Tuesday Thing: The Return of Ellis St. Joseph, part 1 of 2: less-serious stuff

This week, we continue with a look at the work of author/screenwriter Ellis St. Joseph, who (among other things) wrote two episodes of the TV show "Batman."  There was a tradition of changing over from one villain to another, and St. Joseph wrote the changeover from Catwoman to Sandman. The YouTube video below has some details on that.

 

   

I ended last week's audio post (found HERE) by saying that St. Joseph wrote some skilled work but that he also wrote for money. For instance, the screenplay for this unfortunate film with John Wayne as the geisha and Eiko Ando as the barbarian. No, wait, the other way around. 

 This week I'm focusing on the pop culture things he did. Here's this week's audio post:

Link to SoundCloud audio

   

 

Here are a couple take-you-back (or old-TV-was-weird) moments to close out today's post.

 

The Outer Limits: "The Sizxth Finger"

This show -- "The Rogues" -- I never watched. But I really like Nelson Riddle's theme, "From Rogues to Riches."

 

 

TV Themes, A Book & Remembered Music

 by whiteray

Readers of last week’s post here might recall that the list of artists that take up the most space on my hard drive devoted to music included the names of three composers of soundtracks: John Barry (who scored the first swatch of James Bond movies and many other films during a long career), Ramin Djawadi (who scored, among other projects, the Game Of Thrones series), and Trevor Morris (who scored, also among other projects, Vikings, The Tudors and The Borgias). 

I began my listening career in 1964 as a soundtrack nerd, and fifty-eight years later, I still am one. In my mp3 library, I have the soundtrack to many, many films (forty is my first guess), and I have a couple hundred original television themes from series aired in all decades from the 1950s through the 2000s. I also have copies of many albums by famed popular conductors – think of Hugo Montenegro and his ilk – offering cover versions of famous television themes. The number of original versions and cover versions likely approaches five hundred, at a guess.

(I mentioned last week the search functions of the RealPlayer, the software I use to keep track of and play mp3s. When I searched this morning for “tv,” among the results was a listing that reminded me how wide-ranging and sometimes odd my musical interest are, as the RealPlayer offered in its findings the 1998 album Beyond The River: Seasonal Songs of Latvia, finding the “tv” in “Latvia.”) 

I’ve not watched all the related television shows, of course. I think I likely watched less TV during my childhood than did my peers; I was always a few steps behind in hallway and lunchtime conversations about TV. (The same held true for talk of music, too. On the other hand, had my peers in, say, August of 1968 ever asked me what I thought about the invasion of Czechoslovakia by the Warsaw Pact, I would have been in good shape.) The same held true for my college years and adult life. I had music to listen to, news to read, and things to write, and – as an adult – I sometimes had work, which we’ll get to in a bit. 

So, what do I do with five hundred television themes? Some days when I am involved in my tabletop baseball and want music in the background, I ask the RealPlayer for television themes (on other days I’ll ask for music from 1970 or music tagged “classical” or some other category) and let the music roll. I hear things I recall, like the majestic main theme from the relatively recent The West Wing, and I hear things I likely have not heard for years, like the theme to Branded, the mid-1960s western detailing the adventures of a cavalry officer (Chuck Connors) dismissed from the service for cowardice. 

All of this came to mind because the other week, I found a copy of The Winds of War, the 1971 Herman Wouk novel, at one of our local thrift stores. I recalled reading the Reader’s Digest condensed version of the book when it came out, and I thought that even after more than half a century, it might be a good idea to read the whole thing. (I did read the full version of Wouk’s sequel, War & Remembrance, when it came out in 1978.) 

And as I’ve been reading The Winds of War, I’ve been pondering the eighteen-hour miniseries of the book that was aired in early February 1983. At the time, I was working as a reporter in Monticello, Minnesota, and not every evening was my own. Mondays, I had city council meetings, either in Monticello or nearly adjacent Big Lake; Tuesdays brought newspaper paste-up; Thursdays, Fridays and maybe Saturdays brought sports events to cover. I don’t remember how much of those eighteen hours of The Winds of War I saw in 1983. (Conversely, when the television version of War & Remembrance ran in November 1988 and May 1989, I think I saw all thirty hours, as I was teaching at a university and no longer required to work nights.) 

And, as I’ve pondered in recent weeks the miniseries The Winds of War, I’ve also thought again about the score for the miniseries written by Bob Cobert. I remembered the first time I heard the series’ main theme, likely during a promo for the miniseries, as I was not paying attention to the television. The first few strains of the main theme caught my attention, and my head jerked toward the television to see what the music was. 

When I got a chance to get to a piano – back then, I did not have my own keyboard – I worked out the chords, although I do not ever remember playing the piece for anyone. I wondered about a soundtrack but did not seek it out (probably for financial reasons). And years later, when I went out on the ’Net, I was lucky enough to find at a music-sharing site a version of the theme to The Winds of War recorded by an orchestra from Cincinnati and, a few years later, the original version. 

And now that nearly everything ever recorded is available at YouTube – well, not quite, but it feels that way – I can listen to all the tracks released as the score to that 1983 miniseries. And I’ll begin hearing them again, as well, later this week as I watch the miniseries on discs I’ve begun to reserve at the local library.

Here’s the main theme. I find it as stirring in 2022 as I did in 1983.

Sundries

If I were to buy the house, I'd want part of the deal to be that every minute of every day since its foundation was laid, to be experientially included in the contract. Walking up and down the street I'd keep tabs on the progress, stopping in the shops and having my coffee while inhaling the roasting hops from the nearby brewery. I'd find a a shady spot to watch the workmen laying the bricks, leveling the window frames. Soon the house would be ready and I'd buy a rocking chair so I could sit in the front window and watch the world go by. When it got dark the lantern light would glow yellow and gold on the newly laid floor, birds making soft sounds from their roosts as they ready for sleep.

Of course I'd have to step back into the present, drive my car to work. Earn a paycheck. But any chance I'd get I'd sit right down in that chair by the front window, and spy on the 1930's, the 1950's, 1966. What fun it would be to take the day off on my actual birthday. I'd sit there all day, except to run down the street, buy a Coca Cola in a little green bottle for old times sake,  shake salted peanuts into it, and drink it down, icy cold. And I'd go get the newspaper and check the prices at the grocery stores. Read who got married, who died. Work the crossword puzzle.

Really, I think this idea is so good that I should run at least this part of the world: Real estate.

Art Genre: Pointillism - Esther

To be perfectly honest, I wanted to look at Pointillism this week because I’ve got a bookmarked internet page on my phone I want to get rid of. Despite its deep cleverness & influence, Pointillism is not one of my go-to art genres. It’s one of these “bridging” movements/techniques. I like it when I see it applied in places I’m not expecting & when you can have a properly close look, it’s ingenious. But I’m a monochrome fiend at heart & all those colours are sometimes hard going.

In essence, Pointillism is dots. Millions of dots. They’re painted close together & depend on the viewer’s eye & brain to merge them into lines & form. Divisionism is a similar technique that relies more heavily on colour theory (as well as broader brush marks) & how our eye works to blend the hues, but the two are linked. Like Impressionism, the name Pointillism was initially used as an insult but has grown out of that into an everyday art movement name. Impressionism paved the way for its younger Pointillist sibling.

Quite a long time ago, I read about Betty Acquah somewhere. I’m pretty sure it was my partner that pointed out her work, perhaps on the WomensArt page on Twitter (recommended) but I bookmarked a search on Betty, vowing to get her into a blog at some point (no pun intended). The other day I decided it was high time she did. 

I was mostly struck by the fact that anyone was still bothering to use pointillist techniques anymore. It’s been superseded by so many other methods that it surprised me to see people still going to such effort. So as a salute to Betty’s relentless & frankly incredible technique, I’m starting with her. The Pointillists might not have had a blog here without her…

Betty Acquah (b. 1965), Ghana

Child at Heart I (c. 2020?)

Wherever you look, Betty is dubbed a “feminist painter.” That’s fine & it’s very clear she celebrates Ghanaian women in her work, but labels like that are often shorthand for dismissing someone’s ability in favour of their political “agenda.” Many artists of all media have been shoved down that staircase & we know how the art world has loved shelving women in the past. Anyway, one of the greatest of Betty’s achievements as an artist is her ability to create movement on canvas. She takes pointillist techniques a step further on by lengthening the dots into small strokes. This & her knowledge of how colour works enables her to give the impression of her dancers moving. We can see similarities to Vincent van Gogh’s paintings although usually he was depicting emotion rather than movement, to often queasy effect.

Georges Seurat (1859-1891), France

Le Bec du Hoc, Grandchamp (1885)

It was Seurat & Signac that began this whole Neo-Impressionist movement. The works have an illustrative look to them because sometimes the result of using the technique is more defined outlines. Seurat’s paintings are certainly the ones I think of when I think of pointillism for instance “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte” or “Bathers at Asnières”. I always have to look up the titles - you’d know them if you saw them. That said, “Le Bec du Hoc” is a lovely work & I think land/seascapes like this are the best place for Pointillism.

Paul Signac (1863-1935), France

Portrait of Félix Fénéon (1890)

Signac’s portrait is highly coloured, contemporary & hugely unusual for the time. Relying on pattern & shape as well as the pointillist technique, he has cunningly juxtaposed some colour wheel opposites in the swirling composition. Fénéon himself was an art critic as well as an ally of the Pointillists & coined the phrase Neo-Impressionism.

Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890), Netherlands

Self Portrait (1887)

Sometimes of course, Vincent’s use of pointillist technique is undeniable such as in this stunning & profound self portrait. It’s weary, introspective Vincent rather than struggling, psychedelic Vincent. The technique is used to indicate texture rather than movement or desperate expression. As an exciting aside, Paul Signac & Toulouse Lautrec were friends of Vincent’s & when another artist criticised van Gogh, Toulouse Lautrec challenged him to duel. If Lautrec had lost, Signac was ready to step in. Artistic temperament did not prevail & the cad in question made an apology before swords, pistols or paintbrushes were brandished...

Henri-Edmond Cross (1856-1910), France

L’air du soir (c. 1893)

Another friend of Signac, they aimed to create decorative works to celebrate the beauty of their native land. Here Cross has combined classical content & the setting of the sun, with no attempt to create a realistic image.

Georges Lemmen (1865-1916), Belgium

Plage a Heist (c. 1891-92)

Lemmen’s painting reminds me of those sand pictures you can probably still get. You know the ones: a liquid-filled frame is turned & after the coloured sand inside settles, you have a unique “picture” of the layers. His technique here is not subtle but a couple of years later, he used the method to create a beautiful portrait of Mme Lemmen.

Chuck Close (1940-2021), USA

Lucas I (1986-87)

Although there have been few modern artists using pointillism, Close is perhaps the most famous. His “pixelated” style was developed after he suffered a spinal artery collapse in 1988. To some extent, Andy Warhol did something similar in terms of using dots to create a more photographic style.

Hippolyte Petitjean (1854-1929), France

Le Pont Neuf (c. 1912)

There is something fresh, neat & surprisingly contemporary about Petitjean’s painting of Pont Neuf. On a completely unrelated note, on visiting Paris in the early 1990s, I discovered this particular bridge had the cleanest public toilets I’ve ever used.

Alfred Finch (1854-1930), Belgium/UK

The Road to Nieuport (1888)

Yes. When Pointillism does shadows, it can work so brilliantly, as showcased in Finch’s image. I’d query the accuracy of the sheepdog but otherwise, it’s almost a perfect example. Here, the technique matched with the colour unify the composition & his expert knowledge of perspective (sheepdog notwithstanding) is used to great effect.

Jan Toorop (1858-1928), Netherlands/Indonesia

Portrait of Marie Jeanette de Lange (1900)

This portrait is subtle & beautiful & that’s probably all I need to say about it. Have a good look & let it speak for itself.

What's To Watch? - Jan 28 - Fathers and Stuns

 

     Another pressing week nearly behind me, expecting to be mostly on the edge of a winter storm today into Saturday. Southeast and East of us are expecting much heavier amounts, with the latest calls for coastal areas and up into New England to be facing a "bomb cyclone" of a snowstorm. Here we roll into the final weekend of January, the first twelfth of 2022 soon to be behind us.

     While it appeared a couple weeks ago, it wasn't until this past weekend that I got around to watching the series-capping Ray Donovan: The Movie (Showtime, 1h 40m). I did a preview set-up for it about mid-way through my post for the 14th.

 

     That the final episode of the series aired almost exactly two years earlier, and I skipped my own recommendation of at least rewatching that one to help get me back into the groove of the chaos the Donovan clan was dealing with as of that season-ender, left me initially a little disoriented as the movie

began. That it starts very near the end of the complete story, then variously unfolds both the story that's happened in the present, and one decades in the past when a teenage Ray got his start as a fixer, and made a critical decision concerning his father, Mickey, didn't help my sense of being at sea much. It was past the mid-point of the movie when I finally felt the ground beneath my feet again, with all of the key points refreshed in memory.
     Overall I'll rate it a success, and a story-wrapping finis to arguably the two most key characters in the series. In terms of a human, much less a moral, message, specifically concerning Ray's and Mickey's characters, their actions, and justifications... I'd be interested in talking that through with any other fans of the show once they've watched this series-capper.
     I will say I'm mildly amazed when I read that someone was surprised by the dramatic final plot turn,

though, as it seemed telegraphed a good 40 minutes before the end. I assure you, I'm not one of those  who seem to be in competition with the filmmaker, making a point of pride out of not being fooled or surprised. I generally sit back and enjoy the ride, trying to take it as it comes. This just seemed to have such an obvious dramatic path that it seeing it coming was nearly as simple as predicting the route of a train after watching much of the track laid down. Still, part of that was that it was believably true to the characters, particularly one who'd been so recently traumatized.
     I don't know that Ray Donovan is a series I'm likely to soon go back and rewatch, but I could easily see me doing that at some point. That decision's made easier by knowing that, in the end, we do get a fairly complete life story arc for Ray. A second run through would help place it all more firmly, and hopefully do so without revealing any false leads and mistakes along the way.

    Five episodes in to Peacemaker (HBO Max) and I not only haven't skipped the opening credits dance number, I've rolled back and replayed it once or twice a few times. There are many nice touches in this, all the way down to the little, uncertain, two-step adjustment by Eagly at the very end.

     As for the show itself, it's inane, violent, occasionally obscene fun, they're clearly enjoying themselves, and that's the type of infectious I welcome.
     The titular character was created in 1966, for one of the also-ran comics companies that has come and gone, Charlton Comics. DC (home of Superman, Batman, etc.) bought their IP inventory out years later, though they've only made sparing use of Peacemaker himself. Probably the biggest splash the character made pre-2021 was very indirectly, as Alan Moore used him (along with various of the then newly-acquired properties that DC now owned but didn't know what to do with) as a conceptual template for one of the Watchmen. In a big stretch, that became The Comedian.

     As originally conceived, Peacemaker is a walking, thematic contradiction: a pacifist who loves peace so much he's committed to using force to bring it about. In this DC screen version (set up in 2021's Suicide Squad, where the character was introduced) they just went straight in with a character whose truly awful father raised him as a weapon. Unfortunately, that results in someone who's more parody than human being, a social misfit, which really seems to work for series titular lead, pro wrestler turned actor John Cena, with his hypertrophied, Stretch Armstrong physique.
     In the series we get to explore the details of that along the way, and as we see what a cold, hard, racist, radical-Right bastard his old man (played with a wonderful, hard edge by Robert Patrick) is, we gain some sympathy for Chris Smith, aka Peacemaker. We realize that in contrast to his father, Chris is a much better human being than we should have reason to expect. He's just still chasing the approval of a thoroughly awful father. Much of the hook, for me, is seeing the glimpses of the undeveloped human being, and seeing if and how it connects with and is encouraged by the same in the small band of misfits assembled for this mission. What largely remains to be seen is how far they'll really take the story, as a more satisfying journey of growth would mean diminishing the joke. We know they're going to reel some of this back in, because the popularity of the character is based largely on his behavior, and that includes a great deal of extreme actions, casually taken.
     I haven't reached out to any of my old associates in DC fandom for a reaction to how it's being handled. I'd expect what's being done with secondary character Adrian Chase/Vigilante to be more of an issue for them, as Peacemaker was never really a big DC thing, while that version of Vigilante was loosely akin to DC's version of The Punisher. Nearly all of the '80s comics version's aspects have been radically changed for this screen version, really leaving little more than the names (Adrian Chase/Vigilante), costume, and a mission to confront crime with an excess of firepower. In this tale, we see that Chase is also a character born of bullying abuse, trying to fit a toxically macho ideal, also with the remnants of the abused human being within seeking to fit in and find human connections. Agendas set by supposed adults behind the larger game end up being the real poison pill, so in that respect there's a bitter floor of reality beneath the comic book trappings.
     There are three more episodes to go.

     Speaking of inane levels of violence, and oddly enough continuing an unplanned father and sons theme that's strong in each of the previous two items, this past Saturday HBO debuted Nobody (2021, R, 92m)
     Bob Odenkirk (perhaps best known these days as Saul Goodman, from Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul) stars as a seemingly unremarkable, ordinary, cautious family man, Hutch Mansell, who has allowed himself to be marginalized. His life seems to be a numbing routine of home, exercise and work, with him surrounded by more overtly dominant people. His marriage is strained, and few seem to judge him as anyone of much consequence. A home burglary turned robbery finds him taking a nonviolent path, allowing the masked couple to leave with their petty haul, creating more friction both at home, with his deeply disappointed son, and to the disapproval and barely-concealed mockery of seemingly everyone else, from neighbors to police to co-workers. Even those who tell him he did the right thing for the sake of his family's safety can't help but follow it up with what they would have done had it been their home and family.
     As you may expect, it makes for roughly the first half hour to be a somewhat wearing wind-up, before a final straw is applied to his resolve's back. After that, we begin to see his mask slip.

    Written by Derek Kolstad, the creator of the John Wick franchise, once the violence starts it only expands and intensifies. We not only get to see what the man is capable of, but gradually get his backstory.

     The violence, in large part the punishment the main character not only doles out but takes, soon becomes absurd, so it's not long before we realize there's virtually no ceiling on this violent fantasy outing. Sure, there's blood and fleshy trauma, but none of it is going to do more than lightly, momentarily inconvenience our self-avowed "nobody." The sooner you settle in to the idea that no act of common sense will be allowed to stop this runaway train, the better you'll enjoy it.
     The cast includes Connie Nielsen as Hutch's wife, Christopher Lloyd as his father, living in modest retirement in an assisted living community, Aleksei Serebryakov as the big, bad Russian boss (the piece's main heavy), and rapper/actor/filmmaker NZA in another key role.
     Oh! There is a mid-credits and a post-credits scene.
     No signs so far (at least not in Odenkirk's imdb credit listings) of a greenlit sequel, though Kolstad is reportedly working on a script. As Odenkirk will turn 60 this year, well... it would be an interesting age to be breaking out as an action star.

    This Sunday, Showtime airs the first of a four-part exploration and discussion of Bill Cosby, who he was to so many people, who he turned out to be, and where that leaves the many, many people for whom he had once been a comedy, cultural and social movement icon - especially to the African American community, though it was clear he (the public persona) was almost universally embraced. It's writer/director W. Kamau Bell's We Need To Talk About Cosby.

     Circa 1987, I was in the last job I had before disappearing into the world of geotechnical labs. I was working for a chain video rental store, the deceptively-named West Coast Video (being founded very much on the East Coast), and Cosby's 1983 stand-up (well, it was mostly him sitting in a chair, center of an otherwise empty stage - only getting up occasionally for comic emphasis) special Bill Cosby: Himself, was something that would often get put into the store's VCR. There it would play on the multiple, ceiling-mounted tv's. The store had multiple copies of it, still, by '87, so along with it being

something with broad entertainment value, yet familiar enough that playing it casually wouldn't constitute spoiling anything, there was also some degree of a game in doing so. Inevitably, some of the browsers would be steered by it over to the Comedy section, and add that to their rentals, and it would be a countdown to see when someone, unable to find a copy, would come up to ask and end up renting the copy we were playing. After all, that's what we were there to do.
     Certainly, I understand how many people have found they can no longer look and listen to the man, but I can't just forget how nearly everyone found his routines (much of what was done in that special ended up being mined for sitcom material in his wildly successful family sitcom) funny, and the man himself charming. He was idealized as an exemplar for African Americans, including his decades-long advocacy for higher education, with plenty of specific nods to his own alma mater, Temple U. I'll drop a copy of that special here, from YouTube, as a viewing option. This one appears to be the full special, and has the original audio. Just don't put the captions on unless you read Polish.

     I'm going to be interested to see how the documentary series plays out, as at least a couple

generations of African Americans had this wholesome, yet hip figure welcomed into their homes via tv, and offered as an example for life. Reconciling that, and deciding whether the man's profound moral failings behind the scenes should be allowed to nullify the entertainment and the good he did in that role, remains the big question. None of this is meant to excuse his actions, but is part of the larger question of whether or not people can (and some may even ask if they should) deconstruct public figures, to separate the good from the bad, and keep what is worthwhile. Much as with various literary figures who held loathesome views on race and religion, it strikes me as a ridiculous waste to allow that facet to automatically nullify the other work they did. We will rarely, if ever, find head to toe paragons. Certainly, though, it's not as if I'm characterizing Cosby's behavior as minor moral shortcomings. Ultimately it's going to be an individual choice as to whether engage his legacy in a compartmentalized way, connecting with and embracing the good, or treat the rot as reason to throw it all away.

     Changing subjects, this past week HBO premiered the latest from Downton Abbey creator Julian Fellowes, as he turns his attention to issues of power and class-stratified society in the United States of the late 19th and early 20th century, as a sudden, new wave of brazenly conspicuous, wealth-driven power stepped in and very publicly redefined being rich. It's the 9-part dramatic series The Gilded Age.

     Based on some early reviews, and knowing what does and doesn't work well for me, I've decided to let at least a few episodes build up before giving it a go. The early setting and character introductions are likely to work better for me if I have the option to allow the story momentum to propel me, rather than deal with introductions and set-up in isolation, then waiting another week so I can ask myself "so who are these people again?"

     I'll catch up some other new and returning items next week. If you're in the path of the more extreme elements of this weekend's expected weather, may you be adequately stocked, your electricity and

cable/Internet keep flowing, and you have the freedom to be able to stay put, to ride it out in relatively comfort and safety. With Groundhog Day coming up next Wednesday I'd casually suggest watching Harold Ramis' 1993 Bill Murray/Andi MacDowell classic - all the more so if this weekend sees you snowed in - but I see that it's almost completely walled off by Starz, unless one wants to rent or buy it via Amazon, or buy a hard copy.
     It's an intersting subject, not only as the successful comedy it is, but both in its increasingly dark concept (which was almost entirely scrubbed out in the development of it as a comedy) and development by Danny Rubin, and how a clash over emphasizing the philosophical elements (Murray's stance) and the comedic ones (Ramis) in the script during filming effectively ended the men's friendship, and certainly their working partnership. The rift was strong and bitter enough that they were out of contact until shortly before Ramis' death. I know too many of us have had similar rifts with old friends and family members, especially in recent years, over social and political matters.
     That last-minute, seasonal detour out of the way -- see you in February! - Mike

Trawling The Thrift Stores with Joseph Finn

Happy Thursday, everyone!  We're two-thirds of the way through winter as this week ends, baseball should be coming back soon assuming MLB gives the union all they deserve, Oscar nominations are coming up and my shed is being built at the new house.  So let's see what weirdness I ran across!

_______________________________________

I'm mystified sometimes by simply terrible blu-ray covers.  Like this one, which slaps some very vapid facial expressions on top of the poster for October Sky, a lovely movie about a bunch of teens in Coalwood WV in the early '60s who decide to learn how to build rockets.  This, for instance, is the actual movie poster.

Of course, it's not even that simple.  The memoir this is based on, by NASA engineer Homer Hickman (yep, the majority of this movie is all true) had a slightly different title.

Both titles are quite great!  And I can't argue at all with the title of the movie version, especially when you compare the two of them:

R O C K E T B O Y S

O C T O B E R S KY

And you realize the new title is an anagram of the old one as well as being a pretty darn good title for a bunch of kids inspired by Sputnik to become rocketeers.  For a lot of us this was the first time we really noticed Jake Gyllenhaal and Chris Cooper and now that it's the 20th anniversary of this wonderful movie I hope more people take a look back at it.

October Sky is sadly not streaming on any package right now but is available for cheap rental and purchase pretty much anywhere.

_______________________________________

This weeks "I have no idea but I'm intrigued" is this 1982 novel,  ...And Ladies Of The Club was apparently very popular at the time, something that always intrigues me, especially when it's something came out during my lifetime and I have zero memory of it.  Helen Hooven Santmyer apparently wrote and published this when she was in her '80s, a Grandma Moses situation.  (Also, it amuses me because my wife has a connection to the school that this was originally published by the Ohio State University Press.)

As for the book itself, I kind of like the idea of a novel that takes place over several generations.  For instance, there is Edward Rutherford's London, which starts in Roman Londinium and goes through the end of the 20th century.  Or Alex Haley's Roots, which is an interesting mix of history and fiction.  So this is new to me but could be a little gem.

_______________________________________

Should I have just gone online and bought a blu-ray of this?  Sure.  Did I get a seriously '90s classic for a buck, even though it's still only a snap-case DVD?  Sure.  This movie is kind of bonkers, a goofy Cameron Crowe piece in between Say Anything and Almost Famous with an insanely good soundtrack and a lot of fun appearances by Seattle bands just before they broke (I think at this point Pearl Jam might have still been called Mookie Blaylock before they rejiggered).

Singles is available for rent and purchase at the usual places.

_______________________________________

This week's recommendation is a long one, but worth your time if not perfect.  Over on Shudder, check out the new documentary Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror.  It's a very interesting overview of folk horror in movies, covering all sorts of things.  It's one drawback is that it's very British and American-oriented in it's focus; it might have benefitted from being a series where each episode focused on a different geographical area (and would also fix the small problem of the movie not having a strong central focus).  But small issues aside, it's very worth your time if you have an interest in the subject.

Freedom Island, episode 2 -- Garbo

A new audio-format fiction project for 2022. Miss the pilot episode?  You can find it HERE.

 

Here's this week's episode:

Tuesday Thing for January 25, 2022 -- Garbo

 

Ifr you think this paperback cover is a bit grim, you ought to see the alternate cover design I didn't put up!  Anyway here's this week's audio post...

Also, here's last week's audio post, which I mention in the current offering.

The MP3 Standings

 by whiteray

As of this morning, the total number of mp3s in the RealPlayer is 84,064, still about ten thousand fewer than there were when my external hard drive crashed during the summer of 2017. I’ve replaced most of the important stuff; every once in a while, I recall an obscure album I once had and learn that I’ve never replaced it; most of the time, it’s only available for more cash than I care to invest. 

(I’ve used versions of the RealPlayer to play and sort my music since early 2000, when I first went online. It’s had numerous updates since then, of course, but sometime about five years ago, the company that owns it updated it in ways that no longer served my purpose, so whenever I get a new desktop, I head to a place called oldversion.com to find a suitably aged edition of the software. It can be kind of clunky, but I use it because it allows me to sort my mp3s by numerous categories: artist, year, album title, or even by single word, so if I want to see how many tracks have, oh, the word “grace” in their titles, I can do so. There are likely other mp3 players/storage programs that can do that, too, but I’m happy with what I’ve got. [There are, it turns out, twenty-three tracks among those 84,000-some mp3s with the word “grace” in their titles. My favorite among them is likely Richie Haven’s “By The Grace Of The Sun” from 2004.]) 

Anyway, I thought it might be interesting to see which artists are most represented among those nearly 84,000 tracks. Here are the current totals. (I’ll miss some; for instance, I’ll easily combine the total of tracks credited only to Bruce Springsteen with those credited to Springsteen and the E Street Band and the Sessions band, but I have some tracks out there with the Boss dueting with others. Those won’t get counted.) Here are the top fifteen. 

1,076: Bob Dylan
800: Bruce Springsteen
477: Beatles
342: Sebastian
341: Chris Rea
303: Eric Clapton
290: Nanci Griffith
271: John Barry
270: Jimmy McGriff
256: Rory Block
252: Cowboy Junkies
250: Richie Havens
241: Ferrante & Teicher
238: The Moody Blues
234: Frank Sinatra 

The next fifteen are The Band, Gordon Lightfoot, Joe Cocker, Carole King, Ramin Djawadi (who scored the Game Of Thrones series), Muddy Waters, Trevor Morris (who scored, among other projects, Vikings, The Tudors and The Borgias), Etta James, the Indigo Girls, Fleetwood Mac, Maria Muldaur, the Bee Gees, Clannad, Al Hirt, and Paul McCartney. 

The Beatles’ total has risen appreciably since the last time I checked the numbers; over the course of the past two years, I’ve added to the CD stacks the three 1990s anthologies and the four CDs’ worth of performances recorded live at the BBC, all of which I previously had only as LPs. 

The last things I added to the RealPlayer? The 1972 album by Danny O’Keefe titled simply O’Keefe, newly ripped files of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon, a single edit of Carole King’s “Corazon,” the 2000 album Rose by Danish singer Lis Sørensen as a single mp3 (as well as a corresponding single mp3 of the tunes from Rose as originally recorded by Danish singer Sebastian), albums by Keb’ Mo’ and Shawn Colvin, and anthologies of Benny Goodman, Bob Marley & The Wailers, and Tommy James & The Shondells. 

And tucked in among the last things I added to the RealPlayer is a single track that came my way via Facebook following the death of Ronnie Spector the other week: A 1977 take on Billy Joel’s “Say Goodbye To Hollywood” by Spector backed by the E Street Band. It’s one of the better things I’ve heard in a long time:

Sundries

           

 
                                        

Perks of age, yes, there are some...

It seems there is a feeling going around lately of interior examination. Several people have mentioned this in conversations, and I see the trend in posts on social media. Perhaps it's because many of us are impacted by the enormous changes occurring in society, and feeling lost in the whirlwind. We've begun to look inside because... outside is even scarier? Many of us are picking up and turning over the events of our lives to see what's underneath, or on the edges. This is good to do, unless perhaps you're suffering from scruples or OCD. People who've done a lot of this practice say it is best to not judge what we observe or recall, to simply notice it. I could not have done this when I was young, I could not have simply observed. I wanted things, and I chastised myself for anything I judged as a mistake or a wrongness in myself in the obtaining of those things, however unlikely or even harmful they might be. So stubborn. On the other hand, the very serious business of my many roles in life was rolling along, and I was not often aware of consequences and outcomes being the result of what I was doing. I was oblivious of the degree to which self defining outcomes were showing themselves to me. I was not taking the hint.

Because what I considered self-reflection, from earliest childhood, was in essence a constant judging of myself and others, and a constant awareness of what I perceived as things I lacked, I often felt uneasiness.

Perhaps I'm describing a typical neurosis, I wouldn't be surprised. What's interesting to me is that despite all that, and I struggle not to call it wasted time because it isn't, I ended up being able to deal with things fairly well. Seeing the ways we set ourselves up to achieve things that ultimately aren't really for us, is a gift I've gotten only from being so good at trying. Trials and tribulations have been many, especially since my 40's. I haven't been swallowed up in grief, unable to feel the joys and beauty of the present, regrets haven't taken over my psyche. After so many desires in life never coming to pass, I can accept that perhaps this change in my thinking was my goal, or one of them, in coming into this life. Looking back, I recall the feeling - the surge of anxiety rushing into my chest, my solar plexus suddenly empty, my head filling with adrenaline. Then the rush to do, or think, myself into solutions to my problems. Sometimes a few days of stewing would go by... I could think of little else. The feeling of having my mind spin out after it had run out of material for the current obsession, sleep finally overtaking me, and awakening, wondering, what the hell. The problem would be gone or at least I'd burned it up mentally. I felt free... and a bit depleted. This would be repeated many times over the years. Many, many, times.

It's been a long time since I've experienced that. I can't say how it stopped, except that I finally noticed that I was doing "that thing". That maybe I should just look at it more closely and see if I could learn more about what it was showing me without getting my mind in a whirl. I should breathe and get on with other things. I should wait. 

This is how it works if we are  lucky enough to live long enough, the perks of age.

Hoping your reflections are crystal clear this week. ~Dorothy Dolores

Art in Literature: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

The teacher training college I went to was old & growing near to unfit for purpose status even when my friends & I went, although we didn’t know it at the time. Almost everyone hand-wrote essays, even if, like me, they could touch-type. The campus was lovely; self-contained & leafy, it sat at the top of a hill overlooking the city. In the café you could see for miles thanks to the enormous windows reaching from one side of the building to the other. But several of the other buildings spoke of a much earlier time in education. They probably smelled exactly as they had when they were built, of floor polish & wooden panels. Some buildings barely ever seemed to be used. No surprise perhaps that the whole area was flattened & sold for flats but a sadness nevertheless.

Gustave Doré (1832-1883)

In the science department people actually wore lab coats. There was more equipment in that building than you’d ever find in all the primary schools in Aberdeen but we didn’t know that yet. I can’t remember a single thing about science class except that I once flooded the corridor by mistake. Along said corridors there were huge tanks of gerbils. It was difficult to ascertain how many gerbils there were in any given tank & they were allowed to take the various courses of nature. Gerbils will be gerbils after all. Occasionally, you’d see a dead gerbil among the torn-up nesting & burrowing material & feel the need to alert one of the technicians. They in turn would shrug & promise to deal with it, knowing you wouldn’t be back to science class for another week & they’d plenty of time to remove it or let it be further buried in the deep layers of shredded paper.

Clara Scintilla

All this is a roundabout way of saying there was a stuffed albatross in the science department. A real one. & he was absolutely ruddy enormous. I’d never seen an albatross of any sort, in any state & every time I encountered him he brought me not inconsiderable shock & amazement. I rarely thought about his demise as I usually would with stuffed animals because there was something about him that seemed alive. Either the taxidermist had done their job well or any albatross alive or dead has a presence. In any case, this one had presence. I can recall his beady false eye following me round the room, but in quite a genial way for a dead thing. In fact his whole bearing suggested a distinct matiness most wild animals sensibly tend to avoid. He was standing up, without context & I’m sure came up to my waist in height. I’ve always been a bit taller than average & the seagulls in Aberdeen are huge so to have what’s frankly a gigantic dead seagull stand next to you apparently imploring you to be his friend (you hope) is disconcerting & certainly memorable.

Arthur C Michael (1881-1965)

Utkarsh Chaturvedi 

All this is a roundabout way of saying I can’t see how the ancient mariner of Samuel Coleridge's poem could have shot the albatross, much less carried him around his neck, but quite honestly he had it all coming to him. His idiot shipmates were perhaps right to be superstitious & it’s likely long sea voyages do strange things to a person, especially back then but the only character I have sympathy for in the whole sorry tale is the giant, chummy bird himself. I’ll admit a little pity for the wedding guest – no-one likes to be cornered by random types, especially if they’re in a hurry. 

William Strang (1859-1921)

Greg Irons (1947-1984)

Said wedding guest is stopped by said random type – the eponymous mariner - & as always in these situations, made to listen to his tale of woe. & what a tale! The hapless wedding guest has no idea what he’s in for & in fairness does an about turn in his patience with the mariner. The mariner begins his story as this ship sets sail but when they hit a storm they are in peril. An albatross emerges & seems to lead them out of danger. Inexplicably the mariner shoots the bird & the crew are fuming. I can’t imagine the albatross was too happy either. When they emerge into better weather, the crew are less angry with the mariner but this story twists & turns & they end up more or less lost & without drinking water. The unreliable crew grow peevish again & in another baffling move, force the mariner to wear the albatross round his neck, hence the idiom still used today for something that drags us down or burdens us.

Nick Hayes

I’m not going to spoil the rest of the poem – everyone should read it once at least. I feel this way about most texts that enrich our figurative language. For a poem it’s long, Coleridge’s longest & it’s powerful stuff. What good illustrations should do of course is add to the words rather than replace them. By all means interpret the text, but as someone who has illustrated the poetry of others it’s not worthwhile trying to replicate what’s there. It’s the poet’s job to create images in the reader’s mind. Sometimes illustrations will make sense of more difficult passages for the reader, but with The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1797-98) which is chilling & evocatively written, the isolation, desolation & doom is all very clearly laid out in words. 

Harry Clarke (1889-1931)

In my opinion, to be effective, the illustrations of the Ancient Mariner must convey the sense of desert living since without drinking water that is almost literally what the sailors were suffering. Images should express the feeling of abandonment & emptiness that exists within humans, even aside from Coleridge’s supernatural hoo-hah. What is so brilliant about the Ancient Mariner is its successful description of universal human experience within a situation that most humans never find themselves in, then or now. Nowadays Coleridge’s poem can also be read as a cautionary environmental story – when it’s gone it’s gone & too much time’s already drifted by.

Mervyn Peake (1911-1968)

It’s nice to have an illustrated physical copy (Doré’s & Peake’s images are dazzling, as Doré’s & Peake’s work always is, Clarke’s controlled accomplishment astonishing of course – recommended) but you can read the poem online here for free if you want instant gratification & don’t mind relying on your own imagination to fill in any gaps…

https://www.oatridge.co.uk/poems/s/samuel-taylor-coleridge-rime-of-the-ancient-mariner.php

Alan B Herriot (b. 1952)

What We Watched - Jan 21 - Finest Finales

 

    Mostly taking a break from ongoing/upcoming shows and movies this week. This time last week I thought I'd split it into two, consecutive posts, but a wearying week's gotten me to re-think that, and both risk a possibly bloated post, and the certainty that I'm going to omit many worthy contenders.
I'm not going to pretend this is comprehensive even with respect to my own tastes. I fully expect to be surprised at myself for forgetting some, and I welcome any thoughts on these and others that worked well for you.
      This is a topic post, and as it deals with series finales over the years, it's going to be rich with variously aged spoilers in this glorious age of streaming and collected content.
     Over the years, a great many shows that were successful enough to have more than one season didn't have finales, most often because the season wrapped with the hopes it would be picked up for another year. Ratings, budgets, contract negotiations, changes of leadership at a network, any number of items often derail such plans. It can be especially unsatisfying if the season finale was a Hail Mary shot at another season, ending on a cliffhanger. That can be a whole bag o' frustrated fan angst, and definitely not what I want to focus on today. Today, we're all about endings done right.
     Even that can be a tricky matter, of course, because most often, if one's been following the show, there's at least some part that would like the story to go on indefinitely. In an odd way, the shows that closed without a finale, however frustrating that is in the moment, may be something of a gift to the Happily Ever After or The Adventure Continues breeds of fans. There's more to the story, but we just haven't seen it. Something to conjure with.
    

    I don't think any piece on tv show finales could avoid mentioning The Fugitive (1963-'67), where Dr. Richard Kimble (played by David Janssen), having been tried and convicted of the murder of his wife, is sentenced to death and has exhausted his appeals. A mountain of circumstantial evidence convicted him, despite his telling of a one-armed man he saw fleeing the scene. Very public arguments of the couple, combined with his seemingly improbable statements about a killer only he witnessed, convinced most people of his guilt. While being taken to the prison facility where he was to be placed on death row, a train accident allows him to escape. The series is Kimble on the run, simultaneously trying to stay at least a step ahead of his pursuers led primarily by police lieutenant Philip Gerald (played by Barry Morse), who had been accompanying Kimble on his train ride to what was to be his final destination.
     Over the course of four seasons Kimble followed leads, assumed new identities and local jobs, became enmeshed in other dramas, helped solve those problems, and tried to find his wife's killer.
     A two-part series finale, "Judgement" aired on August 22nd and 29th, 1967. The final episode set a television rating record that stood until a late November 1980 episode of Dallas.
     Probably the most astounding take-away from this for me was that prior to seeing the reaction to the finale, a move apparently pressed by the show's producers and writers, network executives were almost entirely oblivious to the idea that there was an invested fan base, watching for a conclusion. Living in their world of ratings, all they knew was that they had a show that had peaked in viewership during its second season, and which they were going to cancel after its fourth due to its fall in those numbers. The initial plan was to just end with a standard episode, leaving the matter unresolved.
     As it's there, I'll drop the two-part finale here, as it's available on YouTube:

    One of the big comedy hits of the 1970s was The Mary Tyler Moore Show, a sitcom centering on the titular character and (mostly, especially by the final season) her friends and co-workers at WJM-TV where she worked. The show ran seven seasons, from September 19, 1970, to March 19, 1977.
     Here's the final episode, all the way through the final look back and turning out the lights. The closing days of 2021 took out the last of this show's main cast, when Betty White bowed mere weeks before her 100th birthday, in the same year that had also taken Ed Asner, and earlier supporting cast player Cloris Leachman.

 
    Jumping a decade, but still staying on CBS, the series finale for Newhart was another tv milestone. The series ran from October 25, 1962, through May 21, 1990, and was stammering comedian Bob Newhart's second hit series for the network. In it, Bob played a How To book writer who'd convinced his wife that they should open an inn in a small Vermont town. Over the run of the series the town and its inhabitants became increasingly surreal, a point that factored strongly into the show's final episode.
     Here's the finale that's still considered a sitcom moment high-point for its final scene, including its wonderful call-back.

     From October 7, 1960, till March 20, 1964, a pair of friends worked their way across the country, driving a Corvette convertible, getting into weekly adventures of various stripes. This was Route 66, created by Herbert B. Leonard and Stirling Silliphant, and was a conceptual spin-off from an episode of their other tv creation The Naked City. Whereas City made a point of filming on the streets and

locations in New Your City, Route 66 shot their episodes in actual locations across the continental U.S., with a couple pokes into Canada.
     Tod Stiles (played by future Adam-12 star Martin Milner) owned the Corvette - the only valuable thing he had to his name, left to him by his recently-deceased father. Tod had been raised in wealth and privilege, attending an Ivy League school, but his father's business ended in bankruptcy by the time of his death. His traveling buddy through most of the series was Buz Murdock (George Maharis), who had come up on a much rougher path, as an orphan. Murdock/Maharis suddenly left the series mid-way through season three, and was replaced by Lincoln Case (played by Glenn Corbett), a Viet Nam veteran who, too, was in need of some wandering before being able to settle down into a life.
     The series' instrumental theme was the work of composer, arranger and bandleader Nelson Riddle, and is one of the first television themes to make Billboard's Top 30. It's worth taking the just over two minutes to pause and listen to.

    A terrific piece, it revives an old ember to just hit the road, destination unknown, don't know if I'm ever gonna get back. It's so fortunate they didn't just decide to use and pay royalties for Bobby Troup's

"(Get Your Kicks On) Route 66", which had originally been the idea. That's not at all a terrible song, but it would have set the tone for the series in a much more limited way, and we'd never have known the wonderful bit of traveling music we'd missed out on by not tapping Riddle's talent. In this, we're in the better timeline.
     Anyway, the show engaged a wide range of topics in its four seasons, was thick with famous guest-stars from film and tv, and concluded with a two-part, comically overly-contrived episode "Where There's A Will, There's A Way", which ended with Tod married to a commodities broker (played by future tv djinn Barbara Eden -- well-done, Tod!), while Linc announced that he was finally headed home to Texas to see his family and end his long estrangement from his father. So, the series wrapped, effectively, with the formal end of their wandering.
     Some listings will show "To Kill A King" as the show's final episode, but that was one originally shot much earlier. Involving a potential assassination plot against a visiting king, it was intended to air November 29, 1963. As that was one week after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, it was understandably not aired then. I have conflicting information about whether it was ever aired during the show's initial run, as an add-on the week following the finale, or only aired once the show went into syndication. Either way, it was never written and shot as a final episode, even if it turns up that way in syndication -- much to the confusion of the audience. (I know it threw me when a channel played them in order, only to have this confusing tack-on after seeing the story wrap.)
     It's a bit of a lengthy detour, but since they're handy on YouTube, I'll include the two-part series finale here:

     ...and here:

     At last check, aside from at least the majority of the episodes being on YouTube, apparently all of them on imdb.tv, the series is also waiting, for free (save for some commercials in all three places) on Tubi.

     Over the years I've seen some shows where the writers/showrunners carefully hedged their bets when they were unsure if the series would be getting a new season. Joss Whedon's Buffy the Vampire Slayer faced likely cancellation twice - leading to two, different sorts of approaches, and that show's spin-off, Angel, closed its fifth season with high likelihood that it wasn't going to get a sixth.
     With Buffy, network changes seemed to spell death by homelessness with the end of the fifth season, so the season ended with the lead giving up her life in a sacrifice to save the world in the episode "The Gift." Being picked up by a new network gave them the opportunity to continue the story, so season six started with a secret plot by a group of characters to resurrect Buffy on the basis that her death had been by mystical, and therefore unnatural, means. This brought her and the gang two more seasons.

   When the show finally bowed with its seventh season, with one or more of the series leads now interested in moving on to other roles, it took a different approach. A winning gambit in the finale completely changed the playing field, eliminating the unique, only one-at-a-time status of The Slayer (something they'd already found single-exception loopholes in a couple times over the series run), and empowering all of the potential Slayers all over the world. Had the show somehow gotten an eighth season they would have rolled on with this new worldscape. It didn't, so the characters' stories, instead, only continued in a series of several, canonical, comic book "seasons."
     Similarly, that show's spin-off series Angel, ran into some problems during the fifth season in ways that still seem unclear. Some versions have it that Whedon insisted on the WB (which was the network carrying the show) make an early announcement during season five that the show had been renewed for season six. All indications are that had the process been allowed to roll out as usual, that the show would have gotten another season, but the insistence by Whedon on an early answer backed network Head of Entertainment Jordan Levin into a corner. Pressed to give that early answer, the only one he was empowered to give then was cancellation.
      While no one was formally walking away, and would have dutifully continued under the right terms, lead actor David Boreanaz - already in his mid-thirties - was likely getting restless with being stuck playing a character who was supposed to be eternally about 18 years old.
     The final season involved an elaborate plot against major players on the world shadow stage, which

was an indirect, symbolic flipping off of extra-dimensional, evil, Powers That Be -- forces they knew they would never be able to triumph against directly. The show ended with a final, Butch & Sundance style confrontation in "Not Fade Away", as Angel and his surviving allies about to square off against a seemingly impossible force.
     As with Buffy, had Angel managed another season there were ideas of where to go with it -- that instead were explored in a series of comic book seasons. Boreanaz would have finally gotten his "out" of trying to pretend he was supposed to be a much, much younger age, via a spell that would have secretly cured him of his vampirism, and left him surviving by his wits, hubris, his reputation, and a glamour to make him still seem to be what he had been. So, Angel and (eventually) his companions got to continue in print, while Boreanaz got to leave the fangs and scary face behind, as he went off to co-star in an even longer-running series, over on Fox: Bones.
     Buffy and Angel are each currently included over at Amazon Prime and on Hulu.
 

    Shifting back to the comedy/dramedy arena, one likely can't completely avoid M*A*S*H, spun off from an R-rated 1970 motion picture about the Korean War, a general anti-war black comedy. From 1972 to 1983, eleven seasons, 256 episodes, the show ran far longer than the roughly three-year deployment - a "police action", not a war - it was based on. The February 28, 1983 series finale, "Goodbye, Farewell, Amen" remains the most-watched finale of any television series. Ironically, while I saw that back when it aired, and as best I can recall one other time over the years, the length of the series and the aggressive syndication even while it was still ongoing largely burnt me out on it. A victim of not merely its own success, but of U.S., commercial-driven TV moves, in syndication it was generally cut to make room for more commercials as the years went on. I haven't taken the time to go back and rewatch the full episodes in this age of streaming access, as most of the episodes have that sense of having been watched to death.
     M*A*S*H is available through Hulu, or can be rented or purchased via Amazon Prime.

     Because they're still big items in the streaming world, and yet I still know too many people who haven't dived in to watch, I'll note several that come straight to mind as having strong final episodes -- all without spoiling details:
    Breaking Bad (2008-2013, originally aired on AMC, five seasons, 62 episodes, with a follow-up movie El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie) Centered in the odyssey of Walter White, a high school chemistry teacher who tries to solve one problem only to find himself on a path that utterly remakes him and reinvents his life. A solid series with an effective, memorable ending. The movie add some details and a character-specific postscript. I've watched this all the way through twice. A spin-off, mostly prequel series focusing on a supporting character, Better Call Saul, is still awaiting its final season. I fully expect that once that wraps it'll join this list.
     The Shield (2002-2008, on FX, seven seasons, 88 episodes) Crime drama about a special unit of corrupt cops. Originally written to be a loosely fictionalized version of the real life Rampart Division scandal, they opted to make it more fully its own thing. I came to this late - years after the series aired - and haven't made the time to rewatch it.
     The Good Place (2016-2020, NBC, four seasons, 58 episodes) Fantasy comedy series concerned with the workings of the afterlife. This was a complete win for me, from start to finish. even the characters I didn't care for at first found their place by the end. In turn, often simultaneously, funny, absurd, thoughtful and touching, for me they did the almost impossible and stuck the ending. I watched the show straight through three times - first week to week, season to season, and then in two, smooth binges. An especially appreciated balm for the soul, it rolled out over four years where, as it turned out, it was particularly needed.
     The Wire (2002-2008, HBO, five seasons, 60 episodes) This crime drama (and it's so much more than that) is something of a gold standard as a series. I've revisited it several times, and the overall quality of the series - along with various character farewells along the way - make it difficult for me to just focus on the final episode.
 
     As noted way up top, there's no attempt here to offer an exhaustive list. Happily, there are many examples - especially for the fans - and part of a piece like this is to prompt readers to erupt with cries of "How could you forget...?!" some cherished show and finale. I'm already doing that to myself as I look this over to add the graphics, and that doesn't include the many shows that are cherished by their fans, but which failed to connect with me.
     So, instead, I need to choose a high-end example to close with. One that was touching, inclusive,  certainly final, and which stuck with me for some reason.

     An uneven series (your mileage may vary, but I cannot be the only one who was well and truly sick of at least one of the characters well before the end), but one with a solid, memorable, thematic finale, was HBO's Six Feet Under.
     The show ran for five seasons, centering on the Fisher clan, whose family business was a funeral home... which was also the literal family home. While often laced with humor, it was a dramatic series.
     An early feature of the show was a death to start off each episode, the arrangements for each, at least, intersecting with the family business.
     When it came to the finale, we saw Claire, the youngest primary member of the family, spurred on by the death of a sibling, leaving the nest to head off to make her own life.
     The long road trip plays out as a symbolic life journey, as we skip down through the years to see, one by one, the demise of the series' primary characters. Most fans of the show found it a sad, but poignant and fitting close. Much depended upon how much one was ready to know each of their endings. After all, the move effectively nullified any thoughts a fan might have had that the series might be revived.
     Drawing on what's available, I've settled on the scene, split into two videos, on YouTube. (There's a one-and-done presentation on Dailymotion, and that's a hypertext link to it, but their mechanics and those of Blogger don't allow me to embed their code here.) So, resorting to YouTube, here's part one:

 ... and the second half

     The series is available on HBO and the HBO Max streaming platform.
     So... were any of these among your favorites? Something other?
     That's all for this week from me. I'll be back a week from now as we roll into the final weekend of January. Stay warm and safe. - Mike