Corner Gas (David Storey, 2004, Canada) AKA There’s Not a Lot Going On
Way back in January of 2004, 1.2m Canadians tuned in for Corner Gas’s series premier, which is apparently pretty much unprecedented for the first episode of a Canadian-based TV show, and just goes to show that you can’t take too seriously the prevailing wisdom that what’s popular cannot possibly be any good. So listen up: Corner Gas is not only good, it’s bloody well great.
In Samuel Johnson’s Preface to Shakespeare he said that William was "the poet of nature" because "his drama is the mirror of life." So too, I think, is the comedy of Brent Butt, the brain trust behind CTV’s emergent comedy hit Corner Gas. Not to over-praise Butt, but there is something quite extraordinary about his accomplishment with this series. Yes, he holds a mirror up to life, and reflects with equal parts intelligence, sweetness and sarcasm the experience that is so clearly rooted in a very specific sort of small town experience. But so too does he also touch on something deeper, something essentially human about these people that transcends the particular and inclines towards the universal..
A gas station and diner are the axis upon which the lives of a group of folk in Dog River, Saskatchewan spin. Brent LeRoy (Butt) runs the gas station that he took over from his semi-retired yet constantly meddling father Oscar (Eric Peterson) and bulldog-faced and whiskey-voiced mother Emma (Janet Wright), while Lacey (Gabrielle Miller) is proprietor of The Ruby. Brent’s best buds Hank (Fred Ewaniuk) and Wanda (Nancy Robertson), as well as the town’s law enforcement types (Lorne Cardinal, Tara Spencer-Nairn) round out the ensemble cast. Corner Gas features an observational wit that is felt in the sweet-yet-acerbic characterizations of these folks who pony up to the gas bar in this one-horse prairie town that lies on two major trucking routes. The show obviously has deep affection for the people it’s funning with, but when something is tagged with the "observational humour" label nowadays, it often suggests that there is an ironic distance between the characters and audience. However, since on Corner Gas the humour generally arises from one of two things, whether organically from the flaws of this character-driven comedy, or from the delicious and delightful word-play that suggests the writers have enjoyed many an hour together mining the language in search of all its innate amusement, the show does not suffer from the sort of emotional coolness that comes from that kind of ironic distancing. Rather, it embraces its characters and their foibles, as will you.
Lovers of the language and witty banter will appreciate the humour found in the characters’ arguments over the misuse of articles ("He’s the Tax Man." "I’m A Tax Man, not THE Tax Man. That’s rather dehumanizing, don’t you think?"), or the relative qualities of one’s ability to craft an analogy (When Brent decided to level the playing field of his gas station’s washrooms by filthying up the women’s commode, Lacey opined that it was "like Paradise Lost!" to which Brent rejoined, "So now you’re comparing heaven to a public washroom?"), while others might find themselves laughing out loud at the modern day Honeymooner-type relationship of Oscar and Emma (my favourite characters in the series) while admiring the ability of the writers to balance the couple’s constant and very funny bickering ("Emma, is this another one of your stupid tricks?" "Honestly, Oscar, I don’t know how you survive.") with understated undercurrents of affiliation. The series liberal use of flashbacks is another technique that regularly mines comic gold, often giving us a goofy glimpse of the characters as they imagine themselves and their confreres to be, providing a gently satirical contrast with reality.
To place it in the context of other sitcoms, Corner Gas is sorta like a Canuck version of Northern Exposure--except that it’s coherent and intelligent, not to mention really funny and witty—with a large dollop of the Seinfeld conversational-based zeitgeist stirred in for good measure. One of Butt’s great accomplishments here is not only that he has cracked the hegemony of American sitcoms with his creation, but also that this series is no tepid simulacrum of our southern counterparts. Indeed, Corner Gas is legitimate and authentic Canadiana, displaying an ability to tap into the inherent humour and the basic universality of its very specific situation and characters without condescending to his audience by deploying stereotypes for cheap laughs or well-tread city vs. country themes for people too lazy to believe that you can find intelligent life and amusing conversation outside of our world’s major urban centres. While Canada has in the past produced some first rate sketch comedy (SCTV, Kids in the Hall) and political satire (This Hour has 22 Minutes), not to mention a world famous comic actor or two (Jim Carrey, Mike Myers, John Candy, Dan Akroyd) it has, until now, proven sadly incapable of developing sitcoms that have left any sort of lasting impression on the televisual landscape. Well, with Corner Gas we have finally arrived, as we can now boast of a show that balances its specifically small prairie town Canadian reality with a broader, more general study of the essential absurd humanity of us all, all while maintaining a consistently first-rate standard of comedy that is such a thing of rare beauty in these moribund days of the television sitcom, and is certainly reason enough to begin the celebration. Corner Gas, Canada’s first great sitcom, and the funniest show of the 21st century, is in a league of its own.
Score: 90/100
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Sunday, November 14, 2004
The nice people at Kino recently released a six-pack of one of my favourite filmmakers, Krzysztof Kieslowski, and so in this section of me blog I will be discussing four of the man's early and mid-career efforts: The Scar (1976), The Camera Buff (1979),No End (1985), and Blind Chance (1987).
With its ironic Edenic reference, The Scar’s grim landscape of early 70s Poland is the backdrop to the story of one flawed but well-meaning man’s ambitious attempts to bring the benefits of industry to an unappreciative back-water town. The film’s documentary feel is no accident, as this is Kieslowski’s first feature film after a decade of documentary filmmaking, and the ragged feel of the film actually serves the subject matter well, even if it makes for some narrative hiccups and a certain unevenness in the quality of the performances and the overall production. The work of a filmmaker in chrysalis, The Scar is engaging and enlightening just often enough to pass muster; it certainly outlines a people, place and time in convincingly acerbic tones.
Score: 71/100
On the other hand, The Camera Buff is by Kieslowski’s standards, a light-hearted and playful romp through the gathering obsession of a lower middle pencil pusher. Filip acquires an 8mm camera in order to record his newborn child’s progress through this life, but the titular character soon becomes so enamoured with his new vocation that he risks everything--family, friends, employment—to indulge in his pursuits. As played by one of Kieslowski favourites, the wonderfully open-faced and clear-hearted Jerzy Stuhr (White, Decalogue), this is clearly a bit of navel-gazing on Kieslowski’s behalf; in fact, the film is self-deferential to an almost painful degree, as Filip’s need to record the world almost becomes more important than living in it, and the all-consuming passion edges the protagonist towards unlikability in the film’s latter stages. Laced with some biting satire aimed at the humourless and hopelessly literal-minded Communist bureaucrats who supervise and attempt to shape Filip's burgeoning documentary career, The Camera Buff is always an interesting film, as Kieslowski clearly knows well the challenges facing the artist in such an environment, and the sacrifices those close to them make in order to allow artists room to do their work.
Score: 78/100
Filmed immediately after the declaration of martial law in early 80’s Poland, No End is Kieslowski’s dry run for Blue, both are wrenching and beautifully-lensed studies of one woman’s struggle to deal with the death of loved ones in a larger politically-charged context. Where they differ: While similarly bleak and sorrowful, Blue finds a tortured peace, a painful hope, where No End is a giant sinkhole of despair. Echoes of my favourite Minghella film, Truly, Madly, Deeply, can be heard throughout as the attempts of a beautiful widow to deal with her suddenly and unexpectedly dead partner are complicated by his implicit continuing presence (and explicit on-screen appearance) in her life. Kieslowski’s most overtly political film, No End also follows the court case of one of the dead husband’s clients, a member of Solidarity and hence a victim of the recent crackdown brought about by the aforementioned declaration of marshall law. I’m dunno if the film really earns its horrific ending, as I’m not convinced that Ulla (the ravishing Grazyna Szpapolowska)
would so blithely dispatch herself from this world and her beloved son, but it is a finale that will surely set viewer’s tongues wagging, whether in agreement or disconcertion.
Score: 86/100
Blind Chance is the thrice-told tale of a young medical student’s various fates, all dependant upon whether or not he (Witek) catches a train fast-departing from the station is clearly the defining influence on Tom Tykwer’s frenetic and electric Run Lola Run as well as Peter Howitt’s more romantic comedy-inclined Sliding Doors. At first, the film has a disjointed and off-putting rhythm as Kieslowski doesn’t stoop to pander to his audience, but rather trusts that we’ll be able to piece together the fragments of this young man’s life in order to form a coherent narrative. Whether that trust is misplaced is, of course, a rather subjective call, but if you are paying attention to the film’s twists and turns, by the time the third episode takes shape, the image we have of this idealistic fellow is fully rounded and appealingly 3-dimensional. Boguslaw Linda gives a finely nuanced performance as Witek, playing in essence three characters in one, all of whom must behave plausibly and distinctively as their very different narratives play out, but each of whom must be, in the end, the same man despite their varying fates. While not as biting or memorable a comment on Polish life as his previous film, No End, Blind Chance is nonetheless a sly and incisive political commentary in the guise of a metaphysical examination of the state of humanity in a state-controlled universe
Score: 82/100
With its ironic Edenic reference, The Scar’s grim landscape of early 70s Poland is the backdrop to the story of one flawed but well-meaning man’s ambitious attempts to bring the benefits of industry to an unappreciative back-water town. The film’s documentary feel is no accident, as this is Kieslowski’s first feature film after a decade of documentary filmmaking, and the ragged feel of the film actually serves the subject matter well, even if it makes for some narrative hiccups and a certain unevenness in the quality of the performances and the overall production. The work of a filmmaker in chrysalis, The Scar is engaging and enlightening just often enough to pass muster; it certainly outlines a people, place and time in convincingly acerbic tones.
Score: 71/100
On the other hand, The Camera Buff is by Kieslowski’s standards, a light-hearted and playful romp through the gathering obsession of a lower middle pencil pusher. Filip acquires an 8mm camera in order to record his newborn child’s progress through this life, but the titular character soon becomes so enamoured with his new vocation that he risks everything--family, friends, employment—to indulge in his pursuits. As played by one of Kieslowski favourites, the wonderfully open-faced and clear-hearted Jerzy Stuhr (White, Decalogue), this is clearly a bit of navel-gazing on Kieslowski’s behalf; in fact, the film is self-deferential to an almost painful degree, as Filip’s need to record the world almost becomes more important than living in it, and the all-consuming passion edges the protagonist towards unlikability in the film’s latter stages. Laced with some biting satire aimed at the humourless and hopelessly literal-minded Communist bureaucrats who supervise and attempt to shape Filip's burgeoning documentary career, The Camera Buff is always an interesting film, as Kieslowski clearly knows well the challenges facing the artist in such an environment, and the sacrifices those close to them make in order to allow artists room to do their work.
Score: 78/100
Filmed immediately after the declaration of martial law in early 80’s Poland, No End is Kieslowski’s dry run for Blue, both are wrenching and beautifully-lensed studies of one woman’s struggle to deal with the death of loved ones in a larger politically-charged context. Where they differ: While similarly bleak and sorrowful, Blue finds a tortured peace, a painful hope, where No End is a giant sinkhole of despair. Echoes of my favourite Minghella film, Truly, Madly, Deeply, can be heard throughout as the attempts of a beautiful widow to deal with her suddenly and unexpectedly dead partner are complicated by his implicit continuing presence (and explicit on-screen appearance) in her life. Kieslowski’s most overtly political film, No End also follows the court case of one of the dead husband’s clients, a member of Solidarity and hence a victim of the recent crackdown brought about by the aforementioned declaration of marshall law. I’m dunno if the film really earns its horrific ending, as I’m not convinced that Ulla (the ravishing Grazyna Szpapolowska)
would so blithely dispatch herself from this world and her beloved son, but it is a finale that will surely set viewer’s tongues wagging, whether in agreement or disconcertion.
Score: 86/100
Blind Chance is the thrice-told tale of a young medical student’s various fates, all dependant upon whether or not he (Witek) catches a train fast-departing from the station is clearly the defining influence on Tom Tykwer’s frenetic and electric Run Lola Run as well as Peter Howitt’s more romantic comedy-inclined Sliding Doors. At first, the film has a disjointed and off-putting rhythm as Kieslowski doesn’t stoop to pander to his audience, but rather trusts that we’ll be able to piece together the fragments of this young man’s life in order to form a coherent narrative. Whether that trust is misplaced is, of course, a rather subjective call, but if you are paying attention to the film’s twists and turns, by the time the third episode takes shape, the image we have of this idealistic fellow is fully rounded and appealingly 3-dimensional. Boguslaw Linda gives a finely nuanced performance as Witek, playing in essence three characters in one, all of whom must behave plausibly and distinctively as their very different narratives play out, but each of whom must be, in the end, the same man despite their varying fates. While not as biting or memorable a comment on Polish life as his previous film, No End, Blind Chance is nonetheless a sly and incisive political commentary in the guise of a metaphysical examination of the state of humanity in a state-controlled universe
Score: 82/100
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