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MATT ZOLLER SEITZ: Brian Williams’ nostalgia act

The NBC anchor returns us to the days when news magazines — with actual reporting! — ruled prime time.

By Matt Zoller Seitz
Press Play Contributor

I felt a twinge of nostalgia watching the debut of Brian Williams’ news magazine Rock Center last night. It took me back to an odd period maybe 10 or 15 years ago, when the networks all figured out they could fill their schedules with news magazines that were cheap to make and reasonably smart (if sometimes trashy or alarmist) and draw at least as big an audience as whatever scripted shows they’d originally hoped to put there. At one point there were multiple versions of the various network news magazines on TV all at once: Dateline (NBC), 20/20 (ABC), 60 Minutes (CBS), 48 Hours (CBS), and a short-lived program called Public Eye With Bryant Gumbel (CBS), which probably no one remembers except me and Gumbel.

Rock Center feels like a nicer version of that Gumbel broadcast, a hybrid that combines old-school, radio-with-pictures TV reporting with wraparound segments in which the host interviews the correspondents about their work. It’s much less awkward, though, because Williams is wittier and more cheerful than Gumbel — he would have made a great permanent host of Saturday Night Live if he’d chosen to go that route — and because he doesn’t interrogate his correspondents like a sourpuss professor dressing down writers in a workshop.

You can read the rest of Matt's piece here at Salon.

Matt Zoller Seitz is publisher of Press Play.

SLIDE SHOW: THE SIMPSONS save halloween, again

The Simpsons airs its latest installment of “Treehouse of Horror” this Sunday — a long-standing tradition that lets an already formally daring cartoon show let its imagination run wild. The “Treehouse” segments have been the show’s most reliably inventive during its second decade; while composing this list of my personal favorite segments (not entire episodes) I was pleasantly surprised by how many installments from the later years ended up claiming slots.

What else is there to say? Oh, right: If you’re wondering where “Dial Z for Zombies” is, it’s No. 11, which means it’s not on here. I love it — especially the immortal line “Is this the end of Zombie Shakespeare?” — but I like these just a little bit more. List your own favorites in the Letters section. To quote Marge in “The Shinning,” go crazy.

To view Matt’s slide show at Salon, go here.

Matt Zoller Seitz is TV critic for Salon and publisher of Press Play.

RECAP: THE WALKING DEAD, Season 2, Episode 3: Save The Last One

Editor’s Note: The following recap of The Walking Dead season 2, episode 3 contains spoilers; read at your own risk.

The best and worst qualities of The Walking Dead were on display in tonight’s episode; the extremes were so pronounced that my notes suggest the exuberant jottings of a split personality. “Gorgeous.” “Oh, for chrissakes, quit while you’re ahead — you already showed that, why re-hash it?” “Some of the best atmosphere on TV.” “Oh, shut up.” “Jon Bernthal is KILLING in this episode; he has Richard Gere’s oily, furtive, ‘What am I NOT guilty of’ body language.” “I wish Rick and Lori would get eaten so I didn’t have to hear their ‘discussions’ anymore.” “Brilliant ending — best of series so far.”

My sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter, slap, slap, slap.

Scott M. Gimple wrote this episode; Sopranos veteran Phil Abraham directed. It was the best of Dead, it was the worst of Dead. Bottom line: When The Walking Dead is dramatizing its characters ‘ moral and ethical conundrums and letting them play out through physical action (or inaction), it’s as good as the very best zombie films that inspired it. But when one character says to another, “Can I talk to you for a second?”, the show’s slow-burn momentum halts so abruptly that they might as well signal an upcoming heart-to-heart by laying a “screeching brakes” noise on the soundtrack. [“Hey, Shane, ya got a minute?” SCR-EEEeeeeEEEEEEEE!] I wish this show would have faith in its B-movie spirit and considerable filmmaking prowess, model its dialogue on an old cowboy picture, and keep things moving. There’s no reason to keep turning every scene into Zombie Oprah. Honest.

You can read the rest of Matt’s piece here at Salon.

Matt Zoller Seitz is the publisher of Press Play.

MATT ZOLLER SEITZ: BOSS: Is Kelsey Grammer’s show the new WIRE

Starz' "Boss" is a tour de force about politics, power and the press — and the inevitability of corruption.

By Matt Zoller Seitz
Press Play Contributor

Here are my shifting thoughts during the first 10 minutes of the pilot episode of the new Starz series Boss (Fridays, 10 p.m. Eastern/9 Central), starring Kelsey Grammer as the mayor of Chicago, with time stamps:

(1:00) Great credits.

(2:32) So apparently Kelsey Grammer had a Eureka! moment watching Breaking Bad one night, called his agent and said, “Find me a cable drama, and make sure it’s gritty.”

(3:17) Who did Kelsey Grammer play on Frasier again?

(4:20) Steve Buscemi is a brilliant actor, and I have tried with all my heart to appreciate his committed performance as Nucky Thompson on Boardwalk Empire, but I must now concede that he was miscast. Grammer would have been perfect.

(9:35) I might need to recap every episode of this series.

Starting … now.

You can read the rest of Matt's piece here at Salon.

A critic, journalist and filmmaker, Matt Zoller Seitz is the staff TV columnist for Salon.com and the founder of Press Play.

RECAP: THE WALKING DEAD, Season 2, Episode 1: “What Lies Ahead”

EDITOR'S NOTE: AMC's zombie series returns for season two tonight, already more powerful than the long-running comic it's based on. This review contains spoilers. Read at your own risk.

By Simon Abrams
Press Play Contributor

Continuity is a double-edged sword in “The Walking Dead.” According to Robert Kirkman, the writer and co-creator of the comic book that AMC’s acclaimed show is based on, the intent of his series was to follow a single character, Rick Grimes, as he survives the Zombie Apocalypse. This has made the comic a consummately ambitious experiment in long-form narrative storytelling — and it creates challenges for the TV version, which begins its second season tonight. Eighty-nine issues into its seemingly indomitable run, Kirkman’s comic is messy, sprawling and often poorly realized. And a big reason why is that we know that Rick can’t die. That’s the series’ hook — and its biggest problem.

This wouldn’t create such a dilemma for the show’s writers if Rick were likable. Unfortunately, he’s not. As originally conceived in Kirkman’s comics, Rick is a fundamentally desperate and needy character. He inserts himself into situations and tries to control events where he is in over his head. He sees himself romantically as a benevolent savior — and he almost always gets his way. After Rick gets his bearings in the show’s pilot, “Days Gone Bye,” he finds a horse, saddles up and rides into a zombie-infested Atlanta with a bag full of guns slung over his shoulder. He has no idea how ill-prepared he is for what awaits him in the city.

You can read the rest of Simon's recap here at Salon.

Simon Abrams is a New York-based freelance arts critic. His film reviews and features have been featured in the Village Voice, Time Out New York, Slant Magazine, The L Magazine, New York Press and Time Out Chicago. He currently writes TV criticism for The Onion AV Club and is a contributing writer at the Comics Journal. His writings on film are collected at the blog, The Extended Cut.

RECAP: DEXTER, Season 6, Episode 3: “Smokey and the Bandit”

EDITOR'S NOTE: This recap contains spoilers for "Dexter" season six, episode three; read at your own risk.

By Ian Grey
Press Play Contributor

Good news from Miami: Dexter is finally behaving like Dexter again.

The ceaseless theological table setting is done, gone. The characters are acting as if they remember who they’ve been for five seasons, or taking steps in other directions that connect with their history. Yes, we still have to endure the irritating presence of Ryan (Brea Grant), a squinty Manic Pixie who stops the show dead in its tracks in every scene that she blights. And yes, the show hasn’t quite found a unifying tone to reconcile its wildly contrasting elements — Jesus freak Grand Guignol, salsa soundtrack cues, class redemption stories, pre-mid-life anxiety attacks, telenovela-like melodramatics — but now I want to trust that all of it will be smoothed over. With its third episode this season, “Smokey and the Bandit“, the show has reclaimed some of its Gothic texture, with a literally darker image, while cordoning the ill-advised “zany” humor to a single bit of golfing goofiness (don’t ask). And our favorite mordantly detached observer of human foibles is back, if not at full force, at least in three-quarter sail.

Before we get on with recapping proper, I want to note that Mos Def’s Brother Sam — who, if you don’t mind, I’m shortening to B-Sam — is a terrific addition to the show. Everything he says has a fascinating attitude of deference — to God, to some dark place in himself, perhaps to Dexter’s Dark Passenger, you never know. He’s like somebody whispering the cure to your diagnosis; it’s only natural to lean forward a bit to find out what the deal is. And Dexter (Michael C. Hall) is very, very interested, because B-Sam’s whisper-stream has to do with being recovered from the absolute dark of life-taking.

You can read the rest of Ian's piece here at Salon.

Ian Grey has written, co-written or been a contributor to books on cinema, fine art, fashion, identity politics, music and tragedy. His column "Grey Matters" runs every week at Press Play. To read another piece about Drive, with analysis of common themes and images in all of Refn's films, click here.

RECAP: BREAKING BAD, Season 4, Episode 13: “Face Off”

The dazzling season finale of Breaking Bad eliminates many of Walt's problems while creating new ones. The following recap of Breaking Bad Season 4, Episode 13 contains spoilers. Read at your own risk.

By Matt Zoller Seitz
Press Play Contributor

The last thing Gus Fring did was straighten his tie.

The seemingly indestructible drug lord bought it in a nursing home after going with his henchman Tyrus to kill his mute enemy, Hector Salamanca. The visit had been secretly engineered by Walt with the cooperation of Hector, who falsely made it seem as though he was about to become an informant for the drug enforcement agency in order to lure his enemies into range. The killing device was a bomb strapped to the undercarriage of Hector’s wheelchair. In a brilliant touch, the mute Hector triggered the bomb the same way he communicated his wishes, by repeatedly hammering on a small silver bell. In an even more brilliant touch, the explosion was conveyed in long shot as its force blew the front door off Hector’s room and sent debris and smoke into the hallway. When Gus stepped out of the room, I thought for a moment that he had miraculously survived the explosion — an outcome that would not have surprised me, given Gus’ past track record of surviving attempts on his life; but then the camera tracked forward and situated itself in front of Gus, revealing that half his face had been blown off. He fell out of frame, and buenas noches.

So where does that leave Breaking Bad? As is often the case — on the show and in life — an act of violence created or intensified as many problems as it solved. Jesse and the Whites no longer have to worry about Gus trying to kill them, nor do they have to worry about reprisals from the Salamanca clan, the most prominent members of which were already offed in previous episodes.

But a bombing at a nursing home will surely intensify the search for Heisenberg once the DEA realizes that the device was homemade, and therefore devised by someone with an intimate knowledge of chemistry. The law enforcement scrutiny of Walt isn’t going to go away; logically Jesse should get drawn into it as well, once the DEA figures out (via witnesses and surveillance footage) that Walt was at the same hospital as Gus and Tyrus at the same time earlier that day, and that Jesse and Walt had frequent cell phone contact, and even had a conversation on a hospital hallway bench in plain view of cops who later questioned Jesse about the poisoning.

You can read the rest of Matt's piece here at Salon.

A critic, journalist and filmmaker, Matt Zoller Seitz is the staff TV columnist for Salon.com and the founder of Press Play.

MATT ZOLLER SEITZ: George Harrison Living In A Material World

Martin Scorsese's new HBO documentary about George Harrison is as serious and sometimes mystifying as its subject

By Matt Zoller Seitz
Press Play Contributor

Who is your favorite Beatle? If you prize humility, generosity and gratitude — or if you’re a kid who loves the sound of his funny name –you might answer Ringo Starr. Otherwise it’s probably a two-way race between Paul McCartney, who stands for sentimentality, old-school musical craft and ceaseless productivity, or John Lennon, whose name still epitomizes rebellion, sarcasm, soulfulness and martyrdom. I’ve rarely heard anyone answer “George Harrison,” and Martin Scorsese’s two-part HBO documentary Living in the Material World (Oct. 5 and 6, 9 p.m. Eastern, 8 Central) incidentally suggests the reasons why. Harrison was the most studious, elusive and impenetrable Beatle. And as he got older, he became increasingly uninterested in celebrity except as a vehicle that could expose him to new experiences, and bring him into contact with artists and thinkers from whom he could learn something.

George — as I will refer to him from now on in this review, because calling the Beatles by their last names seems too formal — was the youngest of the Beatles, but by consensus he was the most mature. From a shockingly early age, he was a student of life, cultivating the demeanor of an acolyte on an endless pilgrimage to an unknown destination. John Lennon had a questing spirit, too, but his life had a wild, often deliberately comical performance-art aspect that George’s mostly lacked. Where Lennon’s personal evolution was a series of diary entries that he invited the world to read, George’s happened, or seemed to happen, in private. The outward evidence of whatever quest George was on (hair length, wardrobe, sitar lessons, Hare Krishna chanting) seemed mostly unconnected to his life as a public figure. He explained himself in the media only because, as one of the world’s most famous men, he had to — and because he hoped his celebrity might encourage strangers to try whatever he was excited about.

You can read the read of Matt's piece here at Salon.

A critic, journalist and filmmaker, Matt Zoller Seitz is the staff TV columnist for Salon.com and the founder of Press Play.

MATT ZOLLER SEITZ: AMERICAN HORROR STORY Prizes camp over suspense

This self-aware new show from the producers of Glee and Nip/Tuck is one-stop shopping for horror film imagery

By Matt Zoller Seitz
Press Play Contributor

American Horror Story doesn’t seem like the right title for this new FX series, which debuts tonight at 10 p.m./9 Central; "American Camp” might have been more accurate. It’s being sold as a noveau gothic ghost story, and purely in terms of imagery in situations, that description isn’t entirely misleading, but it’s not quite accurate, either. Co-created by Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk, the show is one-stop shopping for horror tropes, ancient and recent.

The central family, the Harmons, live in a textbook haunted house — a spacious Victorian-style L.A. mansion that was built in the 1920s and that hosted a horrific double murder-suicide. Of course it’s haunted; there wouldn’t be a show if it weren’t. But in case that’s not enough to sustain a series built around gore, shocks and spookiness, Murphy and Falchuck pile on still more unsettling elements, including Seven-style opening credits; a dysfunctional back story for the main couple, Vivian (Connie Britton) and her psychologist husband, Ben (Dylan McDermott); relentless, verging-on-Carrie bullying of the Harmons’ teenage daughter Violet (Taissa Farmiga); a kooky neighbor named Constance (Jessica Lange) who came out to Hollywood to be an actress in the ’60s and now runs a doggie day care center and tends to her teenage daughter Adelaide (Jamie Brewer) who has Down syndrome; time-shifted shocks that seem to allude to horrors that happened in the deep past, or that will happen in the future; and last but certainly not least, an unnerving teenage patient of Ben’s (Evan Peters) who brags of murderous impulses and hallucinates bloody corpses.

You can read the rest of Matt's piece here at Salon.

A critic, journalist and filmmaker, Matt Zoller Seitz is the staff TV columnist for Salon.com and the founder of Press Play.

RECAP: BREAKING BAD, Season 4, Episode 12: “End Times”

EDITOR'S NOTE: Did Breaking Bad stumble near the finish line? Either clumsy plotting broke a great season's final momentum, or this show is ahead of its audience yet again. This recap of Breaking Bad, season four, episode 12, "End Times" contains spoilers. Read at your own risk.

By Matt Zoller Seitz
Press Play Contributor

“He has been ten steps ahead of me at every turn,” Walt said, begging Jesse for his life in “End Times”. He was talking about Gustavo “Gus” Fring, the drug dealer and fast food magnate who’d made his life hell.

But the line lingered in my mind as I sat down to write this piece and weighed whether to come down hard on some of this episode’s more absurd sequences, especially that business with Andrea’s young son Brock apparently becoming poisoned after … well, after what? Bear with me here, because the “what” seemed uncharacteristically muddy for a Breaking Bad subplot. Bottom line: I hope — and expect — that Breaking Bad is ten steps ahead of its audience, as it often tends to be, and that it didn’t suddenly exhaust its cleverness this season and start winging it.

First, the business with the ricin. When Jesse dumped his pack out on the sidewalk in front of the hospital and figured the boy had ingested the ricin he’d been smuggling for weeks but couldn’t bring himself to use on Gus, I thought maybe it just was a horrible accident — that maybe Brock filched a smoke, as curious boys sometimes do, and picked the absolute wrong one to experiment with. But Brock is probably too young for that — six, according to the “Breaking Bad” wiki entry on Andrea — and the cigarette pack time line established in subsequent scenes would seem to rule that out anyway.

You can read the rest of Matt's recap here at Salon.

A critic, journalist and filmmaker, Matt Zoller Seitz is the staff TV columnist for Salon.com and the founder of Press Play.