“Take My Life, Please,” featured two new aspects: Hi-Def and a new Opening. Bart tells us in the blackboard that hi-def is worth every penny, but the Simpsons’ hi-def tv falls off the wall when they try to watch it.

But how’s the new opening, you ask? Fabulous. For those who miss the old one, you probably don’t even remember the old one. If you look at the original, it’s very different from what you’ve been seeing for over a decade. It’s longer. (And you may be surprised to know that not every episode even had an opening–for time’s sake, etc.)

The new opening gives us a new gag–the billboard in front of Bart’s school changes, as does Bart’s writing and the couch routine.

It’s great to see some of our current favorite characters (like the cat lady) in the opening. And Marge’s purchases at the store are updated to include tomacco and Mr. Sparkle detergent. (Maggie’s price has also been updated to reflect the amount it takes to raise an infant for a month in today’s economy.)

As far as the episode goes, “Take My Life, Please” features Homer going through an interesting mid-life (he’ll die young, we know it) crisis. Homer learns that he was supposed to be class president and believes that his life would have been superior to what he has. It’s classic Homer angst–rather than blaming his current life on his choices, he can pinpoint one decision (made by someone else).

“How the Test Was Won” had a fabulous couch gag, featuring the Simpsons as characters in classic sitcoms, showing a fine lineage (including the family sitcom’s move to the workplace/friend sitcom a la Cheers).

The episode itself was a critique of No Child Left Behind and standardized testing (the best moment is when Mrs. Krabapple teaches the students the most common test answer arrays (abbadaca, etc)).

The Simpsons has been renewed for two more seasons, which will make it the longest-running prime time series. At least once a week, I come across some blog or article that asks if The Simpsons still has it. Denise came across an idea the other day that it was the audience who has lost it, not The Simpsons. I agree–if anything’s tired, it’s us.

In other words, Simpsons, it’s us, not you. Which is why we’ll do everything we can to make this work.

Last night I went to the opera.  Figaro was my first.  When I was in theatre, we would make fun of opera–too much singing, too little acting, but I had to go, especially when the chance presented itself.

I enjoyed it, but I have to say that sometimes the art of the singing did get in the way of the plot/acting.  I was taken out of the moment each time a character told another to whisper (because they were hiding) AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS. 

I was also taken out of the moment by the incessant tapping of shoes.  The man seated behind me kept tapping both of his squeaky shoes (not in time to the music).

There were a surprising number of kids at the show (and the show went past 11:30).  One was seated to my right and in the fourth act, she got tired enough to need to whisper a lot.  She wasn’t rude, though–her mother was.  She decided that her tired little girl needed to leave the theatre before everyone else, so she waited until the last line to leave.  So I didn’t see the last line, I was too busy standing up to let her pass.  I sat down just in time for the curtain to fall.

The last rude thing of the show–the director came out and bowed with the cast.  WTF?  Who does that?  Is that an opera thing?  No wonder we theatre people made fun of them.  Our directors are pretentious off-stage, not on.

But the winner of the rudest person of the week contest:  Richard Williamson.  Yes, our favorite Holocaust-denying Bishop is back.  (Did you know that he hates The Sound of Music, not because its pap, but because it portrays Nazis in a bad light?  Seriously.)  He issued an apology and the Vatican has said it’s not good enough.

He said:  “Observing these consequences I can truthfully say that I regret having made such remarks, and that if I had known beforehand the full harm and hurt to which they would give rise, especially to the Church, but also to survivors and relatives of victims of injustice under the Third Reich, I would not have made them.”

Karma’s quick translation:  If I’d known everybody was going to get upset, I wouldn’t have said it.  (Note that he doesn’t say he was wrong.)

He also said:  “On Swedish television I gave only the opinion… of a non-historian, an opinion formed 20 years ago on the basis of evidence then available and rarely expressed in public since.

“However, the events of recent weeks and the advice of senior members of the Society of St Pius X have persuaded me of my responsibility for much distress caused. To all souls that took honest scandal from what I said before God I apologise.”

Karma’s quick translation:  Twenty years ago, I think we were all agreed that the Jews were overexaggerating things and I haven’t learned anything since then.  The Church has ordered me to say I’m sorry, so I am.  Saying it.

1988?  I think we all knew about the gas chambers in 1988 (I did, and I was 13) and it’s the gas chambers that he’s really not convinced about.

Note: no one from the Church is asking him to recant any of the sexist bullshit he believes or even make him agree to Vatican II.

Finally saw Slumdog Millionaire.  I have to agree with the prevailing opinion–I liked it. 

I’ve heard two major criticisms of the film.  One is the people are bored with the “hooker with a heart of gold theme”; unfortunately, I think that for people born into the world of the characters, women are either going to have hearts of gold or be heartless.  Are there spaces in between–probably.  But don’t think for a minute that the women won’t be hookers.  Seen Born Into Brothels yet?

The other debate raging is whether Slumdog is “mainstream.”  Who cares?  Well, someone, I guess, but genre debates don’t do anything for me.  It seems like the only people who would get really worked up about this are those who decide whether they like a film based on those categories of “indie” and “mainstream.”

The film was touching and smart.  Can I believe in a happy ending under the circumstances like those in the film?  No, but I routinely engage in the suspension of disbelief in my media. 

I enjoyed every minute, except those few when the director thought we needed to see a shot we’d just seen again.

I kept thinking, though, about what this film would look like if it were an American movie–a boy from the ghetto gets on Who Wants to be a Millionaire.  As he nears the pinnacle, people suspect him of cheating.  We learn about his horrible, wretched life as we learn about how he knew the answers on the show.

Would this be a story of The American Dream?  Would this be about how if you’re just good and if you work hard enough, you’ll get the millions and the girl (and revenge on the people who waterboarded you)?  Probably.

I’m really glad that this isn’t that movie.  There may be a dream in Mumbai, but it isn’t constructed the same way ours is.  This movie is really great in that it teaches us about the slums of India, but I like it for the mirror it shows.

There are slums here, too.

gotta love faux 70s

Look Around You

–this is a quirky British thing that’s showing on Adult Swim on Cartoon Network. They’re showing two episodes tonight and hopefully they’ll show more. Basically, the show is a parody of those awful films you used to have to watch in middle school about various subjects, but with that British . . . something.

The Simpsons–duh (review of said new episode will be forthcoming tomorrow)

Flight of the Conchords–even if you’ve never seen one, you’ll be fine. One of the best shows ever. Even the minds behind Spaced say so (you’d know this if you’d watch their q&a on the dvd, like I did).

PBS has a documentary on Haiti. Unless you’re Tiffany, you don’t know enough about Haiti, but you really should. This is especially true if you want to know anything about the U.S., because we have shaped Haiti in almost unimaginable ways. If you want to see a piece of that, watch this.

this pic works on so many levels for me

MacHomer, my absolute favorite blending of Shakespeare and Simpsons, is getting a New York run. I’ve seen the play twice (and it’s amazing–pee in your pants funny). It’s postmodern, fun, cultural, and political (some of the jokes change each week).
Readers: have you seen it, do you want to see it, if you’re in New York, how are you going to thank me for telling you to go see it?

Check out the website here:  http://machomer.com/news/56  If you go to the main page, you can see clips of the show!

I read Dead Until Dark before HBO made the fabulous True Blood series.  When the series ended its season, I had a Sookie Stackhouse orgy.  I consumed too much, I admit, but when you bite into something you like, it’s hard to stop.

I recommend the novels if you want some light reading.  I recommend the series more (think about that–I’m arguing for a tv adaptation over a book original–that means they’re doing something right).  As the show is not limited to Sookie’s point of view, you get to see a fuller world and more fleshed out characters–there’s blood in all of them.  Also, I don’t always like Sookie’s point of view.  She tries a bit too hard to be a small town girl.  And I certainly don’t share her opinion that a real man is one who keeps duct tape in his truck (yes–it has to be a truck–Charlene Harris has a type.)

Recommendation aside, here are reasons why you shouldn’t read them all at once:

1.  The books will give you the false impression that all men, once you get to see them naked, are perfectly formed and well endowed, which will lead to disappointment in real life.

2.  Harris has to work a certain amount of exposition into her texts.  As the number of the novels increases, the amount of necessary exposition increases (as we must assume that not all readers will have read or remembered the previous novels).  If you read quickly, you will be annoyed by the clumsy and repetitive moves.

3.  You will also start to resent the fact that Harris constantly has Sookie taking a shower or brushing her teeth after a particularly grueling and gruesome day and always remarks that she feels “almost human” after cleaning up a bit.  It’s not that funny the first time, and definitely not funny any time thereafter.

4.  At one point, the novels start to lose coherence, which is why Harris (or her publisher) finally hired a continuity specialist.  If you read them sparingly, you may just think that you’ve forgotten something (as opposed to realizing Harris has).

5.  The books are light weight reads.  They are for vampire/fantasy fans, not for mystery fans.  Harris does, however, write mystery novels (I haven’t read them).  She includes at least one murder mystery per novel, but the mystery genre is not upheld (nor cleverly subverted) here, and thus, the attempts at it prove frustrating.  The mysteries seem unimportant, unresolved, and unsolvable in some cases.  The “discovery” scenes are merely set up as confessions, often without the pleasure of having any “clues” dropped beforehand for the careful reader to pick up on.  I mean, you can still guess who did it (it’s not the butler, but close), but you can’t deduce/induce it.

There are a few things the books show us, though.

First, we are attracted to the idea that there is something more than we can see in our world.  Even though it may be dangerous, we want to be a part of it.

Second, any exchange of body fluids, be they vaginal, seminal, or arterial (I’m not sure that that’s a word, but respect the parallelism), involves a power play–so be careful (but take a few chances).