mispronounced it, I guess).

8:11 -- Jennifer Garner and Mark Wahlberg present Best Supporting Actress for a TV Series, Mini-Series, or TV Movie, and it took me so long to write down the name of the award, I completely missed who won it. (Okay, it was Anjelica Huston. For something called Iron-Jawed Angels.)

8:13 -- We follow this up with Best Supporting Actor in Etc. It's so freakin' weird, seeing Sean Hayes and Michael Imperioli nominated in the same category. I'm sorry, but Will & Grace and The Sopranos do not even exist in the same universe.

8:14 -- The Shat wins! The Shat wins! When he gets the award, he says, "William Shatner!" the way his character says "Denny Crane!" and that has just made the show for me.

8:21 -- Jim Carrey doesn't have much of a chance to cut loose as he introduces the President of the Hollywood Foreign Press, and reminds us that this is all a bizarre sham of an imitation of an awards ceremony, whose inexplicably odd awards categories (Best Musical or Comedy??) and shady nomination process is overseen by a remarkably small pool of otherwise completely irrelevant journalists, whose history is rife with bribery and corruption, which has only become so prominent on American TV because Dick Clark somehow profits from it, which only attracts so many big stars because of the open bar and huge after-parties, and which really has no logical reason to exist.

8:25 -- Hey, Claire Danes is going to be in Shopgirl! Hey, they're actually making a movie of Shopgirl! Cool.

8:26 -- Best Actress, TV Series - Drama, goes to Mariska Hargitay of Law & Order: Sports Utility Vehicle. Really? Out of the plethora of actresses on television, this is your choice? Really? What, was Pia Zadora not nominated?

8:30 -- Ian McShane wins Best Actor, TV Series - Drama, for Deadwood. Man, I gotta get HBO. Too bad Chiklis lost, but I hear Deadwood is just an amazing show.

8:37 -- Meryl Streep comes out to present, and cattily says, "Congratulations, Natalie" (Portman, who beat her for an award earlier). Funny. Also, in that bodice, Meryl is rockin' some Golden Globes herself! (I promise this is the first and last time I will make this joke. Unless Angelina Jolie is here tonight.)

8:40 -- When Jason Bateman and Zach Braff are announced as nominees for Best Actor, TV Series - Musical or Comedy, I start thinking, "Well, at least the Golden Globes are smarter than the Emmys about this category," and then I hear, "Matt LeBlanc, Joey." Spoke too soon!

8:41 -- Bateman very deservingly wins, and hopefully the Emmys will take notice of this (though I'm not counting on it).

8:50 -- Will Ferrell, wearing an eyepatch: "Rest assured, the boating accident was not as bad as it was reported." King of Comedy.

8:54 -- Annette Bening accepts her award for Best Actress, Movie - Musical or Comedy, in a strangely aristocratic, entitled fashion. Totally calm and unsurprised, as if she knew all along she deserved it, and the reading of the winner was just a formality. It makes me want to smack her, a little bit.

8:55 -- I made a promise earlier, when talking about Meryl Streep, but the dress Melina Kanakaredes is wearing makes it extremely difficult to keep that promise.

8:56 -- The first nominee for Best TV Series - Drama is 24. Apparently, the Globes are unaware of its reclassification as a Comedy as of last year.

8:57 -- They show Evangeline Lilly in the audience when the nomination for Lost is announced. Holy mother of pearl, she is as lovely as the day is long. Too bad she's so damn religious -- she was a missionary, even. That takes a little bit of the air out of my wicked fantasies.

9:13 -- We see Quentin Tarantino getting all close and cuddly with Uma Thurman. Are they officially a couple now? Can I officially be creeped out?

9:20 -- On the other hand, when they show QT talking with Martin Scorsese, that's somehow exciting to me. Two great filmmakers, people who probably never talk outside events like these, sharing thoughts on the movies. Just the idea is strangely thrilling.

9:24 -- The clip for nominee for Best Movie - Drama Closer shows Natalie Portman mouthing the words, "Fuck off." Cut to her in the audience, where she gleefully repeats "Fuck off!" and laughs giddily. So adorable. Too bad they didn't have the sound up at her table; we could've had another Bono incident.

9:25 -- Scarlett Johansson continues to be smokin' hot. That is all.

9:38 -- As Teri Hatcher hugs everyone at her table after winning Best Actress, TV Series - Comedy, Zach Braff, standing at the table behind her, jokingly holds his arms out for a hug, too. (He doesn't get one.)

9:39 -- Hatcher thanks "a network for giving me a second chance at a career when I couldn't have been a bigger has-been." It's funny, but it's also disarmingly frank and touching.

9:46 -- It blows me away that Clint Eastwood is nominated as composer for Million Dollar Baby. Now that I think of it, it really was excellent music -- carried the emotions of the scenes, but non-intrusively. Clint really is the man. Too bad he can be such a douchebag, politically speaking.

9:52 -- Mick Jagger gets the biggest laugh of the evening so far, accepting for Best Song, when he thanks everyone "who's working at Paramount... and everyone that was working at Paramount." Very in-jokey for us at home, but the live audience sure eats it up. He gets another huge laugh when he interrupts Dave Stewart who is thanking his and Mick's children: "All our children, there's so many we're not even gonna mention it!"

9:57 -- Prince is about a minute and a half into his introduction of Best Movie - Drama nominee Ray before the ovation dies down enough to hear him. People love that little purple dude!

10:00 -- Clint Eastwood wins (most deservingly, in my eyes) Best Director, Motion Picture, for Million Dollar Baby. After a huge standing ovation, he cracks everyone up with an ironically understated, "Well, thanks." He's the man.

10:03 -- Reading the nominees for Best Actor, Movie - Musical or Comedy, Diane Keaton screams Paul Giamatti's name with such unexpected, disturbing passion, I have to pause the TiVo and go take a nap.

10:04 -- Jamie Foxx wins for Ray. The tattoo on the back of his shaved head makes him look like he's replaced Vin Diesel in the sequel to XXX. (Actually, it's Ice Cube who's done that. No, seriously.)

10:05 -- Foxx is so insanely charismatic, and natural, and funny, and even heartbreaking accepting the award, he should win an award for best acceptance of an award. This makes me want to see Ray all the more. Way to upsell, Golden Globes!

10:22 -- With a series of movie clips from some really great movies -- The Fisher King, Good Morning, Vietnam, Dead Poets Society, Insomnia, Good Will Hunting, Aladdin (strangely, they leave out Hamlet and Baron Munchausen, but include Jumanji and Bicentennial Man) -- a great deal of goodwill is built up for Robin Williams, who is accepting the Cecil B. DeMille award. Then he does that sign language thing he does, and it's all gone in a shot. I would like Robin Williams so much more, if he didn't insist on being so Robin Williams-y all the time.

10:22 -- But then he takes a shot at Pia Zadora, and all is forgiven.

10:27 -- I love how half the crowd is laughing during his speech, and then the other half -- people like Johnny Depp -- have this frozen, disbelieving smile on their faces, like, "People really think this shit is funny?"

10:34 -- When Leonardo DiCaprio wins Best Actor, Movie - Drama, strangely enough I'm not looking at him so much as at presenter Charlize Theron. When they show her in profile -- damn, girlfriend's got some junk in her trunk!

10:40 -- I think it's unfair they showed scenes from all the nominees for Best TV Series - Drama, but for Comedy, they just show the titles. Gyp!

10:41 -- Desperate Housewives wins. It's a comedy? Adultery, drug abuse, kidnapping, suicide, murder -- comedy? Oh, okay. It's a comedy the same way 24 is a drama. Ah, what do I care, it just means I get to see all the housewives onstage again. Yowza.

10:47 -- Hilary Swank is still with that little weasel Chad Lowe? Not that I am jealous. It's just that most Hollywood marriages, when one partner becomes so very, very much more successful than the other, the marriage doesn't survive. Good for them. (Weasel.) Oh yeah -- good job on winning Best Actress, Movie - Drama. Beating out her biggest competition here, Imelda Staunton for Vera Drake, really makes a second Oscar for Swank more and more believable. Guess she wasn't a one-trick pony after all. Not that I thought she was, even before seeing Million Dollar Baby, but that film sealed the deal. Seriously, that film is so ridiculously great, everyone should see it.

10:55 -- Best Movie - Musical or Comedy: Sideways. Damn, I gotta see that movie! That's the one film from last year I most want to see but haven't yet. Paul Giamatti is awesome.

10:59 -- I am absolutely floored when The Aviator beats Million Dollar Baby for Best Movie - Drama. I thought after Clint and Hilary won, it was a shoo-in. (Shoe-in? How do you spell that?) Guess not. Not that I've seen The Aviator, or have any room to judge it, and not to detract from my love of Martin Scorsese's films, but I really hope this doesn't make the Oscar race a foregone conclusion. Million Dollar Baby deserves it.

11:01 -- Only one minute late, Nicole Kidman calls the evening to a close with a simple "Good night." Here's just one area where the Oscars can learn something from the Golden Globes (in addition to creating separate categories for Dramas and Comedies). Want to bring the ceremony to a close in a timely fashion, yet still give every single award-winner an unlimited time for their acceptance speeches? Cut out all those shitty, shitty, shitty musical numbers and alleged "comedy" bits. Just crank out the awards, baby!

My final conclusion for this, the first ever Golden Globes ceremony I've watched from beginning to end? Eh. I admired the streamlined nature of the show, and the loose, fun-filled atmosphere, but I still couldn't muster up a great deal of giving-a-rat's-ass. The Oscars are longer, more humorless, and more full of hot air, but they have that certain something, that air of importance, that makes me care. It's like the fat-free Oscars -- lighter and healthier, but with none of the guilty pleasure that makes it so delicious.

MOVIES FROM HELL: Halloween: Resurrection

A short while ago, I said that as a special Halloween feature, I was going to rewatch some of the worst horror movies I've ever seen. I'm starting off with Halloween: Resurrection, which, technically, I've never seen before. So how did I know, before even watching it, that a seventh generation sequel starring Busta Rhymes would be awful? Lucky guess.

Yes, Resurrection is indeed the eighth entry in the Halloween series, which, unlike the Friday the 13th series, I'm sadly unable to list from memory. I need IMDb's help for that:

First came the landmark John Carpenter original, Halloween, in nineteen-seventy-damn-eight. I was eight when that came out. Wow. Then came the fairly worthy successor, Halloween II in 1981, in which Loomis (Donald Pleasance) was killed. Then came the "what the fuck?" non-sequel Halloween III: Season of the Witch in 1982, which had literally nothing to do with the first two movies. I know! What the fuck? Then, much like a farmer must let his field lay fallow to replenish the soil's nutrients, so was the Halloween franchise allowed to lay dormant for six years. Unfortunately, Farmer Brown planted turds, and up sprouted Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers (1988), in which Loomis got better, but Laurie (Jamie Lee Curtis) was dead, and Halloween 5: The Revenge of Michael Myers (1989), in which various lame stuff happened. 1995 brought Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers, in which Loomis got dead again, as did Donald Pleasance (sad). And then of course came Halloween Water: 20 Years Later (1998), in which all the stuff from the previous three films was ignored, and Laurie got better (but Jamie Lee Curtis' film career died). Wait, what's that? Yeah, Halloween H20. That's what I said.

And then came Resurrection (2002). Oh boy.

Jamie Lee Curtis makes a contractually-obligated appearance right at the top of the movie, which rewrites the ending of the last movie. Laurie's in an insane asylum now. Turns out the guy whose head she chopped off at the end of the last movie wasn't Michael after all. It was just some dude in a mask. Oopsie! "Father of three," one of Laurie's nurses gravely informs her co-worker. Which is what makes it a shame. Father of two, that's fine. Father of three, that's a real bummer.

We now meet Willie, a tubby security guard. Hey, I bet Willie's gonna be around for the next sequel! We follow Willie as he inspects a couple of vending machines packed with various blatant product placements in a scene totally relevant to the plot. Meanwhile, Michael decides his partner's head looks a little damp, so he puts it in the dryer. Willie discovers the noggin on tumble dry low, but before he can add a fabric softener sheet to prevent static cling, Michael ventilates his trachea. WILLIIIIIIIIIEE!!! I totally and completely did not see that coming.

Then Michael chases Laurie onto the roof -- have I mentioned the slow motion yet? This director loves throwing in a few seconds of slow motion in almost every scene. Very annoying. Anyway, on the roof, the stupidest thing ever happens. Laurie has somehow -- and keep in mind, she's an inmate at an insane asylum -- she has somehow rigged up an elaborate, electronically-operated winch system (I assume she rigged it up; why else would there be an electric winch on the roof of an insane asylum?). She's tied a small noose at the end of its rope, about the exact size of a man's foot. And Michael somehow steps directly into it. Because stupid plans require stupid victims! Laurie hoists Michael over the edge of the roof, and plans on cutting the rope and letting him drop to the ground below. Which, I mean -- has she even watched the last seven movies? Michael's fallen off lots of roofs. He's been shot about 8,000 times. He's been blown the fuck up. But Laurie thinks this roof is the clincher! Yeah, smart plan, babe. She deservedly gets stabbed and dropped off the roof for her troubles. Next time, try a bazooka.

Michael then gives his knife to one of the inmates. Because he's always careful to cover his tracks and frame innocent bystanders. Oh, wait, no he's not. He just kills the innocent bystanders, because he's Michael Myers, not a James Bond villain. This movie doesn't make a lick of sense, and we haven't even gotten to the title yet. The inmate, by the way, is a serial killer buff, and as Michael walks away, the inmate reels off Michael's life story from memory. Only he doesn't remember Halloweens 3 through 6. That's okay, buddy. Nobody does.

Cut to Haddonfield University, where a professor can lay down some Jungian bullshit that's supposed to reveal something about Michael's psyche, but is really just there to make everyone involved feel better about being in a dopey slasher flick. We meet Sara, who is broody and smart, so she's going to live; Jen, who is cute and ebullient, so she's dead; and Rudy, who is black and not Busta Rhymes, so you guess what's gonna happen to him. (Yes, I'm calling it right now: Busta will survive.)

And we get into the story of this film, which makes me grit my teeth and feel a white-hot ball of pain and anger behind my eyeballs: they're going to be on a reality show. A REALITY SHOW! Jesus Hieronymus Christ, a reality show. Can you get more played out than that? Answer: no.

Ironic foreshadowing dialogue:

SARA: Every time I let you two talk me into something, I live to regret it.
RUDY: Listen, without me, you would die of boredom.
JEN: Us! Without us, you would die of boredom.

Get it?? It's ironic, because they're talking about Sara dying, when really they are going to die! GET IT??? Eh, whatever.

Then there's some more stupid stuff, then they get to Busta. I want to hate him -- he's a damn rapper, not an actor, not even a horror movie-level actor -- but he's the best part of the film so far. He's in charge of "Dangertainment", the reality show in question... which will be airing on the internet. Because so many people watch internet programming. Man, is it dumb in here, or is it just this movie?

Did I mention Tyra Banks is Busta's assistant? No? Good. I used to like her, but ever since America's Next Top Model began, I just want to smack her.

The reality show will take place inside Michael's childhood home. The participants, all with mini-cameras mounted to their heads, are going to be exploring the mystery of Michael Myers, whatever that means. If Michael Myers weren't actually going to show up, this would be the most boring program ever. "Hey, did you find any of Michael Myers' mystery in the fridge?" "No. Did you find any of Michael Myers' mystery in the broom closet?" "Ummm... no. I found a broom." Who the hell does Busta think would watch this shit? Or, wait: does Busta have a hidden agenda? Hmmmm.... Wait, even if he does, it's an idiotic idea.

So they go into the house, Sara, Rudy, Jen, and three other meat sacks whose names I can't be bothered to learn. One of them is a cute redhead gal, one of them is Kevin from American Pie, and one of them is a jackass. I'm guessing they will be killed in the reverse order I listed them.

Meanwhile, some nerd who's been having an email relationship with Sara is watching the show at a Halloween party -- and all the other non-nerds stop drinking, dancing, and screwing and also start watching the computer monitor. Which is possibly the most unrealistic moment in the entire movie. Hmm, have drunken sex with a cheerleader, or look over a nerd's shoulder at shaky, grainy footage on a computer screen? Computer wins nine times out of ten, of course.

Kevin flirts with Jen, then gets her to flash her bra for the camera. I think that's it for sex in this movie. Stupid damn modern horror movies, with no sex or nudity! I blame Kevin Williamson.

Ooh, Kevin gets killed first! The camera on his head catches it all (and then his head catches a butcher knife), but Busta and Tyra, watching from the control room, fail to see it, as do all the tens of people worldwide who are watching the show on their computers (including nerd-boy).

Ope! Here's a little sex. "Say something smart," says jackass. Cute redhead says, "Existence precedes essence," and takes off her bra. Bless her heart. Then a bunch of skeletons burst through a wall and fall on them. Cock-blocking from beyond the grave!

Turns out Busta and Tyra (that's the new millennium's "Uma and Oprah") have set up a bunch of phony crap around the house to make their show scarier and more interesting. So that's a failure on both counts.

Now comes probably the only cool shot of the film: Michael Myers creeps slowly through the house -- while behind him, Michael Myers creeps slowly after. It's a decently creepy thrill. The first Michael Myers is actually Busta in a mask. He thinks the other Michael is his cameraman -- but we saw the real Michael kill him earlier. The creepy coolness is ruined by idiocy: Busta, thinking it's the cameraman, yells at Michael, telling him to get his ass out of there and go get in position -- and Michael meekly turns and leaves. 8,000 bullets won't stop him, but harsh language will? Criminy.

Hot redhead (yes, I've upgraded her from cute) gets impaled on a spike by Michael. Nerd-boy believes it's real. Other non-nerd non-partiers laugh at him. This is the lamest subplot ever.

Jen and Rudy take bong hits. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Getting high in a horror movie. Seriously, how badly do they want to be killed? Can they be killed twice?

Sara, Rudy, and jackass discover Busta in his Michael mask. He explains he's faking everything, and asks them to play along. Gee, I wonder if the real Michael will show up in a moment, and they won't believe that it's him?

Jen finds Kevin's dead body, and, as her moron friends refuse to help her while she screams, Michael chops her head off with a butcher knife. Right the fuck off! Wow, jackass outlived her. Not for long: Michael crushes his head like a grape, then nails Rudy to the kitchen door. So we're down to Sara, Busta, and Tyra. Plus nerd-boy, who's calling 911. Yeah, that oughta help.

Nerd-boy begins text-messaging her on her Palm Pilot (or whatever the hell it is) as to Michael's location. He's not very good at it, because soon Michael's got her cornered, along with Busta. Busta pulls some Wu Tang kung fu, though, and after Sara wraps a camera cord around his neck, Busta kicks Michael out a window, where he hangs by the neck until dead. Or until two minutes from now, when everyone who's never seen a horror movie before will be shocked -- shocked! -- to find that he's come back to life.

Wait, nerd-boy even spoils that surprise, with the message: "HE'S STILL ALIVE!" I thought it was odd that he added "H3 i$ g01n9 +o HaX0r j00r @$$!!!11 ROTFLMAO ;)))" Nerd-boy's got leet skillz, bitch.

Michael stabs Busta, but I'd bet anything it's non-fatal. He chases Sara for a while, and she winds up in the control room, where she finds Tyra has been exsanguinated (look it up). Michael appears, and she attacks him with a chainsaw. Which could've been cool, if done well, but, in case I haven't made it abundantly clear, little or nothing in this flick is done well.

Then Busta breaks down the door to save the day. Hooray. He's alive. He does some more tae-bo, and Michael knocks his sorry ass across the room. Michael approaches in slow motion... slowly he raises the knife... sloooowly... sloooooooooowly.... This is where I started yelling, "Just kill him, for Christ's sake!" (In this scene, Busta says both "Trick or treat, muthafucka!" and "Hey Mikey! Happy fuckin' Halloween!" Admit it: you want him to get killed, too.)

But Busta has other ideas. He grabs a live wire, and jabs it into Michael's crotch. Yes, crotch. Because this movie is all about taking the high road. Michael gets tangled in other wires, and lights up like a Christmas tree. A bloody, homicidal, William Shatner mask-wearing Christmas tree covered in sparklers and kerosene. I bet he's really really dead, this time for sure!

Cops and news crews show up now, and Busta spouts this mealy-mouthed bullshit to the cameras about how "Michael Myers is not a sound bite," as though the film had been indicting the world of reality TV and ubiquitous web cameras, rather than exploiting it. Nice try at having it both ways, chumps. And Michael? He retires to a villa on the French Riviera, having invested wisely in tech stocks in 1999.

Coming in 2005: Halloween 9! No, really. You know, it might be time to let this franchise take a few years off again.

TV: New season update

Very brief updates on how the new shows this season have been holding up:

Jack & Bobby: I thought this would be one of the best new shows. I was way, way wrong. I've dropped the show completely, and it's 100% due to the shrill, idiotic, contemptible figure Jack & Bobby's mother (played by Christine Lahti) has become. She takes some inane, self-righteous, and hateful stand each week, and then is shown to be utterly wrong and made to eat her words. I think, from the way they seem to delight in humiliating and exposing her as a fool and a shrew, that the writers must hate her. I know I do.

Lost: The last episode, delving into some of the mystery of Mr. Locke (Terry O'Quinn), was excellent, especially the surprise ending, which I didn't see coming at all. And some new mysteries of the island were introduced -- who is the man in the suit? (Mr. Roarke? I thought it looked like Fantasy Island!) I think the secrets of the island may well turn out to be half technological in nature, half magical. This show has so many possibilities, and no sign yet that it will squander them. Remains the best new show of the year.

Desperate Housewives: Felicity Huffman's character came off a little better than she did last week, Teri Hatcher continues to beguile (yes, I said beguile), and Marcia Cross is just fascinating. I love this show.

Boston Legal: William Shatner is great. They're letting Mark Valley be more than the tight-ass punchline I thought they were setting him up to be, which is good. But with the introduction of Spader's malevolently insane ex-girlfriend, this show may be primed to jump the shark about a full season before David Kelley's shows usually do. That character is an early sign of Kelley resorting to his worst melodramatic and over-the-top impulses. I instantly hate her. Hope she doesn't become a regular. Rest of the show is stellar; even the three personality-less office beauties are gaining some dimension.

Kevin Hill and Veronica Mars: They're still on UPN, so I'm still waiting for them to go horribly wrong, or get cancelled, or both. But I've enjoyed each episode so far. Fingers crossed!

And a Farscape update: I'm about halfway through season 3 in my catching up on the marathon the Sci-Fi Channel ran last week. Which means I won't be caught up in time for the first installment of The Peacekeeper Wars mini-series tonight. I'm not even going to TiVo it until it repeats next weekend (to save space on my hard drive); hopefully I'll be ready for it then. I have to say, the third season looks substantially different from the previous two; it's lit and shot more like a series of short films, rather than a normal TV show. Which makes each episode feel more important, somehow -- weightier, more significant. I like the look, and I love the show.

TV: Lois and the Shat

Two new shows on ABC Sunday have definitely got my attention after their debuts this week: Desperate Housewives and Boston Legal.

The better is Housewives, which is about the women of Wisteria Lane, all leading lives of quiet desperation. The dark underbelly of suburbia is something we've all seen before (American Beauty, etc.), but, as Roger Ebert often likes to say, a movie (or TV show) is not what it is about, but how it is about it. And the "how" of Housewives is all kinds of juicy goodness.

Teri Hatcher is the nominal star of the ensemble, I guess; her character is the least screwed up, and thus the most easy to connect with. She's a divorced mother of a teen girl, and she's never looked lovelier; I'm glad she's lost that orange tan she had in all those Howie Long Radio Shack commercials. She's sweet and sad and funny and vulnerable, she's got a believable, supportive relationship with her daughter (thank GOD there's one teen girl who's not a completely hateable bitch this TV season), and she's got the hots for the new plumber on the block (lucky bastard).

The rest of the four leads are progressively more screwed up. Felicity Huffman (who shares top billing with Hatcher) is the breeder, with three shitty little brats and a baby to take care of. I loved her on SportsNight, but her frantic, resentful role here is a little too frantic and resentful. She's still great in it, though. Marcia Cross is the Stepford wife, resented for her rigidity by her husband and kids. I can't decide if she's beautiful or frightening. And Eva Longoria is the trophy wife who's screwing the teenage gardener; to make sure her husband doesn't fire the boy, she secretly mows the lawn for him in the middle of the night -- in an evening gown, no less. Oh, and Nicollette Sheridan is the local sexpot. Now, The Sure Thing was a long time ago, I know, but didn't she used to be hot? She looks rough, here. A little too much plastic surgery.

The whole thing is held together with narration from Brenda Strong. I love Brenda Strong, from SportsNight, from 3rd Rock from the Sun, from Seinfeld... from everything. Too bad she blows her brains out in the first minute. But she still narrates the show from beyond the grave (hello again, American Beauty!). And she's got a dirty little secret, as the other housewives discover while cleaning away her possessions. As does her husband, who's digging up the swimming pool by night. And that new plumber isn't quite what he seems, either...

It's a soap that's trying to be more than just another soap, and based on the first episode, I'd say it's succeeding. The four lead actresses are all great, the mysteries and intrigue drew me in, the over-the-top antics and melodrama are good, dirty fun. And with the huge ratings it got in its debut, there should be plenty more to come. (The big ratings for this and Lost are making me breathe a sigh of relief for the upcoming TV season.)

Boston Legal, the spin-off or sequel or whatever you want to call it from The Practice, doesn't waste any time in jumping into the typical David E. Kelley ludicrous excesses. Much like Housewives, Legal gets rid of one of my favorite performers in the first scene. The hilarious Larry Miller doesn't kill himself like Brenda Strong; rather, he shows up to a board meeting wearing no pants, and is carted off to the loony bin. I have now seen Larry Miller's ass, and I can't say I'm happy about that. David E. Kelley, you are one sick son of a bitch.

Kelley's shows are generally brilliant in their first season, then soon go to hell when Kelley starts throwing in whatever insane plot twist or character development he can dream up. But with Legal, the starting line is insane. Denny Crane (William Shatner, or as Ian likes to call him: the Shat!) and Alan Shore (James Spader, so magnificently creepy with the smallest of smiles) are "eccentric" to the point of mania. Spader thinks nothing of lying, cheating, and blackmailing to win his cases, and the Shat goes even farther than that, causing a scene in a courtroom by sending in Al Sharpton. Yes, Al Sharpton really makes a cameo. That's how insane this show is from day one.

Also, the Shat refuses to hire a private detective to tail the wife of his firm's biggest client, because he's the one having an affair with her. Typical Kelley.

Mark Valley, who was so great as Keen Eddie, is stuck in what looks to be the typical tightass, punching bag role, which is a shame, but it's good to see him on TV again. Rene Auberjonois is in full Clayton*-mode, and it's a pleasure to witness. And Rhona Mitra, Lake Bell, and Monica Potter are three hot chicks. I'm trying to think, did they do much of anything other than just be hot... nope, they were just hot. And I have no problem with that.

I liked the insanity, because it's pulled off with such flair by Spader and the Shat. The problem is, how long before all the crazy antics, which were so entertaining in this first show, become tiresome and irritating, as in every other Kelley show? Judging from The Practice or Picket Fences, three years, tops. Judging from Ally McBeal or Boston Public, one year. Hell, I was irritated by the "Annie" storyline in this premiere episode. I'll stick with it for as long as Kelley and the almost unanimously stellar cast can walk that tightwire.

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*If you don't know who Clayton Endicott III was, I may hate you a little bit, either for being ignorant of your TV history, or for being too young to care.