Spartacus: The Most Underrated Show on Television

When television critics usually put together theirs lists of the best shows currently on television, the lists tend to overlap and include the same few shows. This is not necessarily a bad thing, because they are usually right in naming a show like Breaking Bad or Parks and Recreation one of the best shows on television. However, one downside of this is that unless a show experiences a sudden precipitous drop in quality, the critics will continue to laud it as one of the best shows on television without acknowledging that other shows may be just as good. In other cases, such as with new shows like Game of Thrones and Homeland (both outstanding, by the way), advance buzz is so positive that a place at the big boy table is all but assured.  One show that has gotten lost in the shuffle of these great shows is Starz's signature original series, Spartacus.

I can understand why Spartacus is so criminally underrated. As I mentioned before, it's on Starz, which doesn't have nearly the profile of HBO or Showtime when it comes to original series. The network's other scripted originals  have not had either the critical success (Camelot, Crash) nor the commercial success (Boss, Party Down) to last more than a couple of seasons. Though its ratings are nowhere near those of HBO's and Showtime's hit shows, Spartacus draws far more viewers per week than any of Starz's other shows.

Another obstacle Spartacus faces is its air date. For every other network, Friday night is a death zone.  Cable networks don't generally air any original shows on Fridays and the broadcast networks tend to air genre shows with extremely small but incredibly loyal fanbases (i.e. Fringe and the dearly-departed Chuck).  Starz has decided that instead of competing against the other pay cable networks and airing their programs on Sunday night, they have tried to carve out their own original night of programming, but nobody wants to watch serious television on Friday night. People go to the movies or go out and party after a long work week. Those who do stay at home usually do those same things without going out, so television takes a back seat.

It's a shame, because people are missing out on one of the most gratifying viewing experiences on television. One word perfectly describes the Spartacus viewing experience: primal. This show portrays people who have no qualms about giving in to their most primitive animal instincts. All the characters are as horny as they are bloodthirsty, and this combination provides a colorful backdrop for the narrative to unfold. The visuals recall Zack Snyder's blockbuster 300, but the creators of the show have adopted that film's abundant use of greenscreens and ramped up the intensity in every way. Every color, whether in the sky or the characters' wardrobes, boldly pops off the screen, particularly the color red.

The amount of blood shed in the show's 24 episodes that have aired so far (including the prequel Gods of the Arena) is truly staggering. The arena becomes a certifiable Yellowstone Park of blood and guts vacating the body at all angles. No attention is paid to the fact that the average person only has about 6 quarts of blood, because when it comes to violence, Spartacus is all style over substance. If 6 quarts of blood coming out of a throat can look awesome, science will be banished to the mines and the show will make it happen.

Some might accuse this show of glorifying violence, but those who say so are ultimately missing the point. The people who come to the games want to be entertained, and for them, entertainment means as much death and bloodshed as possible, and the gladiators who are thrust into the arena know it. They take pride in representing their masters, and the best way to do so is to leave carnage in their wake. The excessive blood spurts are not solely means of catching the television viewer's eye, but also the eye of the viewer in the arena. They view the action in front of them that way, so the creators of the show aim to simulate what they believe a spectator experience at the gladiatorial games would feel like for everyone from the lowliest peasant in the stands to the politicians and slave owners in the central box.

While the violence drives much of the plot of the show, sex is portrayed on screen just as frequently. Spartacus has absolutely no shame when it comes to showing bare flesh.This show has enough fornication in it to make the late-night Skinemax offerings look positively tame by comparison. However, unlike those films you'll see at midnight on Cinemax, the nudity in Spartacus is far from gratuitous. The gladiators are not given more than a cloth to begin with, so seeing them without it on just feels routine. As for the rich citizens of Capua, sex not only brings pleasure, but is also used as a bargaining tool. Batiatus promises a friend free reign to satisfy himself with any of his slaves, and in return he secures favor for his gladiators in the next games or patronage from powerful politicians.

What elevates Spartacus to the level of great television is not just its abundance of sex and violence (otherwise, True Blood would be a great show too, and that's obviously not the case), but its wonderful storytelling prowess. The audience is able to invest in these characters because while at first they are presented as paper-thin archetypes, they gradually reveal themselves as compelling three-dimensional creations. We root hard for the gladiators to survive and get revenge against those who have wronged them, but more interestingly, we are able to root for Batiatus and Lucretia to succeed in their devious schemes while simultaneosuly rooting for their downfall.

Spartacus starts slowly, but if you follow the Five-Episode Rule, I guarantee a wholly unique viewing experience. No show will make you cheer out loud more frequently (unless you're Rick Santorum) in response to the events that occur on screen. Even with the unfortunate death of the great Andy Whitfield, who played Spartacus in the first season, the show has maintained its momentum. After an awkward beginning to this season, his replacement, Liam McIntyre (pictured above), has taken ownership of the role and made it compelling in his own way. Coming off arguably the show's best episode, there's no better time than now to go back to the beginning and experience the furiously primal force that is Spartacus.

Why Will Ferrell Should Host The Oscars

Scouring the Internet yesterday, one could found thousands of websites declaring this year's Oscar ceremony somewhat of a national tragedy.  Many blamed Billy Crystal's tepid return to hosting, others blamed the producers' tendency to shove nostalgia down the audience's throat both via smug clips of actors talking about going to the movies and the Cirque du Soleil performance that was supposed to simulate the experience of going to the movies but did not resemble it in the least.  Others blamed the predictability of the awards themselves, with The Artist seemingly preordained to win Best Picture for months.  

Furthermore, several entertainment websites brainstormed about who should host next year's Oscars (if the world doesn't end, of course), and they came up with many of the same names, from Seth Rogen (who was great hosting the Independent Spirit Awards) to Chris Rock (pretty funny when presenting best animated film) and Emma Stone (who many found charming but was actually interminable in her Oscar presenting debut).  However, none of these lists included the person who should host the Oscars in 2013: Will Ferrell.

Even at 44 years old, Ferrell has many fans in the coveted younger demographic advertisers love and his position as host would make the ceremony worth watching to them.  He is always hilarious outside of his movies (as seen here) and his appearance with Zach Galifianakis to present Best Original song was one of the few highlights of Oscar night.  He has also been a great presenter at past Oscar ceremonies, so his inherent familiarity with the atmosphere would give him an advantage over someone like Rogen, who has only presented once.

Most importantly, if Ferrell were to host the Oscars, he would bring the element of unpredictability that Billy Crystal sorely lacked.  Everyone knew exactly the kind of schtick Billy Crystal would bring as host, and it made for unwatchable television.  Meanwhile, Ferrell is a master improviser, so the potential for an off the cuff joke on the level of John Stewart's Three-Six Mafia jab is extremely high.  While many might consider him too weird to host the Oscars, that might be exactly what the show needs, especially if the awards themselves are all but predetermined.  Ferrell is a big enough star that he can get away with saying just about anything in front of his peers without suffering the consequences (except he might not star in any Weinstein Company movies anytime soon).

Whoever gets the unenviable job of producing the Oscars should realize that Will Ferrell combines the younger appeal that Anne Hathaway and James Franco were supposed to bring with the showmanship and fearlessness of Billy Crystal at his best.  The Oscars might never be wholly compelling television, but naming Will Ferrell as Oscar host would signal to audiences that the producers at least have the ambition to try and make it so.

Award-Winning Actor-Director Pairings I'd Love to See

The other day, as I was trying (and failing) to fall asleep at around 2 in the morning, I found myself thinking about the Oscars. More specifically, I was thinking about people who have been nominated for them in the past and how I wish they would do work that good again. I then thought about some of this year's acting and directing nominees and pondered their careers up to this point and what the future holds for them. Some of them will most likely be back at the ceremony fairly soon as nominees (Clooney, Pitt, Viola Davis, Terrence Malick) while several others will most likely never go to the show in any capacity again (everyone involved with The Artist). From there, my brain made the weirdly irrational leap (again, 2  in the morning) to actors and directors who have had past glory, both recent and not, who I think could produce work that could land them in the audience of the biggest show in show business. Without further ado, here are ten actor-director pairing I would love to see along with the number of Academy Award nominations they have received in the past:

Note: number of Oscar nominations in parentheses


Joe Pesci (2) and David Mamet (2)
Weirdly, this was the first pair that entered my mind and inspired me to imagine further pairings. I have absolutely no idea how I came to think of this duo, but as soon as I did, I immediately hailed myself as a genius. The appeal of this pairing is simple and irresistible (unless you're an evangelical wingnut): nobody curses on screen with more panache then Joe Pesci, and nobody writes profanity better than David Mamet. These are not opinions, these are Coors Light cold hard facts. While Pesci may be taking it easy of late (he's been in two movies since 1998), short of reuniting with another director to be mentioned later, getting his hands on a Mamet script might be the best thing he can do to make people remember just how awesome he used to be. For Mamet, the upside is also great. While his abilities as a visual filmmaker may not be up to par with the rest of the directors on this list, he still possesses a unique storytelling style and verbal flair that has been known to produce some iconic lines in cinema history.  The Kings of Cursing should unite and make the MPAA blush!

Tom Hardy (0) and Martin Scorsese (10)
That zero next to Tom Hardy's name does not reflect his immense talent. I have a feeling that he will be up for a golden statue in the next five years, and I think Scorsese is just the guy to guide him to it. Nobody makes movies about the trials of masculinity better than Martin Scorsese, and Hardy might be the manliest actor working today. To this point in his career, he has shown that he will do absolutely anything for a role, transforming his body for every film he has done, whether he has to be svelte and suave for Inception or muscle-bound and menacing for Warrior. Hardy also has shown remarkable range as an actor, often within the same performance.  He can be equally charming and brutish, and the number of characters from Martin Scorsese films that carry both these qualities is tremendous.

Nicolas Cage (2) and Francis Ford Coppola (14)
Considering the length of both of their careers, I find it incredible that Nicolas Cage has never been in any of his uncle's films. Francis has seemed willing to help out his family in the past, though sometimes with less than satisfactory results (his daughter Sofia in Godfather Part III comes to mind). In this particular case, though, I think these two desperately need each other. Cage's troubles, both on and off screen, have been well-documented, and while working with his uncle might not help him escape his financial troubles, it may help him get out of creative debt. Meanwhile, Francis Ford Coppola, one of the most celebrated and influential filmmakers of all time, has seemingly disappeared from the cinema world. He has made a few films over the years (Youth Without Youth, Tetro, Twixt), but they were all critically panned and commercially irrelevant.  Both of these men might not have the motivation to create something both critically and commercially viable (each seemingly wants to do one and not the other), but in their respective heydays, they did work that I love and I can just imagine how much positive press they would get if they worked together. Worst case scenario, Coppola should just give some of his wine money to his nephew to get him out of debt and away from shitty superhero sequels.

Christian Bale (1) and Darren Aronofsky (1)
Both of these men have reputations of being very intense and incredibly meticulous, so why not bring them together? All of Aronofsky's films involve mentally unstable protagonists pushing themselves to their physical limits without the capability to stop. Christian Bale, with his legendary physical commitment to his roles, would make a perfect protagonist for an Aronofsky movie. It's already almost happened twice.  Aronofsky was one of the original directors considered for Batman Begins, and Bale was in the running to play the lead in Aronosky's upcoming biblical epic about Noah. Hopefully, the third time's the charm, as these two are arguably the most perfect match on this list.

Michael Fassbender (0) and Christopher Nolan (3)
If Christopher Nolan can make Christian Bale a movie star, why can't he do it with a man who not only looks like Bale but also shares many of his qualities as an actor? Michael Fassbender is on the verge of superstardom, and it's no accident. The guy does quality work every time out. Unlike Bale, he does not have a bad performance anywhere on his resume and he seems the perfect candidate to topline whatever Nolan's first post-Batman project winds up being. Nolan has always been great at filling out his big-budget action spectacles with respected dramatic actors, and right now, very few people are getting more respect than Fassbender. After working with the likes of Quentin Tarantino, Steven Soderbergh, and Ridley Scott, aligning himself with the most popular working director can only do wonders for his Q-rating.

Lindsay Lohan (0) and Quentin Tarantino (4)
Before anyone chastizes me for suggesting that Lindsay Lohan should never be allowed to work in Hollywood again, hear me out.  In his movies, Quentin Tarantino has cast a once-popular actor who had not been getting good work in recent years and gave them a lead role in a major film.  He did it with John Travolta in Pulp Fiction, Pam Grier in Jackie Brown, and David Carradine in Kill Bill.  All of these actors gave fantastic performances, and in Travolta's case, it netted him an Oscar nomination and rejuvenated his career. While the same did not exactly happen for Grier and Carradine, I think Tarantino can give Lohan a Travolta-like adrenaline needle to the heart. It could be argued that she has a career beyond saving, but she's still only 25 years old and if there is anyone that can bring an actor back to the heights of their initial fame, it's Quentin Tarantino.

Michelle Williams (3) and The Coen Brothers (14)
I have heard Michelle Williams pronounced the next Meryl Streep on several occasions on the heels of her third Oscar nomination (even though she's pitted against the current Meryl Streep) due to her versatility and ability to completely immerse herself in a character. One could argue that over the years, the Coen Brothers have created some of the most memorable and interesting characters of the silver screen, from H.I. McDonough and Marge Gunderson to The Dude and Anton Chigurh. To me, Williams seems less like Streep and more like a prettier Frances McDormand, a Coen staple. She has played memorable characters in her films (most recently Marilyn Monroe), but she seems to carry herself more like a character actress than a movie star. The Coen brothers specialize in creating uniquely quirky and nuanced characters, and I feel that Williams would thrive in a role like that.  If Carey Mulligan, with whom I see similarities with Williams, can play a key role in a Coens films as she will in Inside Llewyn Davis later this year, then Michelle Williams should be lined up for whatever the Coen brothers have lined up next.

Meryl Streep (17) and Steven Soderbergh (3)
Unlike all of these other pairings, I can't really give a specific set of reasons why I want Meryl Streep and Steven Soderbergh to work on the same film. It's not exactly a "duh" pairing along the lines of Bale and Aronofsky, but I want to see it equally as much. Streep is the best actress alive, and she has worked with many of the best directors over the years, but something about her working with Soderbergh makes me want that pairing more than any other, and I think I know what it is. Steven Soderbergh always gets remarkable ensemble casts for his films, and between Out of Sight, Traffic, the Oceans Trilogy, and Contagion, it seems like he has worked with every major movie star alive today. However, he has not worked with Streep, and my inner fanboy trembles with the potential for magic these two could work together in his next big ensemble film.

Vince Vaughn (0) and Woody Allen (23)
Wait, what? Vince Vaughn in a Woody Allen movie? That's like Barack Obama getting rid of Joe Biden and naming Rick Santorum as his next Vice President! Woody Allen would never be able to tolerate working with the leader of the Frat Pack, he's too obsessed with improv, and Woody's words are gospel! You should be forced to watch The Dilemma on loop for a week for even suggesting the idea! To everyone who just uttered one of these sentences either out loud or in their heads, hold your damn faces and let me explain.  In case you forgot, Woody Allen made his highest-grossing film ever last year and it happened to star Vince Vaughn's good pal Owen Wilson, so the notion of a former frat-packer headlining an acclaimed Woody Allen movie isn't so foreign. Most importantly, Vince Vaughn's schtick, talking in a whiny voice at supersonic velocity, is almost identical to what Woody Allen used to do back when he acted in his own films. Vince Vaughn may be the coolest guy in the room in all of his movies, but he could just as easily be the pretentious-sounding misunderstood misanthrope that is the hallmark lead character of Woody Allen's finest comedies. Can you believe Vaughn hasn't had a hit since Wedding Crashers?  That was seven years ago! I guarantee that if Vaughn got involved in an Allen picture, it would be the perfect shot in the arm of his slowly declining career.

Kate Winslet (6) and Paul Thomas Anderson (5)
Like Streep and Soderbergh, this pairing does not really have a superficial link that would signal them as a great pair in the future. At this point, I'm just thinking of the most esteemed actors and directors off the top of my head and checking to see whether they have worked together or not in the past. I really wanted to put Kate Winslet with someone because she has more Oscar nominations by the age of 35 than anyone in history. Before her career is over, she may approach Meryl Streep's record nomination total at the rate she is going.  When it came to thinking of a director capable of presenting her a real challenge, Paul Thomas Anderson was the first name that came to mind. He gave the world one of the great protagonists of the last ten years in Daniel Plainview, so when thinking about the possibility of Anderson making another film with a female character with an equally commanding screen presence, I could only think of one actress who could fill that role and make it iconic: Kate Winslet.

The 5 Episode Rule: How To Determine TV Drama Greatness

Back in 2007, I started watching a show on AMC called Mad Men. It was the first original scripted series the network had ever done and I was excited to see a real television show on a channel that only played action movies of varying quality (True Lies of course being the most abundantly played of the bunch). Its surface elements immediately jumped out at me: its 1960s setting, the beautiful people dressed in amazing clothes, the allure of Madison Avenue, and the promise of real historical events woven into the narrative. As I began to watch the show and learn about these characters, my interest was still fairly high through the first four episodes, but the stories of these seemingly soulless people were not quite grabbing me by the lapel.  The only things that I knew I loved about the show other than its impeccable production design were Don Draper's suits and Joan Holloway's gravity-defying curves. However, come episode five, when a major secret about Don's past came to light, I immediately found myself completely hooked not just by the style of the show, but the substance as well. Cut to almost five years and 52 episodes later, and Mad Men is one of my all-time favorite television shows.

The fact that I can recall the exact moment I became hooked on the show gives credence to a theory that I did not form until well after I started watching Mad Men. After that first example, I decided to test it out on some other shows that were either getting good buzz in advance of their premier or had already received the critical acclaim but had slipped through my cracks until Netflix saved the day. After several successful trials (Deadwood, The Wire, Sons of Anarchy, and Homeland to name a few), I have come to the conclusion that one can determine whether a dramatic series can achieve greatness after five episodes have aired. No complicated mathematical equation brought me to this conclusion, but I do believe that these great shows all follow a formula: great fifth episode equals great show.

The greatest mistake most television viewers make is judging a show based on a pilot alone. While a pilot can often indicate the quality of a show, it more frequently gets burdened with the necessity of establishing the premise of the show and the rules of the world its characters live in. The best shows can do this while simultaneously creating well-developed characters who immediately appeal to the viewer and make him or her want to know what happens next. Some, like "Friday Night Lights," one of the best pilots of the last decade, are crafted as short films both in their visual style and mode of storytelling. Usually, however, pilots are merely the first pieces in a greater puzzle that requires the viewer to stick around in the coming weeks to see what happens next.

The second episode of a good show is usually not as well-done as the pilot, but still continues to add more pieces to the narrative. It's usually shot several months after the pilot after a network decides the show is fit to go to series, so the continuity of the show from episode one to episode two is incredibly difficult to maintain because a rhythm of production for the series has not yet been established. The cast and crew are just beginning to acquire a comfort level with each other and doing that takes time. The director of a pilot is usually a film director (i.e. Peter Berg on Friday Night Lights or Martin Scorsese on Boardwalk Empire) that may be a producer on the show but is not involved with day-to-day production.  From there, shows usually hire a small group of directors who become familiar with the show's process and allow for a visual and narrative coherence to develop.

This process also plays out over the third and fourth episodes. The main narrative continues to move forward, more side plots and secondary characters are introduced, and the world of the show slowly begins to establish itself. At this point, if a viewer is still watching, either the main character(s) are interesting or the main plot begins to show promise, yet still retains the potential to fall apart (see: another AMC show, The Killing). In most shows, the three episodes after the pilot deal with the fallout from the events that happened in that debut episode. The plot points established in the pilot remain front and center and have the undivided attention of the characters.

In my experience, episode five usually changes the game and demonstrates that a show can sustain a high level of quality going forward. A new plot point is introduced that could open up the general narrative of the piece and take it in several different directions. A couple notable examples of this would be the aforementioned example from Mad Men or the murder of the terrorist informant in Homeland. By this point in the series, a behind-the-scenes rhythm has been established and the confidence in the storytelling is stronger going forward and actors start to add more interesting layers to their characters.

Even though I call this self-discovered phenomenon the Five Episode Rule, like all rules, there are exceptions. On the one hand, my favorite show of all time, Breaking Bad, took only five minutes to hook me, not five episodes. Conversely, a show like Dexter took a little longer to give the audience a true game-changing moment (when Dexter discovers his mother's identity). However, the biggest exception to the five-episode rule is comedy.

Comedies almost always take longer to establish themselves (if they ever do) and I've come up with three major reasons why:

1. While most dramas are one hour, most comedies are half-hour show, which inherently restricts how much content each episode can have. Comedy is so reliant on rhythm in its delivery of jokes that when the time one has to deliver the funny is reduced, the pressure is on the show's writers to cram as many jokes in as possible to make the reader laugh and worry about establishing a plot later.

2. Because plotting on a comedy is perceived as less important than it is in drama, it's much more difficult for  comedies to find a hook for the audience to latch onto in the way of a premise. More often than not, comedies create jokes from the premise instead of the other way around, which is what the best comedies on television accomplish.

3. As countless comedians have said, comedy is incredibly difficult, and crafting good comedy is doubly difficult. Good comedy takes time to develop, and whether it's a stand-up set or a television series, there have to be some jokess along the way that don't land to determine what does and does not work.  A great example of a comedy show taking its time to develop is Parks and Recreation. The show's six-season first episode has some charm and several laughs, but one can tell that there was something not quite right about the show. The characters were not quite real human beings yet and an overall comedic rhythm was yet to be established.  However, midway through the second season and on, those who stuck with the show began to experience what many believe to be the best comedy on television. The beauty of not having to be a slave to plot allows for comedies to take their time in developing a joke-delivery cadence and play with the formulas of storytelling structure. It creates more pressure to be funny, but it simultaneously presents a challenge that any smart comedy writing staff should relish to make something both narratively compelling and hilarious simultaneously.

From this point forth, I present avid television watchers with a challenge. Pick a show that is about to premier or you have not seen, and watch the first episode.  If it looks promising, watch the next three episodes, but do not give up if the narrative seems slow.  Finally, watch the fifth episode, and from there you can decide whether a show is great or not.  If it's not, then you have dodged a bullet and it was never meant to be.  I currently am putting two new shows to this test: HBO's Luck and ABC's The River.  Both shows are coming off less-than-stellar third episodes, but I'm holding off judgment for another two weeks because I have faith in the formula.

Rob Gronkowski: The Ultimate Bro

When he's not busy hanging out with porn stars, flirting with entertainment reporters, or showing off his Spanish-speaking skills, Rob Gronkowski has been developing into the most talked about non-quarterback star in the NFL.  He had the best statistical season ever for a tight end, setting records for most receiving yards  (1,327) and touchdowns (18) at the position.  The biggest story leading up to the Super Bowl not involving Peyton Manning has been the status of Gronkowski's ankle heading into the game on Sunday.  Other than Tom Brady and Eli Manning, Gronk has been the most in-demand athlete in Indianapolis this week.  This kind of attention is unprecedented for a tight end, and while I would like to believe that the attention is due to his fantastic play on the field, the reality is that his popularity has skyrocketed not just because of his play, but because he has become the perfect representation of the modern day bro.

In order to properly convey how Rob Gronkowski has emerged as the ultimate personification of bro culture, I will now proceed to use as many bro puns as I possibly can before throwing myself in front of a moving car (Wax broetic, if you will).  Gronk (no true bro would ever address him by his slave name) emits a brodor only emulated by the most brolific corporate slimeballs.  In every Gronk interview I have seen, he maintains a perfect broker (poker for the uninitiated) face while giving stock answers to questions from reporters.  He uses every interview cliche in the book, such as the classic "taking it day by day" or "I do what's best for the team," and he does so with classic bro cadence, over-enunciating  every vowel as though he believes that will satisfy the reporters who have gravitated to him like he's the center of the brolar system.

  

Giving these uninteresting stock answers to the media is the classic "Patriot Way" under Bill Belichick, but Gronk is the one Patriot who has seemingly transcended the blandness of said "Patriot Way" and made it endearing.  Perhaps his broad grin (pun intended) that never leaves his face stands as the main reason, but in actuality, what sets Gronk apart and elevates him to a seat on the Bro High Council is his voice.  The Pennsylvania accent combined with his forceful baritone diction and perfectly tuned brofaw makes for a truly brommanding presence.

Think about other great tight ends currently in the NFL:  Jimmy Graham, Tony Gonzalez, Antonio Gates, Vernon Davis, Jason Witten, even Gronk's own teammate Aaron Hernandez.  They're all fantastic players who are revolutionizing the way the position is played, and yet nobody considers them fascinating beyond the gridiron.  They may be classy (an adjective that has been used to describe Tony Gonzalez for over a decade), but classy is less interesting than a cricket match.  Gronk has capitalized on his amazing play and earned the admiration of not just bros, but all football fans, consequently becoming the most famous tight end in NFL history.

There are dozens of Gronk tribute videos on Youtube, Jim Brome (the voice of all sports bros) talks about him every with the brimming enthusiasm of a 12-year-old girl talking about Justin Bieber, and "Gronk" has even turned into a verb.  Whereas "Tebowing" is defined as assuming the thinker pose, "Gronking" involves throwing something to the ground as forcefully as possible to imitate a classic Gronk touchdown spike.  Even more amazing: Gronk has taken it all in stride, participating in many videos that capitalize on his brodom.

Of course, whenever a star emerges so quickly as Mr. Gronkowski has, there is always a backlash.  It has not arrived yet from the general public, but I feel bound by my duties as a broologist in training to warn everyone of the coming bropocalypse.  Gronk has become so ubiquitous within the pop culture landscape these days that there is a strong risk of a brovelution.  Soon, everyone will talk and act like Gronk.  Gronking will evolve from spiking footballs to spiking babies.  Bro will become the new official language of the United States.  In other words, if Rob Gronkowski's star continues to rise, we could be headed for a disaster of biblical broportions.    In conclusion: Go Giants!

My Theater-Going Dilemma

I'm poor as hell.  Not having a job for the last seven months will do that to you.  It's difficult for me to go out with my friends if I do not have money to spend on anything because I need to save it to pay my phone bill.  Where this really hurts a wannabe cinephile like me is at the movie theater, where right now there are multiple movies that I would very much like to see (the posters for two of those films are above).  However, thinking about it now, I find that even if I did have plenty of disposable income to spend on movie tickets, I still probably would not go out to see a film like "Haywire" or "The Grey," even though they both appear to be high quality films judging by their scores on Rotten Tomatoes (80 and 78%, respectively).  That both of these films were released in January, a month where the studios usually dump their foulest drek (see Contraband) makes them more worthy of attention when the options for quality films in theaters remains limited.  Yet despite this, I still would not see them in the theaters, even if I had the money, and I have a few reasons why:

1.  Tickets are expensive


The most obvious reason, but no matter how rich I am, I still would feel conned when I give the movie theaters 12 dollars to see a movie on a Friday night.  In my opinion, it makes very little economic sense to go see a movie that does not carry a guarantee that I will approve of it and therefore make it money well spent (If you want that guarantee, go see The Room at midnight and thank me later).  Plus, with Netflix, I have so many more options for much less money.  One movie ticket costs almost one month of what I pay for Netflix service, and if faced with paying 10 to 12 dollars for one film and two hours of viewing time or 17 dollars and 20 hours, I'll take the latter equation every time.

2.  I can wait to see it through Netflix


While I may really want to see these films, the desire to see them on the big screen does not register strongly enough for me to pay the money and make the drive to the theater.  I can wait until they are released on DVD and put them in my Netflix queue and watch them on my 55-inch HD screen from the comfort of my couch.  In the meantime, I'll just watch the other movies that come in from my queue without feeling like I am missing out on a transcendent theater-going experience.

3.  The quality of the home-viewing experience


These days, home theater systems are so high-performance that one can very nearly replicate and in some instances exceed the experience of watching a film in the theater.  One can do all of this without having to drive in the cold to a megaplex filled with annoying people who insist on talking and texting through the entire film.  No one who truly values the movie watching experience like myself wants to put up with these plebeian imbeciles.  Add in the fact that theaters have a captive audience to show commercials (which I hate) and previews (which I love).  On top of that, once the movie starts, if you have to go to the bathroom, you are SOL because you can't pause the film.  It's the same argument for watching sports at home: convenience remains king, and having to put up with all of those uncontrollable external factors is the farthest thing from convenient.  Maybe theater chains should sue electronics manufacturers for making products that are so good that it hurts their bottom line.

4. I don't like seeing movies alone


I of course mean I don't like going to theaters by myself, but watching alone at home feels completely normal.  Call me weird, but going to the theater by myself makes me feel like a total lowlife who has no friends.  I've only gone to the theater by myself three times in my entire life (Clerks 2, Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World, and Tree of Life) and each time it was a strange feeling.  My ability to watch the film was not affected by being alone, but to me, the theater was always meant to be a social gathering place.  Yes, the irony of hanging out with friends without being able to talk to them is not lost on me, but for me, the theater-going experience is always better when shared with people I know and care about.  We can laugh, gasp, or cry together.  Doing that alone makes me incredibly self-conscious because I do not know if the other people in the audience are viewing the film the same way I am.  What I enjoy as much as the films themselves are the few minutes fresh out of the theater as the credits roll and the music plays.  I can recap with my friends or family member, hear their opinions, share mine, crack jokes about the film, and just generally enjoy each other's company.  The point is that because I am far and away the biggest film buff in my friend group, the only films I can see in the theater with them are the summer blockbuster action movies and the big Christmas movie.  Finding someone to accompany me to all the awards contenders and art-house curios I want to see remains tremendously difficult and therefore not worth the effort of going to the theater.

(Note: my father is the only person I know who rivals my voracious cinematic appetite and could possibly solve that last problem, but he lives halfway across the country, hence the conundrum.)



I'm not one of those people that despises the general theater-going experience, even though I mentioned numerous things that bother me about it.  What keeps my desire to go to the theater strong is the possibility of a memorable experience like seeing 300 with hundreds of other gawking fanboys, seeing Borat and laughing at the Jewish jokes louder than everyone else, or even experiencing the horror of the last Indiana Jones film at midnight with a sellout crowd (actually, never mind, that  last one never happened).  I go to the theater hoping for a memory like that, and when I see a film I'm interested in like "The Grey" playing in theaters, I pause and weigh the probability that I will have an unforgettable theatrical experience.  After maybe a minute, I will come to the following conclusion: It just doesn't feel like something I HAVE to see on the big screen (see: Tree of Life) in order to obtain maximum enjoyment, which is the whole reason we go to the movies at all.

50/50: Most Underrated Film of 2011

In 1983, a film chronicling the close relationship between two people while one of them battles cancer was released.  The film featured many funny moments but also was able to inject some heartbreaking drama into the narrative, with the protagonist realizing in the face of death the true importance of the people closest to her.  The film was Terms of Endearment, which became a major box-office sensation and went on to win five Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

Fast forward 28 years to the release of another film chronicling the relationship between two people while one of them battles cancer.  The film features many funny moments but is also able to inject some heartbreaking drama into the narrative with the protagonist realizing in the face of death the true importance of the people closest to him.  The film is 50/50, which did not become a major box-office sensation and will not be nominated for any Academy Awards, much less win.

Granted, Terms of Endearment starred two acting legends who both won Oscars for their performances in the film (Shirley MacLaine and Jack Nicholson) and it had the unbeatable scene of a cute kid crying uncontrollably at his mother's bedside as she lay dying, while 50/50 had Seth Rogen and pot-smoking old people.  However, I feel that both critics and audiences gave 50/50 a tremendously tough break by not giving it more recognition.

There have been other films that have been underrated this year in one way or another.  "Senna," the wonderful documentary about legendary Formula 1 driver Ayrton Senna, did not really catch on in this country and received very little awards recognition, but in the UK, the film is nominated for three BAFTAs, including Best British Film, so at least some critics are recognizing its brilliance.  "Drive" is a film that was beloved by many critics and moviegoers (myself included), received a ton of press, yet received no recognition during awards season, culminating in Albert Brooks' egregious Oscar snub this morning.  "Take Shelter" did not catch on with art-house audiences, never playing in more than 100 screens and grossing just shy of $2 million, nor did it receive any awards-season recognition, but it wound up on many critics' top ten lists at the end of the year, so it cannot be considered completely underrated.

50/50 did really well with critics, scoring 93% on Rotten Tomatoes, with the consensus being: "A good-hearted film about a difficult topic, 50/50 maneuvers between jokes and drama with surprising finesse."  The film, while it did not light the box office on fire, still did relatively well, grossing $34 million from an $8 million budget.  It was also nominated for two Golden Globes, best actor for Joseph Gordon-Levitt and best picture-musical or comedy.

However, even with all of this praise, it still feels as though 50/50 has mostly been forgotten, which is a shame considering it is one of the best films of 2011.  It features a great Academy-snubbed script from Will Reiser, a real-life cancer survivor whose story this film is based on.  It features a great central performance from Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who effortlessly handles both the lighter and darker moments of the narrative with equal panache.  The most underrated aspect of this film and its secret weapon is Seth Rogen, Reiser's real-life friend who  plays a version of himself and the film and brings a surprising amount of warmth and heart to the story of a young man dealing with the possibility of death.  Even in a year where dogs in movies have gotten a ton of love from the press, poor Skeletor the greyhound, Gordon Levitt's loyal companion, has been completely forgotten.

But getting back to Seth Rogen: I believe him to be the main reason this film has not become an awards season staple like it should have.  His involvement in the film probably signaled to Academy voters that this film should not be taken seriously because how could a raunchy Seth Rogen comedy actually be an award-worthy film?  And since it didn't have the financial success of Bridesmaids (an inferior film), there was no pressure from outside sources to recognize it come awards season.  The fact that 50/50 was not nominated in the original screenplay category alongside Bridesmaids should be considered a lowdown dirty shame.

Those who dismiss it as a Seth Rogen vehicle or as "that cancer comedy" however are completely blind to the true nature of the film.  Yes, it has some fantastically hysterical moments (including the best Total Recall reference in movie history), but the film never has a false emotional moment (the same cannot be said for the Best Picture frontrunner, The Artist) even though the audience has a pretty good idea what the outcome will be.  The amount of emotional investment Reiser and director Jonathan Levine put into these characters allows the audience feel like they experiencing the main character's disease personally without feeling emotionally manipulated.  50/50 had a tremendously high degree of difficulty and pulled it off better than I think most people could have imagined.

Hopefully, as is the case with many great films, 50/50 becomes more appreciated a few years down the road when audiences can look back on the Best Picture nominees for this year's Oscars and ask themselves some of the following questions: "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close?  I've never even heard of that!  Wait, Tom Hanks was in that...? Was that pile of crap really better than 50/50 or Drive?  The Help?  That movie that totally glossed over race relations got nominated for Best Picture?!?!?!?   God, the Oscars suck!"