Transitions

I usually ignore the pre-Oscar hype as studiously as I do the same inane bloviating that precedes the Super Bowl, but this year I thought to turn on the TV a bit earlier to check out the Red Carpet event in its full HD glory. The crispness of the Sony WEGA picture could not, however, compensate for the obtuseness of the interviewer, whose first question to George Clooney was, "Did you ever think when you were on 'The Facts of Life' that one day you would have a moment like this?" Clooney, a good sport heading for a very satisfying evening, fielded the question gallantly, but I don't recall the answer precisely because I abruptly turned off the set.

Later on, when Paul Haggis won both the Best Original Screenplay award, and a surprise Best Picture Oscar for "Crash," there wasn't much mention of his days writing for "The Facts of Life." Here's a guy who has penned the last two Oscar-winning films, a pretty amazing achievement for someone whose brain might have been severely compromised for having written dialogue for Tootie and Mrs. Garrett. I'm also reminded of another former "Facts of Life" writing alum, Andy Borowitz, now a major American humorist who wins Internet awards and gets published monthly in The New Yorker. I knew Andy in Los Angeles, and he would refer to the writers of "The Facts of Life" as idiots, himself excluded. I don't know if that included Haggis. While it seems an anomaly, or a cultural nonsequitur, that this particular show should have bred so much future Industry success, it does suggest that the derision foisted on the genre by film critics like Roeper and Ebert may not be justified. As famous screenwriting teacher Robert McKee suggested in his seminar (to my great edification), "You think sitcom writing is easy? Go try it."

I won't be the first among the 70 million-or-so bloggist worldwide trying to understand why "Crash" defeated "Brokeback Mountain" for the top award, though I predicted it might (as did a lot of local critics). I guess it had something of a hometown advantage, being set in L.A. and casting so many local actors (though that did not help an equally deserving nominee of recent years, "L.A. Confidential.") There was the usual Harvey Weinstein overselling and the aggressive distribution of so many DVDs, as well as a strategic rerelease of "Crash" in December and January. There was probably enough residual homophobia among some elderly Oscar voters who were uncomfortable with "Brokeback's" themes, plus a split of politically left voters between the two great advocacy films, "Brokeback" and "Good Night and Good Luck," as well as a perverse inclination of some to go against the favorite. An AOL poll on Monday found 37% of readers supporting "Brokeback" and 35% behind "Crash," suggesting a statistically even race. Well, they are both very good films, both deserving and both better than last year's champ "Million Dollar Baby." "Brokeback's" breakthrough may have a deeper cultural inpact and it will likely appear some day on that syndicated show "Movies That Shook the World," while "Crash" just reflects the world.

Enough said, and it's time to transit away from the film industry to my favorite subject, baseball. Season projections will be forthcoming, but mention should be made of another sadder transition, the death of Minnesota Twins immortal (well not that immortal), Kirby Puckett. He succumbed to a stroke yesterday at age 45. He was a popular player both in and out of Minneapolis, hit a famous clutch homer to help the Twins survive and eventually win the great 1991 World Series, and earned his Hall of Fame status. It's easy to picture his stumpy figure hovering at the plate and skittering down to first base. But the charm of his career was undercut by his less graceful post-retirement, which featured run-ins with the law and spousal abuse. Eventually his fireplug figure broadened into more of a bowling ball as he gained 100 pounds, giving him over 310 pounds to carry on his 5-8 frame. This self-abuse parading as self-indulgence resulted in his tragic early departure, but one that was not very surprising.

Oddly, I felt equally as bad over a fictional demise, at least as unexpected, involving another endearing roly-poly character. On last night's two-hour episode of "24" a climactic nerve-gas attack on the home base of CTU cost the lives of 40% of the personnel, including brilliant computer maven Edgar, played by Louis Lombardi. It was truly harrowing watching him succumb at the end of the program as his companions gazed on from their hermetically sealed room; his last words were mouthing "Chloe" to his unrequited love, who responded with a silent "Edgar" in a horrific farewell. This was perhaps the most emotionally wrenching moment of the entire series, save perhaps for Jack's mourning his murdered wife at the end of Season One. Though I predicted President Palmer's death in the season opener, this caught me offguard. (Yet to be fair to myself, I did foresee in an earlier blog an eventual demise for both Edgar and Chloe). And while the program is showing evidence of thinning creativity--the attack on CTU replicating a similar one in Season Two--it also demonstrates how effective an action show can be if it remembers to define and humanize its characters.