No "Rush" in August Rush

I was psyched to see August Rush, after hearing a few decent things about it here and there. I was disappointed in the nominated musical selections at that year's Oscars, but was still interested in seeing anything that delved into what it's like to live and breathe for music.

Wow, was I in for a disappointment. I hated it. And I didn't just hate it. I hated it with fire and enthusiasm, with a level of feeling I normally reserve for patently evil reality show contestants. The plot was derivative, smarmy, and with a sweet/nasty edge that even Dickens couldn't have pulled off. There were too many plot moments for me where characters simply seemed to do things because the script demanded it. And worst of all, the film seemed to have no real understanding of music, music theory, performance, or musicianship. Instead, it seemed like the second-rate fantasy of someone who has never actually played a note at all, and to me, even above and beyond the cardboard characters and nasty undertones, this was the film's true fatal flaw.

There does seem to be a sizeable contingent of folks on the 'Net defending August Rush with comments that "it's a fantasy!" "It's a fairy tale" -- but my question is, where? Where does this movie show us that it takes place in a magical or alternate universe?

There is not one moment of inexplicable onscreen magic to show us that, in fact, this is a fairytale. Think of moments like the boy and girl taking flight in Nick Castle's previous (and far better) The Boy Who Could Fly, or the 'grail' in The Fisher King, or Peter Sellers walking on water in Being There, or the feather wafting its way back to Forrest's foot. There is never a moment that tells us gently that this is a magical universe and simply a parable.

Instead, it takes place in a rather nasty-spirited present universe in which I have to watch Robin Williams abuse kids while the kid August Rush abuses guitars (almost as bad).

There's another word for all this: Lazy, bad (and I mean, terrible) writing. Writing that just fills in the holes with "it's a fantasy! it's not meant to be real!" Which I guess is why August actually cannot play a guitar correctly (or maybe honestly Freddie Highmore, who can be so good in the right role, simply wasn't able to learn??)

Instead, the characters were by and large utterly unpleasant and truly nasty -- from Keri Russell's evil father, to Jonathan Rhys Meyers's evil bandmates, Robin Williams' (horribly overacted) Fagin-like figure, etc. I don't mind darkness. But unfortunately this movie was not written by Dickens and cannot balance that light and dark, unfortunately. The light is too preposterous and the dark is too genuinely icky and creepy.

The sheer cartoony unpleasantness of most of the movie as well as the complete lack of reality when it came to both music performance AND composition just still make me almost too angry to type about it.

August is depicted as being so talented he doesn't need to learn music notation... or how to actually play an instrument... or how to conduct a symphony... AGHGHGHG. Right. Because music is like maaaagic. Blech. August bashes and abuses guitars in a way that appears to have been inspired by some piano savants like Derek Parvicini (who bashed and/or "karate chopped" the keys before learning to play properly), however despite his incredible gifts, Derek himself did require years of lessons for technique. And Mozart himself, while a child prodigy, still received prodigious amounts of training from his father from toddlerhood.

What I found most offensive here was the myth as presented that music does not need to be learned, music is truth without effort... when that's an insult. Even a melody that occurs in a happy moment -- a melody captured and transcribed -- comes from some basis in training, or listening. Even in savants.

In short, music is hard. Music--beyond mimicry--involves dedication, practice, and training. Music is about interaction and collaboration, about listening. It's about being willing to practice until the muscles know every note by heart so that the real virtuosity can follow. In composition, it's about studying music theory until you know the keys, the tabulature, the chord progressions, the possibilities, to music (even if you plan to break them).

In short, it's insulting because it's about someone's vague idea of what making music must be like, but presented through lazy half-assed writing in which nobody bothered to learn the first thing of what an August would REALLY be like.

Oh, and except for JRM's very nice impromptu rooftop performance, the score and songs were pedestrian and forgettable. The incorporation of street noise into a symphony is supposed to be edgy? (Ooookay.)

I really like some of Nick Castle's other stuff. I love The Boy Who Could Fly, OK? But man oh man, did I hate, hate, hate this movie. Hate. Hate. Hate. Haaaaaaaate. I found it sloppy, unpleasant, yucky, and mean-spirited, with a thin glaze of sicky-sweet. Like a pile of poo covered with maple syrup.

Doesn't matter. It's still poo.

Sabrina: Some Fairy Tales are Even Better the Second Time Around

I know that for many film buffs, loving a remake can be tantamount to sacrilege--especially when the original happened to have starred luminaries like Audrey Hepburn, William Holden, or Humphrey Bogart.

But I'm going to happily commit film sacrilege and say that, when it comes to Sabrina, the film adaptations of the play Sabrina Fair, the 1995 remake starring Julia Ormond isn't just good, it's excellent. It's lighter, frothier, more poignant, and ultimately, for me, is far better than the original.

Sure, remakes are not always stellar. Most recently, I was disappointed in The Day the Earth Stood Still (although living up to the superb original would have been a task in itself), and the remake of Miracle on 34th Street still makes me a little nauseous just thinking about it... but basically, they don't all automatically suck. Purists be damned: Dangerous Liaisons is better than the original, so is The Ring, and although Nora Ephron's work doesn't always work for me, I do think You've Got Mail is a gem that far exceeds The Shop Around the Corner.

So back to Sabrina. There's a lot of sentimentality attached to the original, and no wonder, since it starred Audrey Hepburn at her most waifish, and William Holden at his most raffish (both good things). But the 1995 remake removes many dated and disquieting elements, and manages to make Linus (as played by Harrison Ford) not only understandable, but a viable suitor for Sabrina, not at all like Bogart's father-substitute.

When I revisited the original 1954 Sabrina last year, I was surprised by how humorless and sexist it seemed. And while yes, that was a product of the times to an extent, it's that much more welcome to see Sabrina flourish in the remake as a much stronger and more independent woman. And while this does not mean I don't adore Audrey Hepburn, or Holden, or Bogart, I just never saw sparks with Bogart and Hepburn at all (or Hepburn and Holden, for that matter). I do see them in the remake, with both Ormond's leading men.

I also just find myself disliking Sabrina as a character in the old one. She's willing to kill herself for this jerk, and actually attempts it(!), and is then sent off to learn how to cook and (it's implied) clean and be a good little wifey. I don't think the attempted suicide scene is funny at all and it's very uncomfortable to watch -- and I really hate that even in her big scene near the end with Bogart, she is COOKING for him -- acting as servant, not as equal.

Whereas I love the 1995 cast, I adore Ormond and her chemistry with Ford, and I like that Sabrina is so much stronger and more interesting a character in this one. One of my favorite hallmarks of this in the new one is how she talks about the poem behind her name, and Linus kind of sneers, "Oh, about your little poem..." thinking she was named for the maiden in distress -- but no, as Sabrina replies -- she was named for the heroine who saved the damsel, the "savior" of the piece. It adds yet another layer to Sabrina, who may have been a damsel in distress in the original -- but in the remake she is actually the one trying to save Linus from himself (and from a loveless, cold life).

I also think that it's much funnier than the original. Nancy Marchand is awesome in every single one of her scenes. And when Greg Kinnear sits on the glasses, or drools all over Sabrina's hand when he's on meds ("Look at your little hand!"), or when the secretary (played by the fabulous Dana Ivey) says she packed Linus's underwear drawer and "It was like touching the shroud of Turin!" -- I laughed out loud.

So yeah I'm one of those who feels -- absolutely -- that Sydney Pollack's Sabrina not only did justice to the original, but that honestly the remake was frothier, funnier, and more romantic than the original. (ducks to avoid flying tomatoes!)

Oh, and R.I.P. Sydney Pollack. He made a wonderful film. A lot of wonderful films.

"Shadow in the North" Shines a Light on Talent...

As a big fan of Philip Pullman's books, from "His Dark Materials" to his wonderful Victorian Sally Lockhart trilogy, I really looked forward to the films of the first two books. I thoroughly enjoyed "The Ruby in the Smoke," but I felt that the series, bringing back all of the previous and uniformly excellent participants, including Billie Piper, JJ Feild, and Matt Smith, really came into its own with the Masterpiece production of "The Shadow in the North."

The adaptation is extremely well-done, and walks a tricky line very well. The book's modernism is deliberate, as is that of the entire trilogy by Pullman, as a deliberate look at a fiercely modern young woman who declines the morals and strictures of the Victorian era while remaining at all times the product of her age. Sally Lockhart is brave, stubborn, and common, but she is always a believable product of her time. She acts within the confines of her age and era.

It's a large reason why I so enjoyed the books. Sally is always straight-backed and proud, a believable woman in the Victorian era who is nevertheless fearless and not bound by silly conventions or social mores. That's what's so great about Sally as a character -- it's brilliant to have a Victorian girl at the heart of these mysteries who as a young girl is both completely seen as a nonperson (worth less than any minority of the time even) yet who is also admired even by the villains.

"Shadow" is an enjoyable potboiler and Victorian mystery that -- as with the book -- totally demolishes the demands of the typical gothic heroine.

From the wonderful "Ruby in the Smoke" to "Shadow," I loved both productions and thought they did a lovely job on very densely intricately plotted books, and Billie Piper was perfect, as were Fred and Jim. I now deeply wish they'd do "Tiger in the Well," although the two-plus year time gap, plus Matt Smith's newfound stardom as the Eleventh Doctor on the latest season of "Doctor Who" makes that unlikely.

The film is as seamlessly produced as its predecessor, and Jared Harris makes a superb and surprising appearance as the book's villain. While I would never have cast Harris in the role myself, having only seen him in character roles prior to this, his superb turn as the cold, rather glamorous Axel Bellman is really wonderful--it's a star performance, charismatic and compulsively watchable. After his work here and in "Fringe" last year, I've become a real fan of Harris's, and am always interested to see what he'll do next. He's not a histrionic or demonstrative actor, and he's blessedly unafraid to be quiet. This actually tends to add to the intensity he brings to many scenes, and it's a joy to watch.

I also thoroughly enjoyed Matt Smith, who brings an impudent, and at times slightly dark quality to his character of Jim Taylor. He's immediately arresting--a tall, handsome, yet strangely gawky fellow, and his interpretations and performances are so genuinely interesting and unusual that it's hard not to focus solely on him in several scenes. He brings a real sense of inner life and puckishness to Jim, and I remember thinking at the time I first saw him, "he'd make a good Doctor." Little did I know!

But the film ultimately belongs to Billie Piper, who is excellent as Sally following her wonderful two seasons on Doctor Who, and she brings a bit of Rose's pluck and verve to Sally, yet manages to build a completely different character here. Sally is quieter than Rose, more confined by the time in which she lives, and Piper brings her quiet frustrations to life in a believable way. Yet despite the invisible Victorian chains that bind her, Sally Lockhart will simply not give in to anyone, and it's my favorite thing about her. She is to be forgiven for not realizing it would cost everyone but herself.

Loved the first movie, loved this one, hope they make "Tiger in the Well." Sally is a wonderful character and this film, as well as "Ruby in the Smoke," does her justice in all her Victorian gothic glory.

News Loses an Icon, and Viewers Lose a Friend: Tim Russert (1950-2008)

Friday's tragic death of Tim Russert, renowned newsman and host of "Meet the Press," left me unhappy and quietly sad throughout the weekend.

Not just because I'd always liked Russert, and felt that he let us see the 'him' behind the news anchor mask. But because we as viewers lost a friend.

He always had a twinkle in his eye. Like Peter Jennings, another newsman gone too soon, Russert always gave you a sense of a real person sitting behind that desk. He spoke easily and personably about his love for his work, and with humor and warmth about his father, son, wife, and those close to him in his life. His big blue eyes were tempered by pointed dark brows so that he could seem wide-eyed and genial one moment, then sharp as a laser the next. And the pudgy softness finished the package and made him seem like, no matter how formidable and daunting his intellect might be, deep down there was always a teddy bear lurking in there as well. (This combination also meant that I had a little bit of a crush lurking -- humor, intelligence, confidence and approachability are a wonderful mix.)

For me as a TV viewer, losing Russert means I'm losing the guy who made politics accessible to me. So often, the world of Washington is not brought closer by the media, but pushed away from us, not raised on pedestals but placed behind unbreakable glass walls. So many newspeople seem to delight in portraying politics as something untouchable, unreachable, a rarified fishbowl-world in which people jibber-jabber in unintelligible twenty-syllable words about things we couldn't possibly understand, and budgets we can't possibly imagine, and stuff we're probably just better off not knowing.

Not Russert. He used his fierce intelligence to make the news interesting, and more than that, his sheer joy in the process of politics was patently visible in everything he did. At the beginning of the last political debate I saw him moderate, between Obama and Clinton, Russert looked positively gleeful.

So I appreciated Russert's humanizing presence on the political scene. I'm a political coward -- one of those people who wants to know, even if they dread the answers. Russert provided a human face to politics, and a reassuring conduit to those in power. As a political moderator, Russert asked questions in plain English, and the glint in his eye seemed to discourage the usual canned responses. He made people dig a little deeper.

But while I enjoyed Russert's longstanding work as a TV journalist, moderator and pundit, my all-time favorite appearance by him took place on the show "Homicide: Life on the Streets" (a damn near perfect show).

As sly inside joke, Russert was depicted as the cousin of Captain Megan Russert (played by Isabella Hofman), and best part of all, Russert actually showed up in Season 3 of the show, striding into the squadroom, and trading barbs good-naturedly with Russert about family and Christmas presents. At the end, fed up, he stomps off onto the elevator. In the scene, Russert is not only doing a pretty fine job of acting out one of those ridiculous and slightly embarrassing ongoing family squabbles that pop up, he also exudes his usual warmth and effortless humor. As the scene ends and the elevator doors close, there's still that little twinkle in his eye that shows, as always that Russert is having the time of his life.

It's not gonna seem like much of much of an election without him. You already know that in far too many moments to come, journalists and TV watchers alike will turn to one another and wonder, "What would Russert think?"

He'll be missed.

A Stake to the Heart (50 Favorite Moments in "Angel")

I got a friend of mine to start watching the TV show "Angel" back in the winter, and he just finished the fifth and final season on DVD.

He was so excited to talk about it that we ended up gabbing for three hours -- in that great way you do when a show hits you on an emotional level.

Which this one really did. It will always remain one of the all-time greats for me. Like a stake through the heart. Even more than "Buffy."

And make no mistake, Buffy was gorgeous, but "Angel" transcended the "high school is hell" themes of Buffy while ramping up the tension. On "Angel," work was hell. Love was hell. Life was hell.

The conversation reminded me of how much I love the show, and also of how much I still miss it. It was like a recitation of Angel's greatest hits -- "Didn't you love it when Angel did this? Or when Wes did that? Or that moment when Fred--?"

So much so that it inspired me to do a countdown, simply of some of my favorite moments ever in the show. Warning: THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. BIG SPOILERS. LOTS OF SPOILERS.

Go watch the show, then come back and read it. I'll still be here. Promise.

50 Things to Love About "Angel"

The gorgeous theme song by Darling Violetta. I never got tired of it, the rock-cello combination ending quietly with the melancholy descending piano.

And while we're on the subject of music, the gorgeous, dark and truly cinematic score by Rob Kral all the way through the show.

The opening credits. Especially the way the opening credits always always ended with poor Angel walking off into the shadows, his dark black coat billowing behind him like wings. That shot right there? That's the whole show.

Angel staking two vamps at once in the show's first episode. Because how cool was that?

The pilot episode, "City of..." -- and what a great pilot. Especially the fact that the girl freaking dies. Right away you knew two things: (1) it was gonna be dark, and (2), this wasn't storytelling by rote.

The Shanshu prophecy. The carrot on the stick for the vampire with a soul.

The "Touched" montage in "Lonely Hearts." All those beautiful, lonely people, taken in, touched, killed. I always thought this was one of the most powerful uses of pop music in the show, or any show.

Spike's hilarious rooftop commentary as Angel saves two girls far below in "In the Dark." Spike: "I'm just a big fluffy puppy with bad teeth." And "Quick! To the Angelmobile!"

Doyle's quiet, surefooted assistance as Angel eased into his new life of vampire-private-eye-superhero-dom. Glenn Quinn always brought a lovely easy grace to Doyle for me, with a natural Irish humor and soulfulness that I loved. I never stopped missing Doyle. Or Quinn (RIP).

Angel's delirious, sexy-funny-heartbreaking romp with Buffy for a single day in the sun.

Angel's mental 'party dance' (complete with cheesetastic lower-lip-biting -- Boreanaz never got enough credit as a comedian). Darla's return.

Cordelia's ghostly roommate, Phantom Dennis, consoling her with a floating box of tissues when she has a one-night stand with a guy from a bar, and ends up 9 months pregnant. (Phantom Dennis was one of my favorite characters in Angel, and I always loved the fact that we got to see him in the credits all the way through Season 5!)

Kate and Angel's hilarious touchy-feely conversation in "Sense and Sensitivity" ("Don't be a painbow!")

The worst version of "Mandy" ever sung (and how much do I love it) at Lorne's club Caritas.

Lindsey's Evil Hand.

When Angel shuts an evil, ravenous Darla and Drusilla in with the Wolfram and Hart senior partners, the Senior Partner (Holland Manners) begs for mercy, and in response Angel gives a shrug and says, "I just can't seem to care." And closes the door on them all as Darla begins to grin. Chilling.

Faith's breakdown and repentance in Angel's arms at the end of "Five by Five"

The quietly poignant conversation at the conclusion of "Are you now or have you ever been?" -- one of the best-written episodes in the show's history, and example of how "Angel" was always so much more than "a vampire show." Not that there's anything wrong with that. Heh.

The moment when Angel bites Kate in "The Shroud of Rahmon." One of the creepiest and most effective moments of the show for me, especially leading up to the last 5 minutes of the show, when we see, "Rashomon"-style, Kate's view of events

The final line of dialogue by Wolfram & Hart's Holland Manners to Angel in "Reprise": Promising to take the vampire to hell itself for a confrontation, Manners takes Angel on an endless elevator ride, with the doors opening on... present-day L.A.

Wesley's chilling transformation into stalker and killer -- and Lilah's utterly unexpected act of revenge -- in "Billy"

After her rescue from near-suicide by Angel, when Kate admits to a stunned Angel that a greater power may be on their side because, "I didn't invite you in."

The moment Darla shows up with a big pregnant belly. Vampires aren't supposed to do that!

Connor's birth -- in the rain, in the dark, as Darla's ultimate sacrifice. Gorgeous moment from Julie Benz.

Holz's arrival in L.A. I loved the fact that a vampire hunter who was essentially good and heroic had become the Season 3 villain -- it was brilliant. And I always had a little crush going on Holtz, who kind of purred all his lines in a fabulously creepy way.

Speaking of Season 3, that shocking moment when Wesley steals baby Connor to protect him from the prophecy, and Justine slits his throat (!) I died a thousand deaths until we found out if he had survived

The terrible final moments between Angel and Wesley in "Forgiving." Angel at Wesley's hospital bed, calm and collected, saying, "You know this is me, right?" Right before he tries to kill him (and I realize, because I'm slow, that Angel was asking this so that Wes knew it was Angel himself, not Angelus, his evil alter ego, doing the deed) This still kills me. The acting was just superb by both Boreanaz and Denisof.

Teenaged Connor's arrival in the Angelverse. I know many fans didn't adore Connor, but I loved him and thought he brought a downright Shakespearean slant to Angel Season 3. And Vincent Kartheiser was absolutely wonderful in the role, and he moved gorgeously, bringing a dancer's grace to his fight scenes.

Angel's heartbreaking fantasy of a happy family around a communal table even as he is trapped (undying) and slowly going insane at the bottom of the ocean (thanks to dear little Connor) in "Deep Down."

When Lorne's head is shockingly served to a queenly Cordelia in "Through the Looking Glass"

"Numfar, do the dance of shame!"

Electro-girl Gwen's gorgeous introductory episode. In fact, every episode with Gwen. I would have been thrilled with an entire show about Gwen. Can somebody make that happen?

Lilah's takeover of the top spot at Wolfram & Hart. The scene in which she neatly decapitates John Rubenstein in a conference room (not long after he deadpans for her to find her own "piece of sky" -- a very funny inside reference to Rubenstein's role in the original cast of "Pippin") is as funny as it is awful.

Angel's hilarious and affecting Indiana Jones-style fantasy in "Awakening" about a happy family at Angel investigations, leading to his new moment of 'pure happiness' for the emergence of Angelus (It's interesting and believable how much this concept of 'pure happiness' changed from an intimate moment with Buffy before, to now being something far more complex and involving Angel's whole life -- not just his love for one person)

When Cordy kills Lilah with a knife through the throat. I never saw THAT coming!

The moment we realize what Jasmine has been doing to all those worshippers who visit her alone in her room (seconded only by Connor's reaction when he finds out!)

The moment when Fred shoots Angel with the "magic bullet" so that he finally sees the truth about Jasmine

The chilling final moments of "Home," when Angel agrees to the terms set by Wolfram and Hart, and does a terrible thing in order to save Connor (as a long-ago prophecy actually comes true)

Angel's very funny jealousy of Spike (and assorted nightmares about being overlooked) in "Destiny." The image of Angel in short nerdy shirtsleeves pushing a mailcart as the office heralds the wonder of Spike has to be seen to be believed.

In "Time Bomb," when Illyria takes out the entire Angel team in fifteen incredible seconds. And smiles.

Adam Baldwin's arrival as Marcus Hamilton, the new liaison with the Senior Partners. Partly because I will always love My Bodyguard and also because Adam Baldwin just rocks. (See also: Firefly)

Spike's quiet conversation with Angel about their self-awareness of damnation, and how there is no such thing as making up for an act of murder

Spike 'haunting' Wolfram & Hart in the genuinely creepy "Hellbound"

Cordy's bittersweet and lovely return (with snark, thank God, fully intact) in "You're Welcome"

Every single delirious fabulous hysterical second of "Smile Time," when Angel is hilariously turned into an Angel puppet. But most especially the moment when the Angel Puppet actually vamps out during the big fight at the end. I will never get over the dorkalicious awesomeness of that moment. Never.

Lindsey's fabulous character arc into the light and then back into the dark -- only to ironically die in the light because the darkness was too much with him, and Angel knew it. (Poor Lorne). His outrage over his own death is all the more touching because he doesn't mind dying -- had obviously expected it at some point, in fact -- but he had always expected Angel to be the one to kill him. You could tell Lindsey's pride hurt worse than the mortal wound.

The final battles of the Angel crew with the Black Thorn, in a wonderful and demonic homage to those final scenes in "The Godfather"

In series finale "Not Fade Away," when Illyria (still in her "Fred" guise) punches through the head of the bad guy begging her to take her best shot, transforming back into Illyria even as she does so. It's not just one of the coolest shots ever, it's also the quintessential Joss Whedon moment for me, the "little girl" stronger than the evil that confronts her, stronger than they can imagine.

In that same episode, the last stand of a motley crew of vampires, demigods, and wounded humans as the wrath of Wolfram and Hart descends in an army of darkness

"If nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do."

Man, I miss this show.

What were your favorite moments?

Back from Beyond...

Hi guys,

Obviously I've been away from the blog for awhile, so apologies for that. It's been a busy six or seven months, but a richly rewarding one.

I relocated from Jacksonville, Florida to New York City, for one thing. It was Put-up-or-shut-up time, so I bit the bullet and put up! I'm here to see what I can do, what I can accomplish, and before it all became part of a wish list I never actually acted on. Whoo-hoo! I'm an idiot!

The relocation was horrible and fantastic at the same time. I spent an entire year's savings just on getting an apartment (and my firstborn child, still not materialized mind you, has been promised to my landlord at a full moon in a future date to be decided). I lost my couch -- my single favorite piece of furniture -- when it would not fit through the doorway of my spatially-challenged new apartment. But overall? It's fabulous. The sheer amount of culture, food, peoplewatching available is fantastic. Every person you meet has a dream, and even the skyline is art. So far, as tough as it is, I'm really enjoying the experience.

Meanwhile: What about television? No more Comcast for me (and I admit it, I do miss those Slowsky commercials) -- I'm on with RCN now. But the television continues to glow (thank goodness).

In other words, I'm back. So please forgive me for the absence, and bear with me as I post a lot of content -- some outdated, some relevant -- just for conversation's sake. I missed posting, frankly, and how weird is that?

Oh, and while I've been quiet, believe me, I watched and enjoyed a heck of a lot of TV. And a surprising amount of it was awesome.

Let's talk about it here! What were some of your favorites this season?

Hidden Depths (and Joys): Doctor Who Season 3

(NOTE: MILD SPOILERS -- DOCTOR WHO, SEASON 3)

This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but with the faint grind and thump of the TARDIS, and the Doctor's smile, and the knowledge that most people are actually pretty good.

As a child I spent a lot of time on a sailboat all around the Caribbean (it's a long story, but a wonderful one). I saw gorgeous things and scary things and terrible things but most of them were simply vivid and bright and out of time. I didn't think about yesterday or tomorrow, I just sat comfortably on the aft cabin, talked to the dolphins, and steered the wheel deftly with my feet.

The more I've gotten to know and love the new Who, the more I've remembered those days. More and more, I've found this show to be like sailing along, and idly watching the depth sounder on our sailboat as a child. You'd watch it, and it would flicker up the numbers registering from those pings along the bottom. 68 feet. 84 feet. 124 feet. And then every once in awhile it would go freaking DEEP. 154 feet. 182 feet. 248 feet. What the hell?

Well, that's "Doctor Who" for you. Watch it. Smile at those who tell you it's a kids' show. But don't take your eye off the depth sounder for a second. You'll smile and enjoy and nod and all will be just a happy few dozen feet, and then suddenly -- no warning -- the abyss will open up, and you are in very deep waters, indeed.

Hey, if you love labels then have at it. Doctor Who is a children's show, just like the Chronicles of Narnia or The Lord of the Rings or His Dark Materials are children's books.

Feel better? Okay. Onward.

I love this show. I love this show.

I love that I never know what's gonna happen. I can guess the ending to just about anything I watch on TV, not because I'm so frickin' smart or anything, but because the world has grown predictable. Stories go a certain way, and we learn the feel and swim of them.

Then you have a show like Who, and I am a jumble of numbers, of confusion, of bad guesses, of errors. I always loved the phrase "at sixes and sevens," well, that is where Doctor Who leaves me each season. At sixes and sevens and eights and nines. Because it always, freaking always, takes me to places I could not have imagined, tells me stories that are foreign and strange and lovely, and goes where I least expect it.

Every season of the new Who has offered a clear arc. Season 1, with Nine (hi Christopher Eccleston, call me!), showed us a Doctor whose big grin, flirtations, exclamations ("Fantastic!") hid a bruised and mournful heart, and a sorrow and guilt larger than the existing universe. Season 2 brought us the unexpected dazzle of Ten, recovered and in love and able to pretend for a little while that he could live and love like everyone else. The chemistry between Tennant and Piper was lovely and believable, and the conclusion of that season incredibly moving to me. I know many Who watchers actively dislike the idea of romance where Companions are concerned, but to me this was a direct result of the final events of Season 1. Rose knows what it's like to be divine, she knows the TARDIS, she was able to see -- for one brief moment -- as the Doctor sees. No wonder the moment ended in love and death, and a kiss that would send us directly into the quiet madness of Season 2.

Then came Season 3, which was all about disconnection, loss, loneliness, and the ache and fear of being human. The Doctor gets to lose (and find) himself in "The Family of Blood" (the episode at the real heart of the season and encapsulating it gorgeously), to introduce Shakespeare to the nutty wonderfulness of J.K. Rowling, to bring a city out of the dark in "Gridlock," to a final series of episodes actually exploring what it means to be a Time Lord. We even get glimpses of long-ago Gallifrey -- and the music in these final episodes, from "Utopia" (my personal favorite of the season, and starring the fabulous Derek Jacobi as the kindly Professor Yana), to The Sound Of Drums" and "The Last of the Time Lords" is some of the most beautiful yet heard on the show.

The Doctor himself, Ten in all his gorgeous ratty glory, is at the heart of all the awesomeness, as always. Two seasons in with this new face and I still adore him, fear him, and ultimately find him as unreadable as ever. He is kind when I expect him to be thoughtless, terrifying just when I think he'll be kind, and merciful just when I think his eyes hold all the coldness of the edge of the universe. And here in Season 3, we gain insights into the Doctor that we've never had before. The writing is breathtaking, and Tennant is wonderful in bringing it to life.

Segue: One of my friends was watching TV with me, and a commercial for Who came on. I let out a yelp, or a squeal, or something equally dorky, and she wrinkled her nose. "I just don't get it," she said. "He's kind of funny-looking."

"Oh God, you have to see the show," I told her. "It's the perfect example of how an actor's talent and sheer charisma make someone absolutely electric." (Note: I think Tennant's gorgeous, personally, so she's crazy anyway.)

Generalizations are generally wrong. But all the same, I can't really fathom this show on American TV. And look, I love American TV. IT's the TV that brought Buffy and Battlestar Galactica and Angel and Homicide:LOTS and Freaks and Geeks into the world. I worship it.

But this is a show about people whose choices are not informed by or about pop culture or (best of all) other TV shows. And that's incredibly refreshing. Martha gives the woman who betrays her (and humanity) flowers, and the woman smiles, beautifully, and in this universe will never have to face that side of herself. The Doctor himself weeps at a key moment over a villain who attempted to destroy the world and kill millions. I can't help but feel that here in America we might have gone a slightly crasser direction, lord love us.

When Three wound down, when this season ended, with its gorgeous sweeping music and its bruised hearts and its loneliness, I cried. I cried for Martha, feeling that he'd never really seen her (and in her bright shiny beauty Martha is and was oddly reflective. You saw her and your eye kind of slid past her to the Doctor -- ever notice that?).

And I adored the final scene, in which she faces the Doctor and opens her heart to him -- no subterfuge or coyness to our Martha. There's no doubt about the way she will meet her future, that she will move on with her heart intact.

The Doctor moves on, too, still dreaming I suspect of the girl with the wolf in her heart and the TARDIS in her eyes, that he only kissed once. It's not perfect. But it's enough.

A beautiful season, go watch it. Like, now.