K-Pop ... I know, right? (The #Clueless Blog Hop)

I am so happy to be "touring" with my posse again. Of course, because we all have such a good such sense of humor, we decided we could poke a little fun at ourselves and explore that which we do NOT know. (Thanks to Jami for being the brave blogger who kicked this tour off.) I can't speak for the rest of the crew, but for me it was hard picking something -- there's just so many things to choose from...

There are of course many things I don't get. I like to fob it off on my superior perspective -- I take the long view, I'm more worried about the well-being of everyone, I'm just a better person than everyone else -- but sometimes I simply don't have any familiarity with something and I'm too intimidated to know where to start. Like guns and other weapons, not to mention when they should be used (though I do know where and when they shouldn't be...), and why they're a good choice in that context. I can, oddly, follow military history (in more weirdness, I still think Max Boot's books on military history are great), but if you made me tell you which weapons were being used at which historical pivot points, I'd probably shout something like "tanks in World War I!" and then run away. As someone whom people actually think knows something about history, this gaping hole is a little bit of an embarrassment.

Speaking of embarrassing...If you've read this blog more than once, you may have noticed that I watch more than my share of Korean entertainment. I watch more than my Korean relatives; my thirty-something cousin (once removed) had watched The Squid Game because he didn't live under a rock, but he hadn't seen Mouse, which I thought was an infinitely better told story. I didn't even bother asking about all of the other titles, which now include The Devil Judge. I know -- what even is that title? -- but it's really good. As I've said before, South Korean entertainment is obsessed with South Korean corruption, but this brings the critique to a new level. I'm only half-joking when I say that I can trade Gaslit Nation for K-dramas and get the same content.

So, I *know* about South Korean entertainment. Hell, I know enough gossip about it that I can get the in jokes on shows like Behind Every Star (the South Korean version of Call My Agent!). And I've developed enough of an eye that I can tell when an actor is a model or a K-pop star (among other things, the K-pop stars are thinner and tend to be more "non-threatening"). But you know what? I cannot tell you ANYTHING about K-pop itself. I'm very proud of how well K-pop is doing and the effect it has on South Korea's soft power, but I wouldn't recognize a K-pop song if I fell over it, and I wouldn't recognize the members of BTS if I bumped into them. (Am I the one living under a rock?) 

Who are these people?!

It's weird that it's this way, in part because lately K-dramas have really cool soundtracks, and some of the songs are iconic. Cue Hush from Guardian: The Lonely and Great God (I know, again, these titles)...except the recording artist is Swedish. Okay, fine, but even among the Korean artists, the songs aren't what's considered K-pop (e.g., the theme song from Inspector Koo).

I think I tried listening to BTS -- it had to have been Butter -- but it just didn't grab me and I didn't make it all the way through. And then while stumbling through Spotify's suggestions, I came upon brb., this really cool boy band from Singapore. Like, damn, where have they been all my life? (I mean, nonexistent for most of it, but you know what I mean.) Their music hits that dancy, edgy, jazzy, loungey spot that I'm always looking for. (Listen to Move if that description doesn't work for you.) Okay, I digress...

The closest I've come to K-Pop is stumbling upon DPR IAN, which led me to DPR LIVE, who sometimes performs with GRAY and CL (I have no idea what these names mean either). These DPRs (okay, this I can tell you stands for Dream Perfect Regime, which is the name of their music label) technically include some rap, but what stands out for me is more the storytelling style, and the music is pretty good too. (And of course, my sample is based on the eight songs that have made it to my playlist, so I'm obviously an expert.) However, I don't feel this brings me any closer to an understanding of K-pop as a grouping of musical styles. But I can still recognize a K-pop singer on sight so...maybe I have at least one clue?

What are you clueless or even clue-free about? Please let me or the rest of the crew know. Tomorrow we are over to Kerrie, and then Caroline finishes it off on Friday.

Thanks for reading!

Deb in the City

PS Thank you in advance for the K-pop suggestions some kind soul will inevitably give me. Unfortunately, since my primary computer has gone into an unconscious state for no apparent reason, might be a little while before I can get to them.

Reality Versus the Hype (Blog Hop)

Thank goodness for my gaggle of bloggers, who give me reasons to write blog posts. Morgan, Jami, Caroline, Kerrie, and I will be blogging this week about Reality versus Hype, which I'm sure everyone is going to take in their signature hilarious, insightful, and touching directions. Here's our schedule for the week; please take a look at all of them and share your thoughts about when the promise (or threat) didn't match the truth.

Happily Ever After is frequently not all it's cracked up to be

November 25, Morgan

November 26, Jami

November 27, Caroline

November 28, Deb

November 29, Kerrie

My Real Life Alter Ego (Blog Hop)

Thanks so much to Caroline for starting our latest blog hop off yesterday. I loved the idea of doing something like this because it's a way for me to re-christen my blog as Deb In The City. Many moons ago (back in July of 2006, to be exact), I started another blog called Deb In The City where I talked about being a mom of many in an urban environment and trying to do it all on a budget. That was a different time, I am a different person, but I've missed writing about life and not just writing and pop-culture. (Sometimes I just don't want to watch Netflix. There, I said it.) I'm hoping this won't be mundane. but it's definitely going to be more personal.

So here's what you need to know about me when I'm not building new worlds and characters out of whole cloth:

• I'm a homeschooler. I like to think I'm kind of hip and cool, but "homeschooling mom" sounds about as exciting as snaking out my tub. But, as I see it, it's my most important job, and especially now that my youngest are older (14? When/how did that happen?!), it's a lot more fun. Do they love reading The Iliad? Of course not. Are they digging the survey text on World History we're using? Nope. And do they constantly question the utility of algebra and trigonometry? Like it's their job. But it still brings me a huge amount of joy to sit on the couch with them, read out loud, and even listen to their snarky commentary. I'm trying to get them to a place where they won't need me to learn, but I'm dreading it as well.

We all have our zany comfort reading...

• 
  I'm a good cook. Like, a really good cook. When you're low on funds and have dietary restrictions (vegetarian, vegan, wheat-intolerance, and allergic reactions to soy and sesame) and you live with people with different food restrictions (nut- and shellfish-allergies), being able to cook is a necessity. (But baking's mostly for fun.) Like Caroline, I've also worked in a cafe and even had my own, under-the-table catering business for a little while (that's as edgy as I've gotten). 

This raw, vegan chocolate cake is one of the easier things I've made (Photo Credit: The Happy Raw Kitchen)

• 
  I'm a yogi. Back in the day, I taught mind-body fitness. There's a lot about the fitness industry, in all corners, that can be pretty toxic, and it took me a long time to be able to practice yoga without a lot of that bubbling up, but recently I rediscovered why I loved Raviana's Yoga so much. Their workouts make me feel like I'm reclaiming my body - not as far as how it appears, but what it can do. And boy, there's nothing like not meditating regularly for about a decade to make clear just how much you need it.

I promise, this is more fun than it looks

• 
  I'm a super volunteer. Some people sign up for things, show up, and think that's all they have to do. I'm one of the people that puts in work behind the scenes. (This is not, by the way, because I'm such a community-minded person, but more because community-minded leaders usually see me standing somewhere un-warily and make their move on me before I can run away.) I've been the chair of a School Site Council, the editor of a newsletter, a member of the planning team for a conference (actually, make that two), and an organizer for social justice at my synagogue. I make the trains run, but in my opinion, that's just Adulting 101. (Admittedly, my opinion may be tempered by the fact that nothing anyone else has asked me to do has been as difficult as creating a world from scratch, so there's that.)
• I have given up my smart phone. That's a different kettle of fish than the other items, but worth mentioning because it's so out of the norm. It's something I've wanted to do for a long time, but finally worked up the courage to do. My smart phone had very quickly encouraged a sense of ennui in me that a lot of people can probably relate to. We carry computers Albert Einstein couldn't have conceived of, and most of use it to follow reality stars on Instagram and play Facebook games (yes, I too had a crippling Candy Crush addiction once; you can't get better if you don't face what you are). And don't get me started on the advertisers that stalk you all over the internet...The week I've been without my email constantly demanding my attention has been fantastic, and I recommend it to anyone who wants to be more present.

The smartest phone for me

That's me in a nutshell (er...sort of). Thanks so much for reading, and please check The O Life tomorrow to find out The Truth About Kerrie.

Worth the Binge! Blog Hop - the Marvel edition

I wrote on Monday about my love for K-dramas. That, of course, wasn’t what got me started on Netflix binging. That honor goes to House of Cards, but I’ve already talked about how over that series I am (the Kevin Spacey douchiness makes me feel better about that decision). What kept me paying the ever-increasing subscription charge after that were the Marvel shows. So let’s talk about the good, the bad, and the What The Hell is Going On.

My husband and children watched Daredevil before I did, but I could hear it in the background and thought it was taking itself wayyy too seriously, and that’s taking into account the tragic backstory of being blinded as a child and then orphaned. I think, overall, that’s still a good way to describe both Matt Murdoch aka Daredevil (Charlie Cox), but that overlooks the charms of Matt’s BFF and law partner Foggy Nelson (Eldon Henson) and secretary turned journalist Karen Page (Deborah Ann Woll). Honestly, Karen’s frequent outbursts and teariness irritated me at first (women don’t cry enough on television, right?), but by the sixth episode I found myself grudgingly admiring her determination, fortitude, and courage. She was well paired with journalist Ben Urich (Vondie Curtis-Hall) and later editor Mitchell Ellison (Geoffrey Cantor), who helped her (and of course Daredevil) expose the corruption of Wilson Fisk aka Kingpin (Vincent D’Onofrio). 

Well, what do you expect when you're a vigilante?

You’d think D’Onofrio would have been enough reason for me to watch this in the first place (did anyone else watch Law and Order: Criminal Intent just for him, or was that just me?), but the ridiculous graveliness he injected into Fisk’s voice made me cringe. Again, something I grew to ignore as the episodes marched on and we got a glimpse into the horrific childhood that shaped him into a crime boss with delusions of sainthood. Humanizing him even more was his love affair with Vanessa Marianna (Ayelet Zurer), a gallery owner shrewd enough to know what he really was but brave enough to stay with him after he bared his soul. Those touches of humanity were almost enough to get me through the absolutely savage treatment he inflicted on both friends and foes.

That was Season One, and it was definitely interesting enough to make me tune in for Season Two, but that was a disappointment. I can’t even describe it, other than to say that the presence of both Frank Castle aka The Punisher (Jon Bernthal) and Matt’s old flame Elektra Natchios (Elodie Yung) was supposed to serve some ridiculous plot that would explain why Matt would be so isolated by the end. Whatever. All I remember is by the end I was screaming at both Foggy and Karen that they needed to get as far away from him as they could.

If Daredevil in total earns a B (because I’m generous), Iron Fist is lucky to get a C. You’ve heard all of the complaints before, so I’ll just recap: Marvel was cowardly in the Seventies for wanting a martial arts hero but being unwilling to make the character, you know, actually Asian (I mean, it worked for Kung Fu and David Carradine, so why not?) and today’s Marvel and Netflix were extra special douchey for hiding behind said forty-year old decision; even given that, Danny Rand (Finn Jones) and Ward (Tom Pelphrey) and Joy Meachum (Jessica Stroup) positively reeked white privilege, and not even in the fun way a la Dynasty or Gossip Girl; the plot was ridiculous; Jones couldn’t act; and the actors had no chemistry. Some of that is all true to varying degrees, but it’s overlooking the most important problem: in the words of the legendary Michael Logan when describing the downfall of daytime soaps in the late 1990s, the writing sucked. It wasn’t fair to ask any of the actors to be more given the truly cringe worthy dialogue they were given and the stupid plot they were asked to support. Kudos to David Wenham as Harold Meachum and Pelphrey for being able to rise above the script (most of the time), but since in essence they were telling the story of a parent-child relationship gone to Hell (and then resurrected), their job was arguably less difficult. 

Let's agree that maybe this isn't the strongest premise.

It baffles me that most people felt Season Two was better, because if anything, I found the dialogue even harder to listen to, especially what they had Colleen Wing (Jessica Henwick) say. The bright spot was the introduction of Alice Eve as Typhoid Mary, but the less said about the stupid plot that brought her on, the better.

Those are the heroes that could use some work, so let’s talk about the ones who got it right.

Luke Cage is one of the coolest shows on television at any time. Best music, hands down; best group of female characters on any show (while I love Jessica Jones, she’s the only one on her show with her act together, and not always at that); incredible supporting cast (Alfre Woodard, Simone Missick, Karen Pittman, Rosario Dawson, Mahershala Ali, Sonja Sohn, and Ron Cephas Jones are only the most memorable); and, dare I say it, coolest villains (I shouldn’t have been sympathizing with Bushmaster (Mustafa Shakir) by the end, but I couldn’t help it). And Mike Colter as the titular Luke Cage played a reluctant superhero, well, as realistically as one can. 

In fairness, something like this could give anyone an inflated ego.

If Season One was all about Luke’s origins as a hero, then Season Two was about how close the line between savior and sinner can be. Honestly, by the second episode I wanted to slap Luke. No, dude, don’t get in your long-suffering girlfriend’s face (Dawson as Claire Temple) when she tells you to chill out and then don’t prove her point by punching your fist through a wall. The defining character trait of any villain is that they see themself as a victim who doesn’t have a choice, and Season Two made you squirm through every episode as Luke used that excuse again and again. When Season Two ended a la The Godfather, it made perfect sense even if you hated it.

But that’s not to say that there wasn’t A LOT to love in Season Two. Misty Knight (Missick) is a smart cop back from a maiming who’s aware enough to see when she’s in danger of falling over herself, but the real standout, in my opinion, was Priscilla Ridley (Pittman), the cool as ice police captain who forced Misty to be a better cop. Woodard was amazing as Mariah Dillard, the councilwoman who just couldn’t run far enough away from her own demons, and Theo Rossi was sometimes hypnotic as the amoral Shades Alvarez who finally remembered that he had a conscience. All of them were enough to make you want to watch Season Three, even if Luke had sold his soul to the devil.

(And then there’s the continuing bit about “getting coffee”. The look on Luke’s face when crime boss Rosalie Carbone (Annabella Sciorra) advised Luke that he didn’t like espresso because he’d never had it made right is reason enough to watch the show.)

But if I give Luke Cage an A, Hugo- and Peabody award winning Jessica Jones gets an A+.

Jessica Jones (Krysten Ritter) is a hero, period. She’s snarky, alcoholic, bitter, and self-loathing, but at the end she’s too intrinsically good not to help when someone genuinely needs her. In Season One, she knew that Kilgrave (David Tennant), the creepy supervillain who kept her in a psychic prison months before, was toying with her when he dangled his latest victim in front of her, but her instincts to help the otherwise helpless drowned out those of self-preservation. Similarly, when Oscar (J. R. Ramirez), her building’s super tried to kick her out of her apartment in Season Two for, basically, having superpowers, that didn’t stop her from saving his son when he was about to fall out of a window. She is, underneath the tough skin she assumed as a result of her psychic torture and rape, extremely sympathetic, no matter how imperfect someone may be. Lawyer-shark Jeri Hogarth (Carrie-Anne Moss) set Kilgrave loose on Jessica in Season One, but when she realized that Jeri was being set up by con artists pretending to have healing powers, Jessica stepped in to warn her; even if Jeri didn’t deserve to be trusted, she also didn’t deserve to be screwed.

Wary, just out of a fight, and ready for some more: classic Jessica Jones.

Unlike Luke Cage, Jessica doesn’t need or particularly want accolades for being helpful. In fact, she’s more likely to be alone and persecuted for just that. Still, when she’s at her lowest (and usually stinking drunk), her impulse is to help. After being thrown out of a bar for being too rowdy and then being told by a homeless man that she smelled, said man asked if she had any money. Instead of being insulted, she gave him the only thing she had: a coupon to a sandwich shop. That, right there, is the real Jessica Jones.

Season Two ended with Jessica both more alone and more hopeful than she’d been before. The fate of her family finally revealed, she had a chance to say goodbye to her mother and ended the codependent and increasingly toxic relationships she’d fallen into with both her foster sister Trish (Rachael Taylor) and former employee Malcolm (Eka Darville). But concluding those relationships left her space to begin a healthy romance with Oscar and have a chance at a normal life. Of course, we know that’s not going to last, as the final shot of Trish shows her with the superpowers she’s been so desperate for since she met Jessica. We know that’s not going to go well, and we know Jessica is bound to be sucked in.

Having said all of that, I have no idea what’s going on with this franchise.

I was not surprised that Iron Fist was canceled until I read that the second season was better received by critics and audiences alike. Initial buzz was that it might be a candidate for the new Disney streaming service (oh good, ANOTHER one). But then came the news last weekend that Luke Cage had been canceled. Um, what?! Much as I sneered at the character on screen for Season Two, the story made sense—and it was good. And, I hear, it was so popular on its first weekend that it crashed Netflix’s servers. Theories abound as to what happened, but it seems that “creative differences” plus increasingly unrealistic financial expectations exploded last week, and Netflix has judged that they don’t need Marvel anymore. Probably they don’t.

There’s the interesting possibility that Iron Fist and Luke Cage are going to be paired, just as they were in the comics...but, yeah, I don’t know. As good as Luke Cage was on screen, in my opinion, they messed with some of the DNA that makes their comics so interesting. While on television Danny and Colleen are an item and Luke was briefly paired with Misty, in the comics MISTY is Danny’s very serious girlfriend and Luke ends up married to Jessica Jones and raising a daughter with her. (The characters had an ill-father fling in Season One of Jessica Jones, but that was complicated by the fact that Jessica had killed his wife while under Kilgrave’s thrall.) Oh yeah, in the comics Misty and Colleen are also a crime fighting duo of their own who call themselves Daughters of the Dragon.

Do we want to guess why Netflix/Disney/Marvel decided to shift those pairings? (Let me know if you need me to spell it out.) And if they decided to do a course correction, while Misty had great (albeit weird) chemistry with Ward, there is absolutely none with Danny. And while I thought Colleen and Misty had some potential in Season Two of Luke Cage, by the time I was done with Season Two of Iron Fist I was hoping that they’d minimize the amount of time Misty was on so they wouldn’t ruin her character any further. It’s the writing, people, it is always the writing.

Having said that, when Danny made a cameo appearance in Season Two of Luke Cage, I, along with many other viewers, felt like finally the character had some potential. He and Luke have solid chemistry, and when the writing is there, Jones does a good job. So, with some reservations, this might be able to work, but they’re going to have to do a good deal of futzing first. 

Whew! Thanks so much to Kerrie, Morgan, and Caroline for a fun week of options to fill your non-existent free time with. Thanks to everyone who read, and please let us know what you think we should be binging on.

Bringing Back That Lovin' Feelin', or Rebooting the Seventies

When I was discussing this follow up blog hop with Caroline, what immediately came to mind was James Bond. Because what franchise has been more sensitive to the ebbs and flows of time and favor? In English: Dude, they’ve been making movies for 55 years, so obviously some of them are going to be better than others.

When Bond is good, he’s very good, and Sean Connery was a tough act for everyone after him to follow. When people think of Bond, his is the image that pops into their heads. And well it should.

I’ve already written about how Jack Lord stole the show in Dr. No, but only just barely. I have no problem publicly admitting that teenage me watched that whole movie wide-eyed (and maybe with my mouth slightly open). Connery’s Bond was smart, clever (unless he was up against Felix Leiter), tough, and, well, incredibly easy on the eyes.

Just hanging out

I lusted after the 1962 version of Connery in 1990. There, I said it. But he wasn’t the only thing that made Dr. No a really good movie. The plot was discernible (people, if you’ve seen Bond movies since then, you know what I’m talking about), the opening sequence (both the music and the action) was contemporary and even bordered on suspenseful, and Jamaica, while being both fun and cosmopolitan, made sense as a location for all kinds of nefarious activity in the ex-pat community.

The Bond Girl by which all others are measured

And...Ursula Andress did not suck as the Good Bond Girl. Yes, yes, yes, her character's name is Honey Ryder (get it???), she’s only half-dressed for the majority of the movie, and she’s one of Bond’s more naive companions. (And, as an aside, I’m probably not the only one who spent a couple of years comparing my body to hers.) But she could also take care of herself, beyond being willing to draw a knife on Bond when she met him. When she told him how she slowly killed her rapist with a poisonous spider, even he was taken aback.

Dr. No was an almost perfect Bond movie, so of course everything that followed suffered a little bit by comparison. And sadly, it must be said that the late Roger Moore changed Bond, and not for the better. His movies made Bond seem a hell of a lot more cerebral than he had been before, but not in the good way. And the camp factor was off the charts; I’m talking Adam West’s Batman campiness, you know? Having seen Moore in The Saint, I continue to scratch my head about the choices the writers and producers made: he had a proven ability to be suave, smart, and scrappy/street fighter tough. He could have been a really great Bond, but instead he’s the one we associate with the cringiness of the franchise.

So much potential

One of the worst Bonds ever made, on so many different levels

My enthusiasm for the two Bonds who followed was hampered as much by low expectations as it was by the times they were made in. Timothy Dalton is another actor who has done a really good job in many other things (if you haven’t already seen him in Hot Fuzz, stop reading this and go watch it right now), but the tone of his Bond was off; it was almost as if he was pushed a little bit to the background of the movies. And while I loved Pierce Brosnan on Remington Steele (when is someone going to revive that?), they also played him a little too campy and sarcastic. The fierce and deadly factor Connery brought to the screen was gone.

We are not screwing around anymore

And then it wasn’t. I have to admit, I didn’t have high hopes when I heard that Daniel Craig was cast as the next Bond, but maybe that’s why I’ve been so happy with him. Let’s agree that while  they got rid of a lot of the camp they might have done it at the expense of the character’s humor; now let’s say that in the times we live in maybe we don’t have the luxury of laughing at messy world relations. Bond and the rest of MI6 are taking their jobs very seriously now, and Craig’s version of the character is deadly, haunted, and ready to pounce at any moment.

She almost can't be called a Bond Girl

This is the first time we’ve gotten a close look at the psyche of Bond, and it’s about as pretty as you’d expect for an assassin. And while this Bond sleeps around about as much as the others, his romantic entanglements are likelier to get under his skin. His affair with the doomed Vesper Lynd (Eva Green) was intense (and convincing) enough that we can understand why it took three more films to exorcise her.

This is also the first time I’ve been enthusiastic about his whole team. M (first Judi Dench, then Ralph Fiennes), Q (Ben Whitshaw), and even Moneypenny (Naomie Harris) are badass on their own, and they put Bond in his place a little more forcefully than their predecessors. Good. And even Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright) is bringing more force and complexity to the role than we’ve seen since, well, Jack Lord’s version.

The films haven’t been perfect: there’s something a little too serious and dark about some of the last few, to the point where it feels like they’re trying to be “better” than a Bond film with all of the psychosis. Just be Bond, that’s all we want.

Bond’s an example of something that started strong out of the gate and then lost focus before it got it back. On the other hand, Battlestar Galactica is something that started out in the Seventies with silly written all over it and then found its footing decades later to be the great show we always believed it could be.

One big happy family...

The premise for both the Seventies and Aughts version is the same: a small group of pantheistic human beings have just barely escaped annihilation (dare we say, genocide?) at the hands of the Cylons, a race of robots or cyborgs that humans built but quickly lost control of, assisted by the treacherous Gaius Baltar. The best promise for what’s left of the human race is the mythical planet Earth, and Captain Adama is in charge of finding it while he evades Cylon attempts to finish their job.

The Seventies version made it one season, and it was foolish very quickly. There was a lot of emphasis on cute robots and pets, cameos (e.g., Fred Astaire!), and clunky standalone plots that were reminiscent of the third season of Star Trek: The Original Series. It was an example of something that showed a lot of promise and got a lot of buzz, but by the time it was canceled many viewers were already done.

but they might kill each other before the Cylons can

By contrast, the rebooted BSG was uncomfortable to watch from the first episode on, when newly installed President Laura Roslin (Mary McDonnell) chose to abandon several ships so the rest of the fleet could escape. In this reboot, Gaius Baltar (James Callis) had no idea that he was dealing with the Cylons—in part because his contact was a gorgeous woman, Six (Tricia Helfer). Finding out that the Cylons now looked like humans added an element of suspense throughout the series, especially as we tried to figure out the identities of the last five “models”. Trying to figure out what the Cylons really wanted (“the plan”) was also a big hook, never mind that one of the executive producers recently admitted that they didn’t really have a master plan. The truth was that they wanted many things, and chief among them was to be able to create new models: i.e., have children.

You don’t run a compelling series strictly on the back of protagonist and antagonist. The humans were frequently at cross-purposes with each other, whether it was murky family dynamics (Captain Bill Adama was an absentee father to Commander Lee “Apollo” Adama), personal demons (the only person more screwed up than Colonel Saul Tigh was Lieutenant Kara “Starbuck” (!) Thrace), and messy relationships (Callie loves Galen, who loves Sharon, who’s really a Cylon, and one of her copies, Athena, loves Helo; Kara and Lee have been fighting feelings for each other since she was his late brother’s fiancee; Gaius is so obsessed with Six that she comes to him in prophetic visions; Tigh’s wife Ellen frequently carouses with other men, in part because he’s always been more devoted to his job—and Bill—than he is to their marriage; etc.). And then there was the dizzying politics and philosophy: President Roslin and Captain Adama’s (Edward James Olmos) frequent clashes over the best course for their people; Roslin’s decision to fix an election to stop Baltar and then her subsequent confession; terrorist-turned-vice president-turned-terrorist Tom Zarek (the late Richard Hatch, who played Apollo in the original version); the question of whether terrorism was justified when a colony was overrun by Cylons; and whether torture is justified when it’s a matter of life and death (watch the award-nominated episode "Pegasus" before you answer). And that’s just some of it.

It was a show that asked uncomfortable, timely questions, and that’s why so many of us couldn’t stop watching (Portlandia captured perfectly what happened to me and my husband one weekend). There were a lot of complaints about the ending, and maybe it was wrapped in too neat a bow, but it was still something I loved so much that I’ve forgotten how much the original disappointed me.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know in the comments what you think of old and new Bond and BSG in the comments, and then head on over to Jami for the last edition of the Bring Back That Lovin’ Feelin’ blog hop.

The Bringing Back That Lovin’ Feelin’ Blog Hop

Earlier this year, a couple of friends and I talked about old loves we needed to walk away from. As much as I'm a strong believer in moving on, I also love a good reunion story, so we're taking a stab at things we ultimately couldn't keep away from later in August.

Some things get better with age...after they get, you know, worse

Here's the schedule below. Watch this space for details, visit these guys and say hi, and let us know what you loved, lost, and then regained.

Morgan: 8/26

Kerrie: 8/27

Caroline: 8/28

Deb: 8/29

Jami: 8/30

When the magic is gone: The I've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' Blog Hop

Thanks to Lanea Stagg for starting us off yesterday!

As for me, I'm a sentimental fool. Part of why Marie Kondo’s “spark joy” mantra was so life-changing is that my inclination is to keep things around me because of what they used to mean to me, never mind what they do for me in the here and now. So to be given permission to let something go without guilt is the most liberating thing I can think of.

Admittedly, this orientation brings me a little less joy when it comes to entertainment. Oh, how I love to grab a hot chocolate (LOL, hot chocolate when February brings a 68 degree day…) and let myself fall into an old favorite for a few hours. Why can’t everything just stay good?

A few months ago, I decided that I needed to watch Lawrence of Arabia. Having interviewed the author of a fabulous book about Lawrence a few years ago, I knew that the movie actually got a lot right, and there’s something to be said for accuracy in historical fiction. Yeah...and that’s why I could no longer abide Alec Guinness as Prince Faisal, Anthony Quinn as Auda, and Jose Ferrer as the Turkish Bey who assaulted Lawrence. All three are amazing actors, but after watching this film a number of times, I finally couldn’t get past them in what I’ll call Desert Tan Face. The fact that they’re in the same movie as the magnificent Omar Sharif only made it more difficult; even in the 1960s, there were known and talented actors from that part of the world. And considering what the story of T.E. Lawrence is really about—a sideshow to a sideshow can, in fact, have epic consequences, especially when mixed with a little noblesse oblige—it feels extra special wrong to have those actors playing those parts.

No

No

That's not insulting at all...

Well, there’s always the 1950s, and specifically 1950, which saw Born Yesterday, Sunset Boulevard and All About Eve (among many others). I was feeling like I needed a sassy, classy woman to guide me through my day, so obviously no one but Bette Davis could fit the bill. And since All About Eve was crowned winner in the 1951 Oscar race and I’d loved it before, I couldn’t go wrong.

Except of course I could. Maybe I’ve seen too many modern movies or just too much television, but Bette Davis, as incredible as she is, was over the top and not always in a good way. Her insecurities about being an aging woman are, sadly, as apropos today as they were sixty years ago, but Margo Channing’s diva act grated on my nerves. Not, however, enough to root for Eve Harrington, who was a masterful manipulator only because the weaknesses she had to exploit were so close to the surface of her victims, not because she was particularly brilliant. I can’t decide whether it’s Anne Baxter’s acting or the writing that made Eve’s scene with Addison DeWitt so unbelievable the second time around, but I cringed watching it.

On the plus side, Marilyn Monroe didn't make me wince

As I rued the expense of the two films I’d rented, I realized that this wasn’t the only time I’ve walked away from something I loved. When I was a high school sophomore, I thought The Scarlet Letter was the most thought-provoking book I’d ever read. The characters! The plot! The obsession with good, evil, and repentance! The ill-fated love between Hester and Roger! (And did I mention that Nathaniel Hawthorne was hot?) Be still my fifteen year old heart. So when I was assigned the book the next year at a different school, I was ecstatic...and then horribly disappointed. For whatever reason, the person who taught that book couldn’t stand the structure of the way it was written and seemed to feel that Hawthorne was obsessed with everything dark. Perhaps he was, but it was painful to sit through lessons taught by someone who couldn’t see anything redeeming about it. Since then, I haven’t been able to pick up the book again, and that’s probably when I began my policy to never re-read a book.

Sadly, the list of things I “can’t even” continues to grow. The soundtrack of Camelot? There’s, like, two songs I still like, and am I supposed to listen to them in an infinite loop? West Side Story? My twentieth time through, and I start wondering why the story couldn't have been Riff and Bernardo teaming up against those d-bags, Schrank and Krupke.

This is the couple I really mourn

And *deep breath* the last few times I've watched Star Trek: The Original Series, I've been genuinely upset over the number of stories they needed to shoehorn into existing costumes and sets, because a lot of times they didn't work that well. And then I watch some of my favorite episodes from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and I think Avery Brooks and Terry Farrell could have used a little more direction in their more dramatic scenes. There, I said it.

This was just stupid

Sisko was more dramatic than Kirk sometimes...

What we do is part of our identity, but so is what we love. It’s disconcerting—depressing, even—to not only fall out of love, but to change the standards by which we fall in love. (Maybe ST doesn’t do it for me anymore because I don’t think repressed, snarky guys like Spock are as hot as I used to.) Bear with me as I recalibrate.

Have you dropped anything you used to love? Want to defend West Side Story? Either way, let me hear from you in the comments below, and don't forget to catch Keri tomorrow (full schedule can be found here).

The #TwisterBlogHop Schedule

Totally excited to see what my fellow author-bloggers have in store for Twister Blog Hop! Here's who you can expect, when and where (don't worry, I'll remind you):

Caroline Fardig: 11/24

Aaron Deckard: 11/25

Melissa Amster: 11/27

Kerrie Olzak: 11/30

Jami Deise: 12/1

Me: 12/2

Knowing this crowd, it's going probably going to be nuts, but...this nuts?

Old Boy (2003) Even if you see *the* twist coming, the rest of it will still make your head spin

Stay tuned!