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Twin Peaks: Before this set, if you wanted to collect the complete David Lynch-Mark Frost output that is Twin Peaks, you had to buy separate editions of the first and second seasons, then seek out the hard-to-find telemovie 1990 pilot that launched the series. Now you not only get everything in one place, but also get some tantalizing extras, including long-lost deleted scenes, some new documentaries about the making of the series, and even a very Lynchian bonus, in which he shares coffee and pie with a few colleagues to reminisce about times past. The deleted scenes, sadly, aren't the ones that Twin Peaks fans would most want to see. (Those would be the grueling outtakes of the second-season episode in which Lynch, in order to keep the identity of the plot's murderer secret, filmed one poor actress being brutally killed by three different attackers. Identities are being protected, all these years later, for the benefit of those just about to dive into this unique murder mystery. Long-time Peaks enthusiasts, though, know just what, and whom, is being discussed here.) But the other bonus materials more than make up for it. The opening to the reunion special evokes the Twin Peaks feel so instantly and successfully, it brings back the almost visceral memory of sitting down each week to sample a new hour of the strangest show on television. And more than anything else, there are the episodes themselves. Yes, season two fell apart under the weight of its own lack of direction and excess of whimsical indulgence - but had Lynch and Frost called it quits after one season, and ended by solving the murder of Sheryl Lee's Laura Palmer, Twin Peaks would have gone down in history as one of the greatest miniseries ever made. As is, it still shares the title, along with Patrick McGoohan's The Prisoner, as television's most surrealistic series. Twin Peaks was breathtakingly fresh and bold when it premiered. Decades later, that still holds true. |
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My So-Called Life: Imagine what would have happened if this 1994 ABC series, starring Claire Danes as an angst-ridden teenager, had premiered a decade later, in the age of the Internet. Chat rooms and fan sites would have propelled the show into a pop-culture phenomenon, and there's no way the network would have let it go after just 19 episodes. As is, this pitch-perfect drama series, created by Winnie Holzman, with help from executive producers Marshall Herskovitz and Ed Zwick of thirtysomething fame, came and went without making a single misstep. It made high school seem like the most important, dramatic and treacherous terrain in the world - which, of course, it is, and always has been. What's gratifying about the bonus material here is how grateful everyone, including Danes, feels to have been a part of it. There's a lot of insight to be gained from the documentary portions. For example, the casting sessions in New York, looking for fresh young talented actresses to star in the leading role, boiled down to Danes and a pre-Clueless Alicia Silverstone. And when the producers chose Danes, who was only 15, child labor laws forced them to limit her filming time to five hours per day - which forced them to focus on the entire ensemble of characters, including the parents, which is what helped make the show so nuanced and special. Also included in the set is a handsome full-color booklet, which includes appreciative essays by Joss Whedon (really good) and Janeane Garofalo (less good), and documentary shorts on the show's music and characters. My So-Called Life was released on DVD once before, years ago, in a very limited edition without any of these additional materials. For most fans, this is the first chance to revisit the teen traumas of Claire as Angela Chase - and for newcomers, it's a chance to catch up with a still-resonant, still-relevant TV classic. |
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The Singing Detective The idea of "Classics to Consider" is to suggest TV shows that have been out on DVD for a while, but may have escaped your notice - and are perfect to seek out for those "nothing-to-watch" rainy days (or, if you don't have cable, summers). In that spirit, the very first, and best, such buried treasure to offer here is Dennis Potter's 1986 BBC masterpiece, The Singing Detective. Over the years, from the quickly failed Cop Rock to the instantly failed Viva Laughlin, TV shows have tried to emulate Potter's success at mounting a "drama with music," as he called it. None has come close, not even remotely. Potter came closest, with his own previous Pennies from Heaven miniseries. Please don't confuse the long-form TV versions of Pennies, or Detective, with their pallid big-screen counterparts. The movies don't work; the TV shows never miss. That's because, like novels, they take full advantage of the time and space given to explore themes and characters. But unlike a novel, The Singing Detective plays with image, music, and so many other tricks that it's a pure television creation. It weaves a handful of story threads into one twisting, turning, amazing arc, like a double-helix DNA strand, only tripled. Michael Gambon stars as pulp novelist and hospital patient Philip Marlow, and... well, see for yourself. Please. My enthusiasm for The Singing Detective is so great that I wrote the liner notes for the DVD - and no, I don't make any money off any sale, not unless you click and order it here. I just feel like everyone who cares about quality TV should see this masterpiece. Amazingly, it has never been televised in the United States on any national network - neither on PBS nor on cable - and was shown, back in 1987 and 1988 and repeated a few years later, only by public TV stations on an ad hoc mini-network. If you go to the FRESH AIR FAVORITES page, you can find and hear my original Fresh Air review of The Singing Detective. Or you can just trust me and order it now. As I wrote in the DVD liner notes: "If this is your first exposure to The Singing Detective, prepare to be blown away." |
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