My Trio

I suppose Time Magazine's Joel Stein is an okay kind of guy. I've never met him. He seems to have a bit of a wit, however dry, for someone who works at Time Magazine, the world's capitol of gravitas and all that. In the end, there is nothing wrong with Joel Stein that a robust multivitamin couldn't remedy. But what was he thinking when Trio TV gave him the gig of a lifetime? I mean, who wants to watch endless hours of Battle of the Network Stars?

I mean, seriously, who even watched Battle of the Network stars back then, when Telly Savalas and Gabe Kaplan had juice? Not me: and I was ever the hip 6 year old. Who loves ya, baby?

Now, If Laura Zalaznick of Trio Tv called The Corsair tommorrow (call me, Laura, call ... me ...) and asked: What low budget high quality shows would you program for Trio TV? Remember, we only have a fraction of the network budgets, but we want high quality. I would say: Laura, have you ever read my blog? I am all about low budget high quality.

Anyhoo: These are some of my picks:

Dummy. Gritty 70s drama of urban social decline -- thanks, Ed Koch! Asshole! Koch turned NYC into a Guns n Roses video, with Mr. Brownstone creeping around Central Park in a raincoat with nothing on underneath. Get this plot, though, peeps: LeVar Burton plays a deaf and dumb mute who is framed for the death of a prostitute (Kuta Kinte, you are a framed man!). But will we get justice from the man? Will a young Paul Sorvino get him redemption when he cannot even communicate with his client? Or will "Dummy" just become another urban statistic on the Koch street? Despite the overall bleakness, this a very, very cool social commentary.


Masterpiece Theater: Last of the Mohicans. No, not the cheesy Michael Mann MTV video with Daniel Day Lewis and Madeline Stowe giving florid, overproduced romance. No, this one was the real deal. The French and Indian War, my little pomegranates. Colonial wars involving trappers and Native Americans dressed in coonskin and caribou, muskets at the ready. The Massachusetts Bay Colonizers and what not. Dodgy alliances, snow and muskets -- we're talking the French and Indian War, people, work with me here. The drama, fo' shizit. For some bizarre reason the Masterpiece Theater programs made in the 70s -- arguably the best programming of all time -- languish in someone's vault, uncherished and unsung. American history geek? (raises hand sheepishly) Present.

Alice: I've always wondered if this was a comedy or a tragedy, or perhaps that significant 70s artistic construct, the "dramedy." Single mom who sings Bradway showtunes working to support her kid in Arizona on diner tips. Fuck! I'd imagine that singing "There's a New Girl In Town" ought to get those coffee refil tips into the stratosphere out there in Phoenix. I'm sure the serial killer truck drivers on their way to the Pacific Northwest on one hours sleep, a thermos of coffee, crank and a meat cleaver under the diner stool are really up and around to hearing broadway medley's at Mel's Diner, no? No ...

Better yet, Alice Hyatt, thou repository of standards of the great White Way, stick with Florence "Flo" Castleberry's crafty encomium: a leathery oversexed outlook on truckstop flings and a pipin hot "kiss my grits!" to the cheapskates.

Imagine if that show were pitched nowadays. Only David Lynch would go with it. Without the laugh track Alice could be an American drama drenched in pathos, like Dreiser's Sister Carrie. Take away the laugh track, throw in some creepy Lynchian music, and you've turned a dramedy into Americana horror. Alice would end up on nthe evening news and Lil Tommy would be shackin up with dingy Vera faster than Mel could re-lard his pork chops. No ... Alice doesn't live here anymore.

Don't even get us started on the great Vic Tayback banging the pick up bell with his spatula like the true character actor he was. Dating those seedy Phoenix chicks well past their expiration date. Americana horror is the genre. May Mel Sharples rest in a greasy kind of peace. Pink uniforms, ah, Mel, read much de Beauvoir?

Rich Man Poor Man: Observe Nick Nolte before the fermented grape robbed him of his marginal looks, then again, there is charm in Nolte's whiskey ravaged grim visage. If Nolte can be a star then so, dammit, can anyone. Earns props for Teachers, though. He counts.

Poldark: This cult British tv series is quite habit forming. Incredible. Just incredible. A period piece that is a cross between Wuthering Heights, the Mayor of Casterbridge and Le Liaisons Dangereuse. You get sucked in to this costume drama that is one part soap opera and one part high art.

Assorted Good Times episodes: Come on, you know you had a crush on Wilona when you were kid, don't you; or, if you were a girl, Bookman the janitor was your long cold drink of water. What, you never saw a black man doing a John Wayne impression, pilgrim? And you know in your heart Wilona saved Janet Jackson from falling down the elevator shaft trying to escape her mom who beat her with a hot iron just before she became Willis' girl, then Cleo on Fame, then Ms. deBarge.

The one where Michael gets drunk off some dodgy "health tonic" was a classic ("Get Vita Brite and sleep tonight ...*passes out*). The there was the time Michael joined a gang. Oh, what about the one where Thelma almost married this bigamist Nigerian. Crazy! What about that pimpy guy "Lennay," who always sold hot appliances from out of his coat. So was the episode when James has hypertension. So was ... hey ... was this a comedy or what?

Cinema Paradiso. The best work of art on friendship I've ever encountered. A glorious film.

Fellini's Satyricon. A pagan work. Un-be-fucking-lievable. The Rablasian Fellini walks us through Roman antiquity as imagined crossed with a science fiction movie. There can never be anyone as Felliniesque as Fellini.

The Big Blue Marble: My favorite show as a kid, if you must know.

Carl Sagan's Cosmos: Okay, so in the madcap world of astrophysics Sagan's hypotheses are probably all outmoded already. Right? So what? So is Ptolemy's Almagest, and yet I still read it in college. The provocative thinking is worth another looksie. This series was the bomb! (looks around sheepishly, then raises hand, "question: who is the PBS geek"?)Classics do not get outmoded.

Chespirito. This show was a mystery to me: Why would a grown Latin man want to go on tv dressed like a bumble bee with a big "CH" affixed to his paunch. Subtitle it and put it on Tri. We'd all like to know what the people on that endless laugh track find so funny.

Stoned, the Afterschool Special with Scott Baio. "Super Stoned Jack," was the scariest introduction that most of us had to the world of the sweet leaf. If I were stoned I would never go out in a row boat. Well, not after seeing this little chestnut. Put it on Trio so we can all laugh at the "reefer madness." Just say yes.

Fame the TV Series: Why are there not repeats on VH1 of this show already? When you say low budget and high quality I think .. right here's where you start paying for it ... with pain ... and sweat. The show of young, artistic people struggling for their moment to shine is about as American as it gets. Whatever happened to that sexy cello player who wouldn't give anyone the time of day, Lori Singer.

Cries and Whispers by Ingmar Bergman. If Black Stallion is the most beautifully shot film, then this is number two. All natural lighting. Bergman uses a fade to red to seperate scenes, mimicking the inner membrane of our eyelids. About as fucking intense as art can get. And halfway through this film about communication and treachery and time past, Bergman dissolves a reconcilliation scene with a Bach Sarabande in the most mysterious way.

Schoolhouse Rock: That Figure Eight. Mysterious, melancholy and mathematically instructional. Time will never again be so mundane. A strong influence on The Corsair's childhood.

The Black Stallion: Those fabulous Coppollas! This is perhaps the most beautiful filmed movie ever.

The Gore Vidal-Bill Buckley Debate-Fight It was in the heart of the 60s: it was the polarized political center of the 60s. The left and the right clash violently on national television. A classic. I just finished reading Vidal's Burr. Excellent.

Woody Allen's Teleplay: Don't Drink the Water. One of the most interesting experiments on television ever. Woody Allen directs and writes a teleplay starring Michael J Fox and the kid who played Blossom. Shaky handheld camera follows a grown Michael J. Fox as slowly becomes involved with the much younger woman. Sound familiar?

Kramer vs. Kramer. The first dramatic statement of the Baby Boomers. A film of the first water. Young married couple breaks apart. Wife leaves shallow workaholic husband and baby. Goes out West. Comes back revitalized. Husband fights custody. Bach and Vivaldi heighten drama. And the courtroom scene where Meryl Streep slowly dissolves into tears and forced composure are among the best acting you will ever see.

Okay, so those are some of my Trio picks. And you have to admit it is a hell of a lot better than Battle of the Network Stars.