Can you believe we've only got two episodes left to go this season? It feels like just yesterday we were cracking wise about Edgar Allen Poe stories, wondering when we would finally learn who this "Roderick" fellow was and what relationship, if any, he might have to the Diary of a Wimpy Kid character. Think of all that's transpired these past three months! Plots slowly, slowly advanced. Characters were introduced, then killed or severely wounded. There were LCD Soundsystem flashbacks. But we're finally nearing the finish line, Following Followers, and with that comes the tidying up of some of the season's loose ends.
Most notably, last night saw the untimely demise of our favorite Follower/fake town sheriff, Roderick, who bit it when frustrations with Joe led him to make some rash decisions. "I told you I'm impulsive!" he reiterated to Ryan in an interrogation. Too true, guy! The shame of it is that things had been running so smoothly for a full three minutes or so. As we saw last week, Roderick managed to ingratiate himself with Hardy & the FBI, hot on the trail of the Follower compound. Everybody seemed cool, just happy to be working with a normal guy like Roderick. But then Weston — he of the recent really bad day — pegged him as the guy who kidnapped and tortured him. And just like that? Roderick's sheriffin' days was over.
I think most of us assumed the creative team would drag that deception out to at least a mid-episode reveal, so points for getting things moving fast. In a frenzy, Roderick returned to Follower HQ. "We're screwed," he told Joe. Ever the unflappable college professor when an audience is in view, Joe kept his cool at first. But that quickly turned to choke-fighting, and the end of Joe and Roderick's professional and personal relationship. Moments later, #2 would kidnap Joey (who just cannot catch a break); in response, Joe would order Roderick dead. It's crazy how fast relationships can sour, in or out of murder compounds.
Things weren't going much better for the FBI, who'd been totally blindsided by the Roderick reveal. "Isn't that a kick in the pants!" Parker basically said, shrugging her shoulders in the most nonchalant way ever associated with a horrific murder investigation. Meanwhile Hardy, out of ideas and lacking anything resembling departmental oversight, even at the federal level, got on camera to deliver a VERY SPECIAL MESSAGE to Joe's Followers: "Any Follower who wants to give us info, gets immunity. You can turn back. Be completely exonerated." "Maybe that'll yield some fruit?" Hardy thought, imagining his next vodka and vodka on the rocks.
His FBI commander made sure to chew him out, but in that very specific way that says he really admires Hardy's outside-the-box thinking and can-do attitude. And hey — while Hardy's play didn't immediately land them any ex-Followers, it wasn't long before they tracked down Roderick. Hardy managed to interrogate the guy without stabbing his hand or aggravating a bullet wound, so that was good, and even got Joe on the phone to describe how we would "personally peel the skin from [Roderick's] body" if they ever saw each other again. Then the kicker: Roderick had Joey. Not nearby, no, but somewhere close enough. Hardy, would you mind giving him a lift?
This next sequence was great. We've been trained to think of Hardy as this rule-breaking alky with a devil-may-care attitude, the kind of guy who would willingly torch an orphanage for love and go swimming just twenty minutes after eating. Hardy don't care! So when he flagrantly ignored his boss's one command to not trade Roderick for Joey, all us Followers at home were like "psssh, show me something new." GUESS WHAT: Parker, Weston, and even Hardy's boss (Nick? It doesn't matter) were in on Hardy's plan the whole time. "Now I've drunk the Ryan Hardy juice!" laughed Nick, completely unaware of his employee's unbelievable history of alcoholism and regret-focused mood disorder. But DAMMIT if it didn't work: Roderick shot dead by Weston*, Joey in Hardy's arms, and the whole world a little warmer if only for one hour on FOX.
*A serious question: was it Weston that took the fatal shot? This show is so unbelievably dark — visually — that half the time I can't make out things like characters, or scenes. You should know that most of the time I treat The Following like a really strange radio show.
Claire, meanwhile, continued her one-woman show about completely nonsensical characterization with a few scenes at Follower HQ in which she: explained concepts of "good" and "bad" to her son; tried to level with Jacob, a known murderer but great babysitter; fake-flirted with Joe, another very-known murderer; finally summoned the courage to shiv said murderer with intent to kill. Yes, we all do crazy things for the love of Kevin Bacon but Claire — you're all over the map! Even your ex-husband would have to agree! Which he did, over the phone to Ryan:
"Our story has taken an…unexpected turn. It's bad. Really bad. Page one rewrite." Before Hardy could assemble their writers group to address these narrative problems head-on, Joe offered his rewrite idea. "Sadly, it is time for Claire to die."
Oh, and one of the Followers took Hardy up on his exoneration offer from 30 minutes earlier but really she just wanted to stir s**t up, specifically by stabbing Nick in the eyes. Those probably won't heal. Altogether now:
"And that's what happens when you drink the Ryan Hardy juice."
Follow Henning on Twitter @HenningFog
MORE:'The Following' Recap: We Need to Talk About Weston'The Following' Recap: Hardy Uncovers an Explosive Plot'The Following' Recap: Goodbye, Claire?
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Merging Serpico with an almost Shakespearean sense of tragedy Pride and Glory details an extremely complicated investigation into the gunning down of four New York City cops after an attempted drug bust goes terribly wrong. With increasingly bad PR and an apparent cop killer still at large the Chief of Manhattan Detectives Francis Tierney Sr. (Jon Voight) assigns his son Detective Ray Tierney (Edward Norton) to lead the probe. The younger Tierney is reluctant since he knows all four cops served under his brother Francis Jr. (Noah Emmerich) and brother-in-law Jimmy Egan (Colin Farrell). Ray’s instincts may be right because as he digs deeper he discovers an awkward and uncomfortable connection between Francis Jimmy and the case. Could his own family have been involved in an inside job and tipped off the drug dealers? Soon Ray finds himself having to choose between the greatest moral dilemma of all: loyalty to the job or loyalty to his family. Although Pride and Glory doesn’t break any new ground and is composed of elements we’ve seen in many previous films dealing with police corruption this film is distinguished by some of the finest work in the storied careers of many of its cast. Norton follows up his summer comic-book movie The Incredible Hulk with a far smaller and more focused character in P&G playing a man caught in a moral bind facing the unthinkable prospect of going after his own family members. Norton wears his ticklish predicament on his face and is enormously effective conveying pure angst. Emmerich (Little Children) delivers a rich portrayal of a tortured soul not only caught up in an intense investigation but dealing with a wife (Jennifer Ehle) dying of cancer. Farrell is better than he has been in some time playing a shady officer who seemingly will stop at nothing to get what he needs. Voight as the proud family patriarch and veteran of the NYPD clearly understands the dilemma of this man who is watching his family torn apart. Co-writer/director Gavin O'Connor has spent a frustrating couple of years trying to bring this story to the screen but his perseverance pays off. Pride and Glory is a well-written cop tale that co-exists as an interesting character study about the power of family ties vs. personal pride. O’Connor manages to put us right in the center of the moral conflict at the heart of his story and with several first-rate actors (even in the lesser roles) crafts a film that seems authentic to its core. Incorporating Declan Quinn’s in-your-face realistic cinematography O’Connor resists going for a more obvious audience-pleasing flashier style achieving a look and feel that seems more grounded in the milieu he’s trying to capture. His script co-written with Joe Carnahan (who wrote and directed the equally gritty Narc) is tight and unsympathetic slowly letting layers of a very intricate and complex story peel away to reveal a core that packs a punch right to the gut.
For a few years in the '60s and '70s producer Gerry Anderson made "supermarionation" all the rage in the world of British children's television. His stop-motion puppets starred in a number of sci-fi adventure series most memorably Thunderbirds which followed the exploits of International Rescue -- a team comprised of ex-astronaut Jeff Tracy and his sons. Based out of their secret fortress on Treasure Island the Tracys (aided by lovely secret agent Lady Penelope) used their amazing rocket-powered vehicles to prevent disasters and save lives around the world. Now 40 years after Thunderbirds' TV debut Star Trek vet Jonathan Frakes has brought Anderson's characters to life on the big screen. Front and center is youngest son Alan Tracy (Brady Corbet) who dreams of the day he too can pilot one of his family's fab ships and lead missions. But first he has to prove himself to his father Jeff (Bill Paxton). That opportunity comes sooner than either expects when mysterious villain The Hood (Ben Kingsley) strands Jeff and the older Tracy boys in space and attacks Treasure Island. With only his friends Tintin (Vanessa Anne Hudgens) and Fermat (Soren Fulton) to help him Alan has to grow up quickly if he wants to save his family ... and the world!
It would be easy to mock several of the performances in Thunderbirds-- to chide Paxton for his earnest seriousness as Tracy patriarch Jeff to dismiss Corbet's angst-tinged eagerness as Alan to roll your eyes at Kingsley's over-the-top mystical fierceness as The Hood and to wince at Fulton and Anthony Edwards' nerdy stuttering as science whizzes Fermat and his dad Brains. But actors are only as good as their script and the one Frakes has given his cast (courtesy of screenwriters William Osborne and Michael McCullers) is weak and clichéd at best filled with after-school-special-worthy lessons for Alan to learn. "You can't save everyone " Jeff tells his son somberly and even Tintin has a moral for her crush when he's feeling selfish and indulging in self-pity: "This is hard on all of us Alan." Talk about insight! What makes it even more frustrating is knowing that the actors are capable of much more even the kids: Both Corbet and Hudgens did well with supporting roles in Thirteen. Thunderbirds' only real bright spot is Sophia Myles as Lady Penelope. A cross between Reese Witherspoon's Elle in Legally Blonde and Jennifer Garner's Sydney on Alias Myles' Lady P doesn't let her pink couture wardrobe prevent her from coolly kicking ass when the situation demands it. Attended by her droll driver/man-of-all-trades Parker (Ron Cook) Lady Penelope is a fresh feisty heroine with all of the film's best lines -- and the coolest car to boot.
Frakes cut his directorial teeth on episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation and his first feature film was Star Trek: First Contact so he would seem like a natural choice to bring a cult sci-fi TV show to the big screen. Unfortunately while he does an admirable job re-creating (and improving on) the original Thunderbirds' mod sets cool ships and special effects (which are fine if a bit more TV-sized than summer blockbustery) Frakes can't seem to decide who his audience is. If he was aiming at grown-ups who remember the show fondly from their own childhood he should have embraced the source material's campiness (à la Starsky and Hutch) rather than restricting it to the Tracys' plastic Barbie-like furniture and Lady P's bouffant hairdo. If on the other hand Frakes was hoping to entertain today's kids he should have really reinvented the show for a 21st-century world (à la Stephen Hopkins'1998 Lost in Space) rather than clinging to the '60s references As it is he's stuck somewhere in the middle leaving adults bored during the kids-on-an-adventure bits and children mystified by the handful of jokes aimed at their parents.
August 02, 2002 12:18pm EST
Meet Pistachio Disguisey (Dana Carvey) an irritating little guy who works as a waiter in his father Fabbrizio's (James Brolin) Italian restaurant. One night Fabbrizio gets kidnapped by one of his former enemies (Brent Spiner) a criminal mastermind who intends to use him to steal some of the world's most precious treasures including the Declaration of Independence and the Liberty Bell. A distraught Pistachio gets an unexpected visit from his grandfather (Harold Gould) who spills the beans about the Disguisey dynasty and reveals that Pistachio actually comes from a long line of masters of disguise. With some quick lessons in Energico the art of transformation Pistachio is ready to rescue Fabbrizio from his evil captors. And because every master of disguise needs an assistant he hires a smart and beautiful woman named Jennifer (Jennifer Esposito) to help him track down his father. The story in this film is so simple and the jokes so clean--unless you consider the one running fart gag "crude humor"--it's a mystery this film received a PG rating.
Well now isn't that special? Anyone familiar with Carvey can't help but be a fan. His characters from his Saturday Night Live days including Garth in "Wayne's World " Hans in "Pumping Up With Hans and Franz"--not to mention the judgmental Church Lady--are comedy classics. Unfortunately the wittiness that made his SNL characters downright hilarious is wasted in The Master of Disguise. While Carvey shines when mocking people in a compulsive manner in the film his impersonations are a little rusty. In one scene for example Carvey is supposed to be imitating George W. Bush but until he flat-out calls himself "Dubya " he looks and sounds a lot more like George Sr. For the better part of the film we see Carvey doing a myriad of silly and unsophisticated characters like a chunk of grass--complete with a patch of cow dung--and gooey cherry pie filling. Granted this film is aimed at children who will probably find a guy in a grass suit funny. But sadly his characterizations just don't seem up to par. Anyone can don a costume and act silly and Carvey just doesn't stand out. Spiner (better known as Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation) plays the villain in a stiff and methodical way while Esposito sort of seems like she's playing herself.
Perry Andelin Blake who has worked as a production designer in countless Adam Sandler pics including Billy Madison The Wedding Singer and Little Nicky makes his directorial debut with The Master of Disguise. His design skills are obvious: The film has a very ambient and magical feel about it; it's dark and smoky with rich and elaborate sets that include dusty attics with moving bookshelves and dimly lit alleyways. There are a few funny moments in the movie mostly the cameo scenes with Bo Derek Michael Johnson Jesse Ventura and Jessica Simpson not to mention the scenes in which Carvey displays his gift to mock. But I still can't understand why the filmmakers chose to make the main character Italian. The ridiculous accent makes Pistachio the single most irritating thing about the movie with that stupid name coming in a close second.
A promising young playwright Sidda Lee Walker (Sandra Bullock) lives in New York far enough away from her Louisiana hometown. After she gives a damaging interview to Time magazine--damaging mainly to her mother Vivianne Abbott Walker (Ellen Burstyn) who doesn't take lightly to her daughter's intonations that she was not a good mother--the two women begin a feud. It threatens to destroy not only their relationship but Sidda's own plans to marry her longtime boyfriend Connor (Angus MacFadyen). Enter the Ya-Ya Sisterhood--Caro (Maggie Smith) Teensy (Fionnula Flanagan) and Necie (Shirley Knight) Vivi's lifelong best friends. To bring mother and daughter back together the women decide it's time for Sidda to learn about the Divine Secrets of their little clique--and about her mother's painful past. They tell Sidda stories about the young Vivi (Ashley Judd) who was full of promise and hope but how certain tragic events damaged her. The bond between these four older women is unshakable and the most honest element to the film. The sad news for the novel's fans however is that while the script manages to convey the true spirit of friendship it can't quite capture the magic of the book.
In a cast of many the film is chock-full of wonderful performances but it's the matured Ya-Yas who steal the show. Smith plays the tough Caro a lifelong smoker now saddled with emphysema with all the biting wit the actress is best known for while Knight plays the sweet no-nonsense Necie with just a hint of sarcasm. Flanagan the best of the three shines as the wealthy Teensy a recovering alcoholic who has faced demons herself. Her exchanges are some of the more memorable especially when after being told by an angry Vivi that she could knock Teensy into next week Teensy tells her friend "And I'll kick your ass on Thursday." Yet the film truly belongs to Burstyn and Judd as the different faces of Vivi. Burstyn is all at once the highly dramatic Southern beauty who has come to terms with (or remained steeped in denial about however you look at it) her painful past while Judd gets to show us the nitty-gritty of what actually happened to Vivi to harden her. Unfortunately the weakest member of this ensemble cast is Bullock as Sidda. She never quite convinces us she grew up in such an eccentric and terribly Southern environment. And not to leave out the men completely--James Garner plays Sidda's father Shep with quiet patience having survived life with his lady love who never loved him quite the same in return. The devoted Connor mirrors Shep but MacFadyen plays him with a lot more backbone.
Oscar-winning screenwriter Callie Khouri (Thelma & Louise) couldn't have chosen a better film to make as her directorial debut. Sure she might be pigeonholed forever as the "chick flick" girl but she probably doesn't care much. Khouri had been approached to adapt Wells' novel a few times over the last couple of years but never had the time to do it. When the right time came along Khouri wisely decided it was also time to take on the directing chores. Even as a novice the writer/director shows us she knows her way around a camera. The film captures that Southern feel lush and languid as the moss drips down from the trees. She also knows how to handle her actors too and is able to elicit great performances (although with the likes of Burstyn and Smith this isn't hard to do). The soundtrack also is an added bonus with a variation of music from jazz to Louisiana Cajun. Yet even with all this going for it Divine Secrets misses a beat. In a novel it's great to read stories about an eccentric Southern family but to have vignettes told to you as a framework for a movie it can slow a film down. You probably won't be able to drag your husband to go see this one.