Black Gate

The much anticipated — and feared — “reimagining” of Patrick McGoohan’s classic cult TV series The Prisoner is scheduled for release on AMC in November. One good sign is that Ian McKellen is cast as Number Two (a role which, unlike the original series, will not revolve among multiple actors) and is (like the original) of fixed duration. James Caviezal is Number 6 and there are some interesting parallels here. Caviezal played Jesus in Mel Gibson’s (who was rumored to be a candidate for Number 6 in the various movie proposals over the year) The Passion of the Christ, controversial for its brutal, some would say sado-masochistic, portrayal of the Gospel stories. Like McGoohan, Caviezal is an observant Cathloic. Caviezal has made public stands on such issues as stem cell research and it is not inconceivable this might have affected his career in an industry that for the most part tilts left; McGoohan reportedly turned down the role of James Bond for moral reasons and insisted in his contract that he would not kiss women on-screen, particularly ironic given that The Prisoner was embraced by the sexual liberation advocates of the Sixties counter-culture for the program’s non-conformist ethos.

I’ve written about the original series here at this blog; you can take a look at a preview of the new series here. It actually looks promising, though of course it wouldn’t be the first time the trailer was better than the actual program. The new show echoes some of the original’s motifs, including Rover and McKellen’s “Britishness.” The Village is relocated to some kind of desert area ringed by mountains that reminds me of Arizona, and the setting seems to be some kind of take on mid-Fifties Levittown America, a perhaps not unsurprising choice given that this is from the network that has made its name with Mad Men.

I’m looking forward to seeing this but, alas, since I don’t have cable, here’s hoping the DVD version won’t be far behind.

Be seeing you.

Last week I posted my reaction to Lev Grossman’s “Good Books Don’t Have to Be Hard” essay in The Wall Street Journal. Here’s a more detailed analysis, courtesy of The Mumpsimus. Here also is Michael Agger’s take on Grossman’s own plotting in the Sunday New York Times Book Review.

On another note, I just finished China Miéville’s The City and the City. Intriguing premise — and something quite different from his previous work, which is always good to see in a favorite novelist — where two presumably East European cities somehow physically co-exist, with the inhabitants following strict protocols to avoid one another whenever their separate realities intersect.  Grossman would be happy that it has compelling plotting; however, as a “police procedural,”  Miéville doesn’t quite play fair. Part of the game in these kind of things is to at least give the reader a chance of figuring out the mystery of “whodunnit,” which I doubt anyone would be able to, although I’m guessing this isn’t  Miéville’s concern here. I think he’s aiming at something more metaphorical along the lines of the existential spaces we all tread among the various realms of social interaction.  Nonetheless, the unfolding of the mystery struck me as a little forced. Potentially, this could be the start of a series.

Interesting that Thomas Pynchon’s latest is also a noir detective novel that people might actually read, if only because its less than opus-length. However, while the detective novel form  might be a way to introduce new readers to Pynchon, I don’t think I’d pick The City and The City to introduce folks to Miéville.  That would probably be Perdido Street Station.

Grossman argues that the general reading public is reacting against the “plotless” works of Modernism that presumably have come to dominate our reading selections. The problem with this is that many of the works cited as “plotless” Modernist, such as The Great Gatsby, weren’t all that popular  at the time of their publication. Indeed, it wasn’t until after World War II when the academy declared these works as part of the literary canon, coupled with the post-war rise in college attendance, that people came to hear of them.   …

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This certainly sounds interesting.  I wonder if the title “District 9” was in any way inspired by director Edward Wood’s “Plan 9 from Outer Space,” infamous for its bad acting, ridiculous script and amateurish special effects.  Apparently (I haven’t seen it yet), this new film is the opposite and perhaps a welcome relief from the standard cinematic science fiction films that rely more on special effects than effective storytelling.

I’m not sure what’s with the “9” thing of late.  Equally intriguing is another science fiction film, produced by Tim Burton, to be released on 9-09-09 called, well, you’ve already figured that out.

I’m old enough  to remember when the first heart transplant caused a flurry of debate on the ethics of harvesting organs, even from people certifiably brain dead (not including most politicians, television newscasters  and reality show celebrities), as perhaps a violation of natural, if not God’s law.  Of course, they used to say the same thing about blood transfusions, though even in the 21st century certain religious beliefs view this as impermissable, though in the decided minority and, in one recent case, prayer in lieu of medical intervention has been ruled criminal negligence, thank god. These days, scheduling a heart transplant or most any other organ swipe out with a biological or mechanical replacement is almost like taking your car to Jiffy Lube for an oil change.  (Needless to say, I exaggerate, as an oil change is much less costly and doesn’t involve third party payers.)  Times change. When I was a kid, notions of “post-humans” with biological enhancements and AI feeds were the stuff of science fiction.  Today, they are the subject of articles such as You: The Updated Owner’s Manual in the Sunday New York Times Book Review.

Speaking of The New York Times, the magazine recently profiled Jack Vance, whose name I’ve seen but never read, something I now intend to fix post-haste.

Okay, I’ll admit that in a past indiscretion I went to an adult store (this was in the days before the Internet, when it was the only place you could get such things) and bought an anatomically correct blow up doll.  But, it wasn’t for me. Honestly. It was a joke gift for a bachelor party. Nonetheless, I want to take this opportunity to apologize to my congregation, my constituents and my family for behavior that was actually perfectly innocent, though I realize it could be construed by some as some kind of perverted behavior  by those who haven’t as yet been caught in their own perverted behavior.

At least I didn’t actually use the thing (nor, to my knowledge, did the prospective groom). But, true, I am guilty in the trafficking of plastic pleasure dolls.

What’s this guy’s excuse?
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