"On the Lot" is Off the Mark

"On the Lot," the new TV show from realitymeister Mark Burnett and Hollywood legend Steven Spielberg, is the latest attempt to translate the ambition and skills of a particular group of individuals into reality television. The result is entertaining in a rubbernecking, trainwreck sort of way, not so much as a legitimate view into the creative processes of filmmaking.

The premiere episode (which aired Tuesday night after the first night of the "American Idol" finale; the Fox network is no dummy) started with fifty aspirants for the grand prize of a $1 million development deal at Dreamworks Pictures. After an initial task in which each contestant was given a log line for which they had to develop and deliver a pitch, the field was narrowed to 36.

The episode was filled with the kind of reality TV conventions that populate all of Burnett's programs (which include "Survivor" and the now-defunct "The Apprentice"). We got "up close and personal" glimpses at select contestants, including a Texas family man with two kids for whom "On the Lot" is supposedly his "last chance" to make it in Hollywood (he apparently wasn't trying too hard before this if he lives in Texas) and an Indiana boy who is seen strolling along the railroad tracks in his hometown (something I'm sure he really does on a regular basis). We got alternating pulsatingly tense or langorously melancholy accompaniment music, depending on whether the footage being shown was meant to be tense or melancholy. We got dramatic sweeping crane shots of the contestants getting a bus tour of Hollywood and walking along a studio lot. We got contrived stand-up segments in which a contestant discussed their emotions about the proceedings or the details of the task at hand (evidently, reality show contestants just naturally speak in a fashion that effortlessly provides exposition for such matters).

Along with all of this we got ticking clocks (figuratively speaking) as contestants rushed to prepare their pitches, tearful (or, alternately, confident) confessionals from contestants, and earnest platitudes from the three judges (my favorite: film director Garry Marshall wishing, during the contestant pitches, that someone would pitch lunch). Marshall was joined in the adjudicating by fellow director Brett Ratner and Princess Leia herself, Carrie Fisher. Their motivations for participating in such a contrived endeavor are unclear; Marshall and Ratner perhaps owed Spielberg favors, while Fisher, unfortunately, was probably just in need of work.

Traces of Spielberg himself were conspicuously absent from the premiere of "On the Lot," which suggests any number of things: his involvement in the show begins and ends with having lent his name and prestige in exchange for fiduciary gain; he was initially involved but then bailed when it became clear that "On the Lot" was off the rails; or the producers are saving any mention or appearance of the auteur for carefully rationed moments that can by hyped as excessively as his association with the program was during the promotional run-up to the premiere.

One of the chief problems with "On the Lot" is one that has plagued other Burnett productions, especially "The Apprentice." Namely, the tasks and the dynamics of those tasks have no resemblence to how filmmaking actually works or to how these contestants might be asked to practice filmmaking were they to win the grand prize. In both "The Apprentice" and "On the Lot" the flawed formula is the same: contestants are given severely time-limited tasks in which they are forced to work with their competitors to achieve an artificial goal. In "The Apprentice," this meant that contestants butted heads with each other over power and division of labor to accomplish questionable business goals. In "On the Lot," a similar unrealistic dynamic obtains when the aspiring directors are grouped in threes and asked to complete a short film in 24 hours, all while trying to co-direct their project. This task made for some fiery footage of contestants in conflict with one another, but has no resemblence to an actual film set on which the director is also a dictator whose authority is rarely challenged even by studio executives or producers who might have grounds to do so. Also unrealistic is the overnight pitch preparation for concepts that were essentially drawn out of a hat; its hard to imagine both the circumstances under which a film director might be asked to this and also the benefit for the aspirants for having done so.

It's hardly news, though, that reality television isn't realistic. Perhaps "On the Lot" will get better as the summer weeks go by, but I'm not holding my jodphurs in hopes that it will. A few more weeks down the road the contestants will at least begin working as solo directors rather than as one-third of a director, like they did in the premiere. Hopefully it has occurred to the producers that at some point they ought to actually show the home audience some (all?) of the films that the contestants have been making. And, maybe, just maybe, Spielberg will show his face at some point during the competition--although if he's smart, he'll remain off the lot.

Pop Goes the Culture: Retro & Nostalgia

Feeling Retro -- Vintage toys, '60s & '70s TV and pop music, food & drink, novelties, and links to other retro sites are all available here if you are "feeling retro." www.feelingretro.com

Retrocrush -- An irreverant retro site with features, interviews, reviews, and photos on all variety of pop culture subjects, with a companion podcast to boot. www.retrocrush.com

The Retroist -- Video clips of old TV shows and commercials, scans of print ads and ephemera, and links to a variety of retro folderol come to us courtesy of The Retroist. www.retroist.com

Tick Tock Toys -- More than just toys, with galleries of vintage cereal boxes and food packaging, fast food ephemera, advertising art, cartoon characters, and obscure theme parks. theimaginaryworld.com

Can You Tell Me How to Get, How to Get to Sesame Street Old School?

Recently released on DVD is Sesame Street - Old School, Vol. 1 (1969-1974), a compilation of old episodes and segments from the first five years of the venerable and historic children's TV program. Rather than marketing it to current tots, the show's producer (the former Children's Television Workshop, now called Sesame Workshop) and distributor (Sony Wonder, the children's video imprint of media giant Sony) have smartly aimed the set at the nostalgiac yearnings of Gen Xers now in their thirties or early forties. The results are a treasure trove of 1970s kidvid kitsch.

The set features one episode from each of the first five seasons of "Sesame Street"--starting with the premiere episode from fall 1969. Although some evolution in the show is evident across all the episodes featured, the biggest changes come between the premiere and the second season. The fact that Oscar the Grouch was originally orange and that Big Bird's head was originally a tiny little pebble atop his big body have become standard "Sesame Street" trivia (at least among the Gen X set that might be interested in this set). But the premiere episode also shows that later cast mainstays Luis, Maria, and David are not yet residents of Sesame Street, the show's set is laid out somewhat differently than in later years (123 Sesame Street and Hooper's Store are aligned with each other rather than being kiddy-corner--no pun intended--as they later are).

Apart from these cosmetic differences, though, the program exhibits from the beginning a remarkably developed sense of mission and consistent quality of execution. The show's mission was in fact remarkably developed in advance of the premiere episode, exemplified by one of the gems of this DVD set: the "sales" film created by CTW (and featuring "Sesame Street" creator Joan Ganz Cooney) explaining the show to public television executives and station managers. With an introduction by Cooney, the film features Muppets Kermit the Frog and Rowlf the Dog as Rowlf describes the various elements of the show to Kermit in an attempt to convince Kermit that the Muppets should appear on it. The fact that Kermit and Rowlf--two of Jim Henson's characters that predate "Sesame Street"--are the only Muppets to appear (apart from a few of what would later be called "Anything Muppets") has to mean that this sales film was made at an early enough stage that the other Muppets that would appear on "Sesame Street" (Ernie, Bert, Oscar, etc.) had not yet been created.

Also appearing in the sales film are a couple of the filmed segments that would become "Sesame Street"'s bread and butter. These were the little segments (many of them animated) that featured different numbers and letters of the alphabet. In addition to the sales film, a few dozen of these segments are also included on the set's special features, with several from each of the first five seasons. (Three of these are featured in the video links below.) The mix of live "street" segments (with a mix of human actors and Muppets), Muppet "vignettes" (usually without human actors and not on the main street set), animated and live-action filmed segments, and special segments featuring celebrity guest stars was established with the very first episode and remained virtually unchanged for the show's first few decades. Many of the filmed segments and even many of the Muppet vignettes (things like Kermit's "News Flash" bits and the Guy Smiley game show parodies) were reused repeatedly, almost ad nauseum. Several of the segments featured in the last couple of years of this set (originally shown when I was 2 or 3 years old) I remember seeing when I was a "Sesame Street" regular in the late-1970s and early-1980s.

Whether driven to Sesame Street - Old School, Vol. 1 (1969-1974)by an interest in TV history or simply by nostalgiac impulses, the DVD set should offer something of interest.

The Ladybugs' Picnic


My Martian Cutie


Martians & Telephone


(Image source: Amazon; video source: YouTube)

The OscarLog: Observations on the 79th Academy Awards

Last night was the 79th Academy Awards, in which Hollywood goes ga-ga over itself and the rest of us watch curiously as if witnessing a train wreck. This year's awards reached, I think, a new high in terms of indulgence, cluelessness, and uselessness. From the best picture winner and the hosting to the interminable length and utterly pointless non-awards segments, the Oscars were a spectacle, just not the good kind.

Let me begin with the hosting: Now, Ellen Degeneres has built (and rebuilt) her reputation by being inoffensive, harmless, and utterly safe for general consumption. In most of her endeavors--her current daytime talk show, her other hosting duties (namely, the Emmys), and her ad appearances for American Express--these qualities have served her well and formed the foundation of her success. They are her persona as an entertainer.

As an Oscar host, though, Ellen's otherwise endearing qualities were the formula for a totally bland and boring performance. A good 21st Century Oscar host serves as a counterpoint to the proceedings by providing sharp repartee, bold barbs, and a puncturing levity that deflates the pompousness, self-importance, and endless indulgence that have become inherent to the Academy Awards. A good 21st Century Oscar host acts as a slightly unpredictable and unhinged figure against the ground of overly saccharine and plodding indulgence that characterizes modern Oscar ceremonies.

Degeneres simply didn't fulfill these functions. She was unremarkable and overly accommodating. Rather than make gentle but prickly fun of the personages assembled, she pandered to them and seemed over eager to allow the self-importance and pompousness that prevails. Her interstitial segments suffered from a lack of ingenuity and an oversupply of nicety. Recent hosts such as Chris Rock (two years ago) and Jon Stewart (last year) who didn't seem so great at the time seem like skilled Oscar MCs compared to Degeneres. And don't get me started on how she pales in comparison to venerables like Whoopi Goldberg, Billy Crystal, and Steve Martin.

It's difficult for any Oscar host to grapple with the twin problems of excessive length and excessively uninteresting program segements. I am annually amazed at how the producers and network for the Oscars are unable either to keep the ceremony's length under control or to at least predict it accurately. It ought to be a simple matter for the producers to calculate how long the ceremony is going to last based on the lengths of the rehearsed performance segments, the award presentations and speeches, and the allotted commercial breaks. Add up these times, and you've got the length of the program. Last night's show started at 7:30 (CST) and ended at approximately 11:15. It was scheduled to end at 10:30. Presumably, the producers and network know that there's no way the show is going to be done at 10:30, so why pretend that it will?

The only unscripted element in the entire Oscarcast is the acceptance speeches, and the Academy seems hellbent on limiting their time so that the next pointless performance segment can be squeezed in. As far as I'm concerned, let the award winners speak their mind and their heart, and eliminate prescripted segments if necessary. I'm not saying let winners ramble forever, just let them get those last few heartfelt thank yous out in what might be the only such opportunity of their careers. Not just for the "stars" either; many of the most interesting acceptance speeches end up being the ones by people no one has ever heard of.

By the time the broadcast gets to the Best Picture award, it has been going on so long, and everyone watching--at home and in the Kodak Theatre--just wants the damn thing to end so badly, that the final and most important award runs the risk of being anticlimactic. Usually, the identity of the winner and the resultant festivity and speech is engaging enough that it provides a final boost to the proceedings--whether the Best Pic winner is the anointed favorite (as it is most of the time) or a surprise winner (like "Crash" last year).

This year, the awarding of Best Picture to "The Departed" was truly an anticlimax and a show-capping disappointment. Out of a weak field, "The Departed" was a choice that almost no one was excited about. The lack of excitement within the theatre was palpable. The fact that there was a sole producer onstage when normally there are a good half-dozen made it seem even more pathetic. I don't understand why the Academy doesn't allow everyone connected with the Best Picture winner to congregate onstage, as the TV academy does with its best drama and comedy winners. To deny Martin Scorsese, shown just offstage in the wing after having won Best Director, the chance to at least stand in honor of his film was a travesty. Imagine the boost in energy if Scorsese, Nicholson, Wahlberg, Di Caprio, and any others connected with the film (such as Oscar-winning editor Thelma Schoonmaker) had been allowed to join in on stage. Instead, we got a fittingly uninteresting anticlimax to what was the worst Oscar telecast in recent memory.