Jerry, have you ever taken a bath in the dark?

Seinfeld

2.1: The Ex-Girlfriend

The Premise

George summons up the courage to break it off with a girlfriend. Jerry debates whether to go out with her.

Observational

If the plots haven’t yet become finely crafted jewellery, you can already see how Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David have honed their approach in the wake of the brief first season. The central premise is a solid one, but the concurrent storylines take place off-screen.

George’s worry and prevaricating is typical George, while Jerry’s blasé approach to matters of the heart (“Just do it like a band aid. One motion. Right off”) is of a piece. George’s nonchalance at Jerry wanting to go out with his ex, even given that he is surprised by his lack of concern (“You’re a fine person. You’re a humanitarian”), is probably not something the writers would have gone for in later seasons (the consequent neuroses would have proven irresistible).

And Tracy Kolis’ broad southern gal Marlene is very funny, duskily sexy and unsettling at the same time. The answer phone message she leaves Jerry is hilariously batty (“Jerry, have you ever taken a bath in the dark? I’m not talking into the soap right now. Call me back”) and her vacant delivery shows fine comic timing. If there’s a criticism it’s that the pay-off seems rather an obvious one with the benefit of hindsight; she doesn’t like his comedy act and won’t go out with someone she doesn’t respect.

If George’s casualness over his ex is a surprise, he makes up for it elsewhere, It’s his sense of his own weakness that pushes Jerry towards Marlene in the first place (George persuades him to pick up some books he left at her apartment, too cowardly to do it himself). His conviction that chiropracty is a racket provides a great running gag (“They don’t do anything!”) and then there’s his reaction to the bill (“What, am I seeing Sinatra in there?”) George’s penny-pinching will also become a series constant; he only pays half the bill for his treatment, and Jerry picks up the rest of the tab. Likewise, he will regularly be confronted with lurking doubts over the mettle his heterosexuality. He also swallows a fly (“What should I do? What can happen?”)

Elaine has an issue with a neighbour who used to say hello everyday but now ignores her (“He went from nods to nothing”), and is persuaded to confront him. The scene where she recounts what happened is a great example of the energy Julia Louis-Dreyfus brings to the show, but she and Michael Richards are definitely pulling the rear-guard action in this one. Kramer’s particularity over fruit gets an early innings as he tries to persuade Jerry of the wonders of his cantaloupe vendor. Of course, Jerry buys from his own seller (“See, that stinks!” exclaims Kramer).

Nothing much to write home about on the monologues front; discussions of road lane experts and women needing to like the job of guys they’re dating.

Quotable

Elaine: I think you’re a little afraid to sit next to a man. You’re a little homophobic, aren’t you?

George: Is it that obvious?

George: I think you absolutely have to say something to this guy. Confront him.

Elaine: Really?

George: Yes.

Elaine: Would you do that?

George: If I was a different person.

Jerry: I don’t return fruit. Fruit’s a gamble. I know that going in.

George: I left some books at her apartment.

Jerry: Did you read them?

George: Yeah.

Jerry: So what do you need them for?

George: They’re books!

George: You paid that crook? He didn’t do anything, Jerry! It’s a scam!

Marlene: I can’t be someone if I don’t respect what they do.

Jerry: You’re a cashier!

Verdict:

Comments

She writes Twilight fan fiction.

Vampire Academy (2014)
My willingness to give writer Daniel Waters some slack on the grounds of early glories sometimes pays off (Sex and Death 101) and sometimes, as with this messy and indistinct Young Adult adaptation, it doesn’t. If Vampire Academy plods along as a less than innovative smart-mouthed Buffy rip-off that might be because, if you added vampires to Heathers, you would probably get something not so far from the world of Joss Whedon. Unfortunately inspiration is a low ebb throughout, not helped any by tepid direction from Daniel’s sometimes-reliable brother Mark and a couple of hopelessly plankish leads who do their best to dampen down any wit that occasionally attempts to surface.

I can only presume there’s a never-ending pile of Young Adult fiction poised for big screen failure, all of it comprising multi-novel storylines just begging for a moment in the Sun. Every time an adaptation crashes and burns (and the odds are that they will) another one rises, hydra-like, hoping…

Prepare the Heathen’s Stand! By order of purification!

Apostle (2018)
(SPOILERS) Another week, another undercooked Netflix flick from an undeniably talented director. What’s up with their quality control? Do they have any? Are they so set on attracting an embarrassment of creatives, they give them carte blanche, to hell with whether the results are any good or not? Apostle's an ungainly folk-horror mashup of The Wicker Man (most obviously, but without the remotest trace of that screenplay's finesse) and any cult-centric Brit horror movie you’d care to think of (including Ben Wheatley's, himself an exponent of similar influences-on-sleeve filmmaking with Kill List), taking in tropes from Hammer, torture porn, and pagan lore but revealing nothing much that's different or original beyond them.

You can’t just outsource your entire life.

Tully (2018)
(SPOILERS) A major twist is revealed in the last fifteen minutes of Tully, one I'll happily admit not to have seen coming, but it says something about the movie that it failed to affect my misgivings over the picture up to that point either way. About the worst thing you can say about a twist is that it leaves you shrugging.

There's something wrong with the sky.

Hold the Dark (2018)
(SPOILERS) Hold the Dark, an adaptation of William Giraldi's 2014 novel, is big on atmosphere, as you'd expect from director Jeremy Saulnier (Blue Ruin, Green Room) and actor-now-director (I Don’t Want to Live in This World Anymore) pal Macon Blair (furnishing the screenplay and appearing in one scene), but contrastingly low on satisfying resolutions. Being wilfully oblique can be a winner if you’re entirely sure what you're trying to achieve, but the effect here is rather that it’s "for the sake of it" than purposeful.

No one understands the lonely perfection of my dreams.

Ridley Scott Ridders Ranked
During the '80s, I anticipated few filmmakers' movies more than Ridley Scott's; those of his fellow xenomorph wrangler James Cameron, perhaps. In both cases, that eagerness for something equalling their early efforts receded as they studiously managed to avoid the heights they had once reached. Cameron's output dropped off a cliff after he won an Oscar. Contrastingly, Scott's surged like never before when his film took home gold. Which at least meant he occasionally delivered something interesting, but sadly, it was mostly quantity over quality. Here are the movies Scott has directed in his career thus far - and with his rate of productivity, another 25 by the time he's 100 may well be feasible – ranked from worst to best.

Well, you did take advantage of a drunken sailor.

Tomb Raider (2018)
(SPOILERS) There's evidently an appetite out there for a decent Tomb Raider movie, given that the lousy 2001 incarnation was successful enough to spawn a (lousy) sequel, and that this lousier reboot, scarcely conceivably, may have attracted enough bums on seats to do likewise. If we're going to distinguish between order of demerits, we could characterise the Angelina Jolie movies as both pretty bad; Tomb Raider, in contrast, is unforgivably tedious.

This is it. This is the moment of my death.

Fearless (1993)
Hollywood tends to make a hash of any exploration of existential or spiritual themes. The urge towards the simplistic, the treacly or the mawkishly uplifting, without appropriate filtering or insight, usually overpowers even the best intentions. Rarely, a movie comes along that makes good on its potential and then, more than likely, it gets completely ignored. Such a fate befell Fearless, Peter Weir’s plane crash survivor-angst film, despite roundly positive critical notices. For some reason audiences were willing to see a rubgy team turn cannibal in Alive, but this was a turn-off? Yet invariably anyone who has seen Fearless speaks of it in glowing terms, and rightly so.

Weir’s pictures are often thematically rich, more anchored by narrative than those of, say, Terrence Malick but similarly preoccupied with big ideas and their expression. He has a rare grasp of poetry, symbolism and the mythic. Weir also displays an acute grasp of the subjective mind-set, and possesses …

If you want to have a staring contest with me, you will lose.

Phantom Thread (2017)
(SPOILERS) Perhaps surprisingly not the lowest grossing of last year's Best Picture Oscar nominees (that was Call Me by Your Name) but certainly the one with the least buzz as a genuine contender, subjected as Phantom Thread was to a range of views from masterpiece (the critics) to drudge (a fair selection of general viewers). The mixed reaction wasn’t so very far from Paul Thomas Anderson's earlier The Master, and one suspects the nomination was more to do with the golden glow of Daniel Day-Lewis in his first role in half a decade (and last ever, if he's to be believed) than mass Academy rapture with the picture. Which is ironic, as the relatively unknown Vicky Krieps steals the film from under him.

My name is Dr. King Schultz, this is my valet, Django, and these are our horses, Fritz, and Tony.

He mobilised the English language and sent it into battle.

Darkest Hour (2017)
(SPOILERS) Watching Joe Wright’s return to the rarefied plane of prestige – and heritage to boot – filmmaking following the execrable folly of the panned Pan, I was struck by the difference an engaged director, one who cares about his characters, makes to material. Only last week, Ridley Scott’s serviceable All the Money in the World made for a pointed illustration of strong material in the hands of someone with no such investment, unless they’re androids. Wright’s dedication to a relatable Winston Churchill ensures that, for the first hour-plus, Darkest Hour is a first-rate affair, a piece of myth-making that barely puts a foot wrong. It has that much in common with Wright’s earlier Word War II tale, Atonement. But then, like Atonement, it comes unstuck.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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