A few more capsules from a nameless website
by Rolf Hochhuth
A great (if unwieldy) play on a subject of devastating importance
It may be difficult to imagine how one would stage this play effectively: it's length is prohibitive and it moves around from location to location, each described in great, novelistic detail by the playwright, and utterly impractical in a theatrical context. But it's a riveting, rigorously intelligent and utterly damning take on Pius's unforgivable reticense regarding the Holocaust. What with the Vatican's continued talk of canonizing Pius—in spite of its much-ballyhooed (by the Vatican only) talk of repentence for centuries of murderous anti-Semitism—this is a timely play and should be read widely.
—July 5, 2005
Boomtown: Season One
DVD
Best new series since Homicide
Whatever you think about Homicide getting cancelled, you at least have to acknowledge that the brass at NBC did right by it for as long as they could in the face of its poor ratings. The current realities of network television don't seem to allow for such such partisanship. Schematic cop shows (i.e., the Law & Order and CSI franchises) are easy to sell; something different, deeper—better—not so easy. Viewers prefer the realtive comfort of shows which, hoewever disturbing their content, resolve themselves neatly within the 60-minute time frame. And so NBC knocked off not only its best show since Homicide (which I argue was the finest drama in the history of the medium) but anyone's best show. The creative team behind Boomtown was determined to exploit the medium in refreshing ways. I hate that phrase "It was too good to last" but in this case, it seems to have been true. Too good for viewers, and much too good for the suits to recognize its unique virtues.
—February 22, 2005
The Phantom Tollbooth
VHS
Chuck in Wackyland
You can easily imagine how Norton Juster's whimsical, punning, and perfectly logical book might have appealed to Chuck Jones (his adaptation of Juster's The Dot and the Line had won an Oscar.) Parts of this occasionally doleful transfer are effective, and the vocal talent is impeccable: Mel Blanc, Hans Conreid, June Foray. But the musical score is almost unbelievably poor (Leonard Maltin's capsule review refers to the songs as "icky"), the character designs pale in comparison with the nifty pen-and-inks Jules Feiffer drew for Juster's book, and Jones's Milo runs his hand through his forelock so often you want to break his wrist. Worth seeing, for Juster's admirers and Chuck Jones fanatics. But only once.
—November 20, 2003
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