Reviews

Trashy guilty-pleasure fun. Star turns by Tom Hollander, Naomi Watts, and Diane Lane; decent performances by the almost unrecognizable Demi Moore, the completely unrecognizable Molly Ringwald (don't be fooled by the photo below), and the completely recognizable, uncharacteristically scenery-chewing Calista Flockhart. (Chloe Sevigny, who I often love, was wooden and forgettable here.)

But this thin little story, built on the tiniest of events -- perfect for a 4-ep miniseries or even a single 90-minute movie --had absolutely NO business being stretched into 8 redundant, repetitive (see what I did there?), tiresome episodes with a needlessly nonlinear structure.

If you're looking for a Spielberg film that is expressly about, and only about, Spielberg, you can't do better than this one. While annoyingly self-indulgent (and not only in its running time), largely unnecessary (in the opinion of everyone except Spielberg-and, presumably, his therapist), and characteristically unsubtle, it does feature some amazing performances and moving scenes, almost all thanks to Michelle Williams. Sadly, there are also far too many over-the-top performances and superfluous scenes. But, hell, if you're co-writing and helming a movie about your own life, I suppose you have artistic license to direct it any way you see fit.

Still, if you're trying to achieve anything close to reality, here are three things you probably shouldn't do, especially in your film's first five minutes: (1) Open with an unnecessarily specific title card - "January 10, 1952" - and then proceed to have your dad character ask your son character, as they're driving home from the movies, "So, Sammy, what do you want for Hanukkah?" (2) As the family arrives home, have Sammy grouse about the fact that his family's house - again, on January 10th - is the only one on the block not decorated with Christmas lights.

(3) Show your characters placing and lighting the candles of their menorah - on that same January night - in the wrong order.

As Judd Hirsch's furniture-chewing Uncle Boris character might say: Oy.

This show is really great! All you have to do is look past the followin

Writing: So obvious and so on-the-nose - and in the case of the words put in the mouths of the cardboard characters played by Christine Baranski (old money good! New money bad!) and Carrie Coons (new money good! Old money bad!), beyond painful. Who'd have thought it possible to feel *embarrassed* for those two acting powerhouses?

Continuity: I'd been wondering when, precisely, the story was set, until episode 2, when Mr. Raikes shows off his knowledge that Central Park's Bethesda Fountain was almost ten years old-thus placing the action in 1873 or 1874. Imagine my surprise, then, when a character in episode 3, which takes place mere days after the conclusion of ep 2, refers to Chester Alan Arthur--who was in office from 1881 to 1885--as the president. Who knew that time travel was a hallmark of the Gilded Age?

Utter pointlessness/greed: All I can imagine was that someone -- I'm looking at you, Julian Fellowes -- thought that what the world (or his own bank account) needed was a Downton Abbey without the charm, opulence, subtlety, or accents of the original, even as the second theatrical sequel of DA was about to be released.

Enjoy!

Last year I whined about season 3 being a lazy retread of season 1. Little could I have imagined then that season 4 would be an even lazier retread -- of seasons 1, 2, and 3.

With one exception -- the Tom twist that ended last season's finale -- there has not been an original idea or surprising occurrence in this series in years. Rather, each week, we're treated to the same unbearable, uninteresting characters (or, to be more accurate, the ever MORE unbearable and ever MORE uninteresting characters), acting out the same soporific storylines. (The kids are at war with Logan? Gosh, I never saw that coming! The Roys are trying -- again -- to buy out the Pierces? Scintillating!). And to make things worse, the show's one appealing character, J. Smith-Cameron's marvelous Gerri, has been allocated a total of 3 minutes of screen time, none of which have provided viewers any reason to care about her, either.

What a waste.

I recognize that this is a comedy, not a documentary.

Still, how can a show that's *so* spot-on in its casting, its writing, ts grasp of the issues roiling 2021 campus life, and (the issue closest to my heart) its understanding of the many ridiculous demands placed on department chairs, be so spectacularly or willfully out-of-touch when it comes to its portrayals of:

• gender disparity (a humanities department that's almost all male -- seriously?),
• age (a faculty with almost no one below retirement age -- seriously?), and, especially,
• costumes (professors wearing suits, ties, or jackets with elbow patches - elbow patches? In the 21st century? Are you f'ing kidding me? -- when teaching or when attending faculty meetings) ?

Seriously?