Month: November 2015

The Knick reviewcap: Getting the best the hard way

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the-knick-god-has-a-rivalWelcome to the Buffa reviewcap, where I blend the idea of covering a TV show without being boring about it. As in “here is what happened and let’s see if you are still awake.” I like to review the episode while pondering what just happened. Here is what I took from Season 2, episode 3, entitled “Best of the Best with the Best”

Thackery and addiction reaches testing

The rabid doctor is taking a full swing at this curing addiction thing and why not. Here is a brilliant man hospitalized for taking too many drugs who was broken out to come back to work and do more drugs to find a cure. The episode opens with him snorting a combination of heroin and cocaine. One thought runs through our head thinking is he just doing this to get by or is he really trying to solve something? The doctor is not quite back in yet. He’s hovering around sanity on a drug high.

Poor Chickering

The young doctor has joined the stiff pencil “other” Dr. Levi Zinberg(Michael Nathanson) across town and now gets pushed to the back of the crowd, performing low liability surgeries and working his way back up. When he tells his colleagues to call him “Bertie”, the chief of surgery correct him. He is “Dr. Chickering”. Buddy, the place is called Mount Cyanide. What did you expect? Everything about Cyanide is stiff and bitter, as opposed to The Knick, where it’s all loose and easy. Surgeries in the basement, cocaine snorting in the lab and other fun shit. It’s 1901 and you may die before you are 40 so what the fuck?

Dr. Edwards burns for ambition and other things

Cornelia and the doctor have no idea how the Inspector popped up on the shore dead, but that doesn’t mean they can’t share a kiss. So much tough here. Two people who are forbidden to be together yet have that burning desire and have already produced a child(albeit short lived) together. Drama!

Gallinger has his wife back…sort of

Dr. Everett Gallinger has his wife back. She has new teeth but possible a head that is still scrambled. A doctor who is doing everything to recover his status at the hospital while searching for his sanity at home. Every character on the Knick has a few shades of grey and a complete dark area.

Take Nurse Lucy for example. She loves Thackery, feels safe around Birdie, and is trying to reconnect with her father. Geeeezzz!

A death at the hospital Thackery was at leaves a door open for him to experiment on the dead girl and see if his “addiction theory” has any legs or is just a chance to get high. He gets consent to operate on the girl as long as the face is left alone. The coldness back then was prevalent and the search for decency was a short wick away from it.

Sister Harriet is still in chains at pre-trail with a high priced lawyer who hasn’t seen a bit of cash due to Tom Cleary’s lack of funds. When the lawyer fumbles his case, the judge takes a chance to slam Harriet. This is a personal vendetta for the judge. Back in the early 1901, abortion was pure murder and there was no place for it. As if Harriet needed another block in front of her freedom, the judge is not standing firmly against her.

I love Cleary. Here is a tough, bitter, imperfect yet passionate man. The first few episodes of Season 1 made him out to be an asshole and someone who cared little for anything not resembling a coin. As the season progressed, we saw his friendship with Harriet blossom into one of the best things about the show. An ambulance driving bear and a decent yet rule bending nun. Only on the Knick.

Gallinger walks into a room full of diplomats, political wannabes and talky peeps and basically says, “You just don’t like black people”. Remember in Season 1 when Gallinger was on the other side. Slowly, he is turning into something else. The situation with his wife Eleanor is changing him from coldly ambitious to something different.

Lucy’s healer dad is at it again, and she sits there waiting for forgiveness. Will he provide her with peace of mind or blaze her in front of his followers? He waits until later when he is counting his winnings from the gathering to broil her for her sins. He beats her and whips her as well, making her feel ashamed for her drug infused binder with Thackery. For Healers, you can’t make any mistakes.

Bertie is courting the writer covering his new hospital and trying to distance himself from The Knick.

Cornelia tries to ask her husband to help with Sister Harriet’s case and gets rebuffed for wanting to help a baby killer. Too bad he doesn’t know Harriet helped kill her baby. HA!

Tyler Bates’ score is so good. A hypnotic blend with a procedural heart to it. Clive Owen’s haunted face stalks the parlor for a woman to do drugs with and have some sex and you just go with it due to Owen’s ability to hold your attention no matter what he does. Afterwards, he winds up at Abby’s home. His long lost love who he is helping with her nose procedure. A beautiful woman with a terrible disease that Thackery never feels like he can help enough.

Edwards and Gallinger continue to battle in the theater over live bodies. This war has raged since season 1, and it only gets worse when Thackery continues to choose the black doctor genius over the esteemed white male prototype. Gallinger angles towards the “I saved you” route and sets himself up to be launched by Thack. It is Edwards that has discovered, tested and proved procedure after procedure, while Gallinger was tending to his sick wife and emotions. “Jealousy won’t suit you here as much as drive and ambition.” The writing of Jack Amiel and Michael Begler is so good during the showdowns between doctors. It’s never over the top.

Driven by his need to help Abby, Thack wants to cure syphilis, a terrible disease that claimed many lives during that period. In order to do this, Thack would need to nearly cook the patient at a 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Baking the disease. Edwards persuades him to attack malaria first to find a perfect method. Here is a case where each of these doctors is threatened by the other but also pushed in the best way. Edwards wants to be Thack but can’t move past him. Thack wants to be the first to everything and he needs Edwards.

You fight cocaine addiction with heroin and try to take down syphilis with malaria. Back in 1901, you used one evil to kill another. Old school shit ladies and gents!

Herman Barrow is a bastard! He wants top of the line materials for the new Knick up town and the architect is curious as to why. Barrow also wants to slow construction down, and all this has to be leading to him slipping more money under the table and back to himself. Something is always tricky and slimy with Barrow. Right when he thinks he has the construction where he needs them, an old haunt shows up. Apparently, one of Bunky’s men didn’t die and now has new accounts at Tammany Hall. Old habits don’t die after all. James Fester is out for Barrow, further cementing the fact that you can be slippery in life but there’s no way you are escaping your past. He can’t get his girl at the brothel and he owes money to everyone in town.

Cleary needs drugs. Speed. Adrenaline. Anything to get his fighter to win a match and score the bear some cash. He cons a nurse into giving him a couple boxes to keep on the carriage to help a dying patient. Everyone on this show is selling something. A faulty story, wish, need, or a need to be recognized. Maybe just survival. Cleary’s fighter wins but has a heart attack afterwards and dies. There are no victories on The Knick.

Dr. Edwards has a bum eye, a grudge at work, enough ambition to fill a warehouse but he also has a wife back to scam him. His parents have no idea who she is, and Edwards tells them he met her in Paris when medicine was going well and he was happy. When he decided to jet and come to New York, he basically left her. She is back to wreak havoc and Edwards’ already fractured existence just got an extra kick of drama.

Line of the week from Cleary after dropping a body off for Thack to dissect-“If people knew what you did in here, they wouldn’t trust you to give them a fucking aspirin.”

Come back next week for more Knick examinations. As the promo in Season 1 said, modern medicine had to start somewhere.

A RANT: Black coffee, stay at home parenthood and whiskey thoughts

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Greetings,

I am your bartender this afternoon and today’s drink is a stream consciousness that has no rhythm yet should you hit in some area of the heart or mind. As the great folk singer Todd Snider said barefoot at the Sheldon Theater in downtown STL, “I am not here to change your mind, but ease my own.” Something like that. Here we go.

A Day in the Life of Stay at Home Parenthood

Vin and IBeing a stay at home dad means you have no sick days and sometimes feel like you aren’t normal. Allow me to explain. I get up every day around 9-10am. No, I don’t rise with my kid. He gets up and dresses himself. Wipes his ass. Takes a piss. Gets a drink. Plays with toys. He’s four years old. While dad boots up like a 1985 Macintosh computer, he is already blazing. That’s kids. He will be sitting there sipping a smoothie, playing a game on his iPod, and watching Transformers before I even bare to register a thought. He’s a genius and I can only exist in his world. He knows it too. Every morning, he goes, “are you getting up dad?” As if he was saying, I run on solar powered batteries asshole…let’s go.

When it’s time, I rise. This is normal. I get up and whisk my slow moving feet over to the Keurig, otherwise known as my second wife or mistress. It’s my go-go juice. My mood barometer. Something to steady me by and launch with. I need it like a skydiver needs his parachute. Like Brian Williams needs a fairy tale. Like Vladimir Tarasenko needs a stick and ice to prove to us he isn’t human. I like my coffee black folks. No cream, milk, sugar, or ceiling dust. If anything, I drop a gram of stevia(plant extract clean sweetener) into it just so I can drink it faster. After two cups, I am ready to ask the kid if he needs anything before I start doing laundry. A waffle, some chocolate milk or a swift kick in the ass. The last one comes the easiest. I check the sink and empty and reload the dishwasher. The key is to not break glasses because you will never find all the shards. Ever. Be careful here. Nobody gets a gold star for putting away dishes fast. They just get a piece of glass in their foot. There is only one John McClane, assholes. Don’t be a tough guy with dishes. Be safe.

Afterwards, it’s vacuum time. Check the floor. My cat usually rapes it at least four times a day. I don’t get cats sometimes. They supposedly cover their shit up by kicking litter all over the floor AWAY from the actual turd and they scratch a carpet because they can’t clip their nails. Laundry started, dishes, and vacuum. I need a holster for my coffee damn it. I could really get some shit done. The possibilities. John Lennon wanted an island. Johnny Depp has an island. I just want a holster for my coffee cup.

Random thought: What did people do before they had coffee pots and Keurigs? What would the world be like without coffee in it? There’s the water crisis. Oil. Clean environment. I think about a coffee-less world and I cry. Genuine man tears. The ones where guys angle their face down, try to catch some pollen and fake a sneeze. No coffee would make me a Purge artist every fucking day. No sequels needed. Give me the gun. Can you picture the movie trailer voice guy?

“One man. One guy. One horse. All in the name of coffee bean extraction. If there’s java, he will be there. Double the action. Triple the caffeine. Dan Buffa is….the Coffee Chaser.” That would be a 90 page script. Maybe sequels where I teach the aliens how to make espresso. Who knows?

So everything is started and this is where I try to sit down and write something. The KSDK crew isn’t in yet and there are optimal times to post articles people. 9am, noon, 5pm and maybe 7pm. That’s it. You want views. Post then. If not, the words you put together will be read by the internet janitor and he doesn’t really exist. If I have nothing by 12pm, I hold off. Save the draft. Cards. Blues. Movies. Whatever, it can wait.

I’ve already checked Twitter and Facebook. Email. That’s before I even get up. For a social media bitch like myself, someone who could live tweet a sleep seminar, I grab my phone before I even lift my head. You respond to some tweet and spell three words wrong because you are holding the phone above your head in fear of dropping it you speed up the thumb taps. That’s first. The apartment could be on fire but I need to check my mentions you pricks.

Once I save the article, I see if the kid wants to go out and witness the outside world. We have one car right now so all we have are the feet and the bikes. I don’t want to talk about my car problems because it will only bore you and make you click on that Blake Shelton/Gwen Stefani “They actually are fucking” talking head piece. We have one car, so Vinny and I head out. He rides his bike around the complex while I drink more coffee and stroll behind him. I am unofficial secret service in gym shorts and a t-shirt. Who needs a suit when you are in a gated community and can be more flexible in elastic shorts. He loves it. We hit the playground and he wears himself out. After two laps around the complex and 20 minutes on the playground, he’s taxed and says, “It’s hot. I’m tired. Let’s go inside.”

I have no problem with this. Why? Because I am selfish. I don’t need to be outside every day all day. I am not Bear fucking Grylls. I can go back inside, relax and harbor my energy for a workout later or whatever. He is tired yet won’t take a nap. He’ll lay down and get up. A few times. He’ll eat something and smash 35 toys together on the floor. Kids are marvels when it comes to scattering their toys around the apartment so a parent has to bend over repeatedly to pick them up. He will space out three trucks far enough to make you crawl around his room. All the while, he looks at you like a large ant who happens to be his bitch.

I think about writing again and then decide not to. I reconsider and pump out two quick articles. Yeah,  I can write. It comes easy to me. As you can see here as we pass the 1100 word mark, I can do it whenever I want. Some people make this big deal about writing like it’s calculus or something. They struggle. They retire and un-retire. They try to sound cool when they write something, like they are Michael Jordan coming out for a 3 on 3 session on a North Carolina back court. For me, writing is essential for being happy and maintaining my sanity. I do it because I love talking sports, movies and TV but also because I just love to express a though through the written word. Unlike podcasts and recording, a written piece is always there to go back to and revisit. I can do it easily and on many subjects. For example, I wrote articles on Lance Lynn, the beer of the week, a TV show review, a movie review and scheduled a couple interviews the past 72 hours. It’s a gift and it’s mine. Whether it’s good or not is beside the point. I can do it and people dig it. Good enough for me.

When the kid does crash for a bit, I stop everything. When he does take a short nap, if ever, that is time for me not to do laundry, write or wash dishes. That is time for me watch a TV show or movie with lots of curse words, sex or violence. Yeah, put that on a dad of the year slip. I take this valuable time to watch an R rated movie. Something not named Iron Man, Transformers or Toy Story. Something dirty. Raunchy. People doing bad things with dirty feet and hands or just an action flick with no remorse or need to censor something. You can’t watch these around the kid too much because the next time you are at Starbucks Vinny will imitate Frank Grillo and go, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” When he rises, the dark goodness gets turned off.

I need a shower before the wife gets home. It’s not a “I better smell good so I get some lovin feeling and sexy time” later shower. It’s a need to escape because for some reason, my son won’t bother me there. I keep the door open and he just stays away. He will check on me and ask me if I am done. I can just sit in there, soak, wash and soak more. I am the dad who brings a cold beer into the shower at 330 in the afternoon or maybe a glass of whiskey. Sip that shit. Slow. Drift away for a few minutes and come back. There’s something about hot water, steam, and soap that makes me think time travel is possible. I don’t know. Before I get in the shower I have to do some kind of exercise, especially if I haven’t worked out yet. I need to do a push-up, crunch, weight lift, burpee or something. Call it a man thing. I gotta do it. Explaining it would only make it weirder.

If my wife gets off work at 5pm, she is home by 545. She walks in and like a coroner assessing a dead body, looks over the house and its occupants. This is where the beaten up prisoner, the blow torch, tool belt and bullet casings need to be picked up or stashed away folks. Be careful, watch Dexter and get that shit right.

Dinner happens, loudness ensues because the wife is home and daddy has a tag team partner for the chaos and eventually Vin goes to sleep. He needs to because at 7am tomorrow, he will rise and we start this over again. My wife works 55-60 hours a week. She is a beautiful workhouse, so its Vin and I a lot of the time. That is our life and we are sticking to it. There are stressful days. It’s not even a headache. It’s a combination of a headache, shoulder pain and chest pains all together. You can’t get away from it so just suck it in. You just have to sink to the floor and eat it. It will pass. Every time. It passes and time keeps ticking. In life, the clock never stops. There are no penalties, timeouts or a time to slow it all down. The clock always moves forward, with or without you. That’s life. It’s a never ending stream of decisions, movements, stress inducers and stress relievers.

There’s nothing wrong with being a stay at home dad/writer. Really. There are days where I feel like I am ahead of the game, doing things well and keeping the kid happy. There are other days where it’s 12 Angry Men. Days where I feel like I am behind the eight, nine, and four ball. Days where I get my ass kicked and when my wife comes home, I am a charade of nastiness and it’s not fair to her. You can’t turn off a bad mood. Ever. It lurks on your face like a gash that won’t stop bleeding. I try to limit those days but what can I say I am human and can be a first rate bastard. But I won’t go away. I stay and fight. Like a boxer with no legs left but a will that can’t be denied.

When you sign up for stay at home duty, you are signing up for a 24/7 film. The camera never stops rolling. Around midnight is where I get silence and the freedom to watch several R rated movies and carry a thought or two. It’s a time to write so there is little time where I can just throw on a hoodie, roll up into the couch and not exist for a while. Stay at home dads don’t get off days or sick days. We are in it. All the time.

It’s worth it. When Vin is older, I am going to miss those days where he was four, I was 33 and time was endless. He is going to be grown up and I am going to be older and more weary. As parents, you can dream about the days where your kid goes off to school or moves out and you will never be prepared for when it actually happens. At least that’s what I think. When Vin leaves, a part of me will travel with him. Like a carry on piece of luggage that is tied to his wrist. That’s a dad. That’s a parent. You can’t shut it off.

Fuck. Fuck. I had to say this because I just dumped sap all over this previously rugged blog post. It was getting soft in here and out of control.

What else? 

*If you want to eat clean, eat lots of chicken breast. Broil it. Bake it. Whatever. Clean protein.

*Fruits that end in berry are very good for you.

*Don’t drink Sweet Tea. It will fucking kill you.

*A good workout doesn’t need to include weights or a gym.

*Never stop listening to music.

Here’s my final thought. No matter what happens in life, be you. Too often I see people adjust their personalities and makeup for someone else. Life is too short and runs by too fast to not be yourself. You know what I mean. Speak the way you were meant to. Do the things you need to do. At the end of the day, you must be satisfied with yourself. You should answer to you. Doing this will make you a better parent, son, daughter, friend and ally. A false version of yourself is good for nobody. Sometimes you will be mean to others and it’s okay because apologies are humbling and build character. Sometimes you will be nice and it won’t be received and it’s okay because receiving apologies will make you feel amazing. There will be good days and a lot more bad days. Life is a challenge. If it’s not mortality, it’s always something else. Just keep moving. Try to smile but don’t overdo it. Be careful who you bare your soul to. If they don’t deserve it, you can’t take back the information you gave them. Protect yourself at all times.

Thanks for reading. You can go now.

-DLB

NBC’s The Player: Gone too soon?

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Strike one, Wesley Snipes.

The former cinematic action star got his first red pen “x” placed on his television resume last week when NBC trimmed the order on The Player to nine episodes instead of 13. That is a nice way of canceling a show. It will air its final episode on November 19th, tentatively. That is when networks shows start to take that midseason break and let reruns fire up or possibly new shows, like Shades of Blue, bloom a bit. The Jennifer Lopez cop drama will take over the coveted Thursday Blacklist exit spot at 9pm central in January, effectively ending Snipes first foray into the tube. Was it too soon?

No. The show was entertaining at times but far too often, repetitive and with a plot more flimsy than Snipes’ acting chops or overly choreographed fight scenes. It carried zero juice, the thing that gets people to stick around and see where your story goes. The Player was flat. A dud. Every week it came on, you though to yourself, “Will this episode reveal anything new or just produce an exciting shootout?”

In the Strikeback NBC showdown, Philip Winchester lost out to Sullivan Stapleton. The latter’s show, Blindspot, has been wildly successful and got picked up for a full 22 episodes. Sullivan got a better show than his former co-star. Blindspot has a sharper premise, a better cast and a lot of avenues for its story to grow. It’s also not as contrived. It’s still network familiar but it’s intriguing.

What happens to Snipes now? A few more direct to DVD action fests before another chance presents itself. If Christian Slater can get three chances at a TV series, Snipes can get a couple. He should just bring Blade to TV. Get it over with.

Did you like The Player? Are you sad to see it go?

Kingdom on Audience: “Be First” Review

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Disclaimer: This isn’t not your standard “this is what happened and that’s it” recap. It isn’t a basic review. It’s my takeaways from it. Take it or leave it.

What-Kingdom

When-Wednesdays at 8pm central

Where-Direct TV/Audience/1114 on UVERSE HD

KingdomWhen it comes to fighting, “Be First” is the mentality. Be the first one to punch. Be the first one to react. Be the first one to decipher the other fighter’s code before you get popped. Episode 204 of Direct TV’s Kingdom rung the bell with another appearance from Sean Chapas, Alvey’s buddy from the past who showed up in the second week and immediately struck me as someone one could NOT trust.

Mark Consuelos looks like a decent enough guy. He’s smart, in good shape and seems like he wants to help the big lion of the Navy Street gym. He’s dropping pick me up tales about not worrying and seizing the moment, mentioning the big GOD and his effects in the process. He’s seems to have a button up pasted onto his body instead of wearing it. He’s snake and that’s why you can’t trust him. Somehow, he is going to hurt the Kulina and Lisa(Kiele Sanchez) is going to tell Alvey, “I told you so.”

We find Alvey spending time with Sean at one of his investment locations, a retirement home. Sean is giving Alvey a taste of a potential gold mine. It’s too bad the investment will cost Kulina 30,000 to get a share. The stock market is like tossing a hail mary blindfolded down the field. Something a fighter should invest in only if he is sure and isn’t dealing with a guy like Chapas. That’s TV for you. Imitation of life with more gasoline added in for good measure.

Nate is recovering from his knockout by rewatching it over and over again. Every fighter thinks they are invincible until they get knocked out cold. Afterwards, like a detective, they have to investigate what went wrong. He can’t seem to do anything in his house for long because his annoying as SHIT girlfriend comes in, rubs on him and tosses his phone away.

Let me admit something. Nate’s girlfriend, the sometimes drunk or stoned chick who won’t stop nagging, is a pain in the ass and doesn’t seem capable of understanding a fighter. Nate was chowing down on a burrito in week 2 and she whined about wanting the kid to go out, wedge down on chips and salsa and pay attention to her crap. The kid can’t catch a break and the girlfriend has to go. We will get to that later.

Jay is feeling upbeat as he strides into the house in the morning. He spent the night with Laura(Jessica Szohr) and feels like ten million bucks. A sad Christina mopes over a P&B sandwich before work. Jay wants to get her a new job, but she doesn’t care. Apparently, feeling sorry for yourself pays by the minute. She does perk up when asking for Laura’s number, but when he hears it, Jay has an alarm go off in his head. Christina wants my lovely new girlfriend’s number. Jonathan Tucker can do it a lot with a look. Mischief and contempt can be spelled with a single look. He knows it is a bad idea but he literally pulled this woman from the depths of drugs, hooking and sure handed misery. He gives it to her and the audience lights the match.

As she shops with Laura, Christina doesn’t feel right. Here is this new woman in her son’s life filling her cart up with art supplies and she feels weird. Only one thing can happen. The mother of men spills her entire story to Laura. The drugs, the abandonment of the kids and probably more. The look on Laura’s face doesn’t read, “Oh that’s okay, I’m just a lovable photographer who craves drama.” This girl doesn’t want a side of difficult with her slice of man. Her face spells duck and run.

When she stops returning Jay’s calls and texts, he wants to know what happened but won’t say it out loud. Maybe he doesn’t know. When he confronts Laura later as she is trying to leave for a party, she gives him all the answers he needs without using words. His mom spooked her and she is backing off. Who else uses the phone died excuse? They do know when phones recharge all those texts and voicemails come back on. Everybody on the show has IPhones. Steve Jobs ain’t fucking around people. This is sad for Jay.

Earlier in the day, Alvey asked him to either wait a fight or get skinny like Adrian Brody for his next fight if he will allow Ryan Wheeler to fight him. I’ll be clear. Alvey isn’t worried about Jay losing. He is worried about Ryan losing. If Ryan loses, the humpback whale money maker of the future dies a little. Here is a guy buying new trucks, new guns and thinking about kicking 30K to a business endeavor that may not pan out.

The great thing about Creator Byron Balasco’s characters are they seem like people we’ve seen on TV before, but there is always a wrinkle to their actions. They aren’t imperfect, screwed up and capable of acting like a fireball in a forest.

Speaking of Wheeler, he is doing more than flirting with the new female fighter, Alicia Mendez(Natalie Martinez). He trains with her in the ring, getting into positions that you won’t see two people commit to at Starbucks or Panera. Later on in the sauna, she pretty much strips down in front of him. The signs have been on for hours. These two will have some sex and good for them. It’s nice to see two people carry out the simple pleasure of conversation and sex. They are fighters, lonely people and in need. A simple story. Lisa may not like it but she has a baby inside her so she can’t stay mad for long at her ex-boyfriend and new fighter banging.

Poor Keith. The guy can’t shop in the grocery store, look at an avocado straight or hold his hard liquor. If anyone needs to get laid, it’s Keith. Paul Walker Hauser doesn’t get to participate in the fight scenes(nah, he just kills his enemies in the kitchen) but he is a fine actor and someone who doesn’t ask for your sympathy. He earns it. What looked like a simple plot device to get Ryan acquainted with someone from the outside has blossomed into a real friendship and one with complications. He’s still a liability but a necessary outside the ring distraction for the audience. Hauser really nails this role.

There’s an interesting exchange between Alvey and Lisa. She finds out earlier in the episode that the baby is a boy and the look of quiet resignation on her face peels the layers off her discomfort in Season 2. If any prospective mother needed a baby girl to quiet the storms of testosterone, it was Lisa. She won’t get that, because as her man tells her, he is “a maker of men”. Poor Lisa. Sad deals for her and Jay this episode.

Nate fails his exam with the doctor and isn’t cleared to fight. When he tells Alvey he is, the old man doesn’t believe him for a second. The more I think about this kid’s fight, I think the only place he feels peace with who he is comes inside the ring. I never listened to a single Jonas Brothers song but I think that is helping me appreciate Nick’s acting that much more. Here is a kid who was forced to be a star before he was 10 years old and has been riding that wave for so long that becoming something like Nate seemed like a far fetched idea. After 14 episodes, he has carved out an identity on this show. Every episode, we get to know him more and more.

So when the bomb is dropped and his annoying girlfriend finds some male pics and videos on his phone, we are almost happy for the kid as he is berated in the gym. Someone knows his secret, but that revelation may be the best thing that happens to him down the road. It could have been I just hated his girlfriend and glad she is finally moving out. I don’t know.

At the end, we see Alvey calling Chapas in for whiskey and bad decisions. It isn’t the idea that investing in retirement homes is a bad play. People are old and most need a place to spend the final days of their lives. I just can’t think of a good outcome with Alvey going in business with his old friend, who has a shit eating grin, is reconnecting with Alvey and seems to be bringing in dark clouds. When the guns come up in the conversation, I am assured of something. Kulina firing those weapons in the first scene of the premiere was a sign that down the road he will need that firepower to rid some poison from his life.

Alvey has a pregnant girlfriend. Two healthy kids. A champion fighter. A thriving training career. A gym. A motorcycle and truck. A trio of guns. He has it all. Why is he inviting more into his life? When does a fighter who can no longer fight feel whole? Probably never.

Things get real interesting when Jay tells Lisa that he wants the Wheeler fight, with or without Alvey’s approval. Shit is about to get real in this family and on this show. The next six hours will be hot.

What happens with the Jay/Christina/Laura tripod of doom?

Will Ryan’s rendezvous with Alicia have consequences?

Will Lisa ever smile again?

Is Alvey making too many plays?

Will Nate find peace if he can’t fight?

Will Jay fight Wheeler?

Answers come in the following weeks. Until then, I suggest rope work, a few laps and a bag to hit.

Thanks for reading this unqualified review.

Adele is back and better than ever

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Adele-2012Adele has a plan. The British artist with a voice that could rock ten thousand battle ships is releasing her first album in four years on November 20th, entitled 25. The number title follows 2008 release 19, 2011 release 21, and now 25. She can sing, woo a nation with her voice and gets to do whatever she wants. On November 17th, she will hold a one time only concert in New York City which will air on NBC on December 14th.

Slowly, Adele is taking over the world again. She may do this every few years. Right when the dust has settled from her last album and the impact starts to subside, she comes back to rock us again. She can sing. I mean, she really can. She could sing in a back alley with no studio aide. She could sing in your backyard, your church or the bar down the street. She doesn’t need 75 wardrobe changes like Katy Perry or wild theatrics like Lady Gaga or Miley Cyrus. She comes out, sits at a piano or stands at the mic, and just tells stories with a pain in her voice.

Fresh off a layoff that included finding love and having a baby, Adele dropped off “Hello” on the internet last week and it broke the web. People stopped walking in the street to listen. Meetings stopped. Starbucks lines got clogged. Women had to hear it. Men had to pause and memorize it.

In the video, the first 60 seconds don’t involve any singing. Just an old abandoned dusty house that Adele walks into and starts pulling back covers and uncovering furniture. She sits down, stretches her neck, and slowly peers at the camera. The piano starts and that means the shivers begin.

“Hello, it’s me. I was wondering if after all these years you’d like me to go over everything.”

In one line, she is reintroducing herself to the faithful fans and also informing new listeners that what they are hearing is genuine and that she can recap the past two albums, which is consistent with heartbreak and loss.

Adele has it all. She has won Grammy awards, sold millions of albums and when she releases a song, people flicker to it like a warm fire in the cold of winter. She is old school and required these days, as the world of music rides a wave of music that is more spectacle than built from craft.

I like her because all she needs is a mic and a piano. She has the stories to tell and the need. She doesn’t make music when she is told. When she is ready, she strikes. In 2015, there’s respect in that practice.

Adele is the antidote to the crazy Cyrus, who will do anything to get your attention, on or off the stage. She can sing a song about New York called “Hometown Glory” or “Set Fire to The Rain”, a song about falling in love for the first time. It’s all genuine with this lady.

Now excuse me, I need to listen to “Hello” again. On November 20th, I’ll be buying that album too. Whether you are a fan of her style of music or not, it’s hard not to respect Adele. She’s back and ready to take over the world again.

Happy birthday, Dolph Lundgren: The Swedish Destroying Engineer

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1410187582114_wps_26_Dolph_Lundgren_in_stills_Let’s be clear. Dolph Lundgren has starred in 72 movies and has kicked ass in every single one of them. He doesn’t care where it is shot at or going. He will show up and kick and add a little bravado in the end. Today, Dolph turned 58 years young, and he isn’t slowing down. Many will always know him as Ivan Drago, the Russian tank who slaughtered Apollo Creed and challenged Rocky Balboa to a cock measuring contest in Moscow. To me, he is one of the last action heroes. Unlike Arnold, he didn’t go into politics and waste his twilight years. Unlike Sly Stallone, he didn’t inject all kinds of drugs into himself and stick to sequels. He didn’t disappear like Don The Dragon Wilson or Chuck Norris. He just kept working and produced these signature titles.

Silent Trigger. Hidden Assassin. The Sweeper. Bridge of Dragons. Jill Rips. The Last Patrol. Agent Red. Direct Action. Fat Slags. Hidden Agenda(not a sequel to Hidden Assassin). The Final Inquiry. Direct Contact(not a sequel to Direct Action). Command Performance. The Killing Machine. Small Apartments. Stash House. One in the Chamber. The Package. Legendary. Battle of the Diamond. Ambushed. Blood of Redemption. Puncture Wounds. Riot. Shark Lake. War Pigs. 

NONE of those are made up titles. All are legit direct to DVD action junkie entries. Reading off Lundgren’s film resume is like asking a drunk stoned action fanatic to list off dreamy titles they thought of while playing video games. Lundgren has done it all. He’s knocked Sly out, fire guns along Sly and Arnold and went against Van Damme in Universal Soldier. He has played the Punisher and fought crime alongside Brandon Lee. When he isn’t busy being an Expendable or having bit roles in Coen Films like Hail Caesar, Lundgren is scaring home intruders via picture. That’s right, someone broke into his home one time, saw a picture of him with his family and immediately ran the fuck out. They ran all the way to the next state.

In addition to playing wavy blonde haired heroes in Trigger Bridge Agent Killing Package Redemption Legendary Pigs cinema adventures, he is a smart dude. He has an IQ over 160 and is an MIT graduate. He isn’t lunk head who will break you. He can tell you how your body works and solve science and mathematical equations while kicking your ass. The man is a gem.

You can smirk when he picks up Arnold’s laundry in the Kindergarten Cop sequel, but know one thing. Lundgren knows exactly what he is and never stopped working. He will be kicking and pumping out sludgy one liners when you are pumping gas into your car years from now. It’s what he does. It may happen in Indonesia, Russia, Iraq, Delaware or possibly Mexico. He isn’t a pretender. The dumbest thing one can say about action stars is that they are bad actors. Action stars don’t act. They kick ass and make you believe it. Lundgren never acted a day in his life and doesn’t need to. Let’s see if Russell Crowe can raise his feet above his head. No, he can’t.

I’ll never forget hearing Stallone tell the story of how Lundgren sent him to the hospital during Rocky 4. Before they started filming the boxing scenes, Sly idiotically told Dolph to come at him for real for 45 seconds. Lundgren hit him so hard that he sent Sly to intensive care for nine days. The writer, director and star had to be flown back to America because Lundgren hit him so hard that his heart banged against his ribs and started to swell. True story. It’s not wise to mess with Dolph.

Prepare for more Lundgren too. He had six releases in 2015 and will have six more in 2016, including Female Fight Club, Larceny and Don’t Kill It.

Just don’t piss him off or break into his home. Call ahead. He may spare your life and give you a free copy of the 2005 classic The Russian Specialist. 

“Steve Jobs” will make you dream big again about movies

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“You don’t care how much money a person makes. You care about what they make.”

People want they can’t have. They need it to be whole again, if only for a moment. Steve Jobs knew this and dedicated his entire life to giving the people what they wanted. Options on a computer. Easy hook ups. Internet. Music in their pocket. The ability to have it all right in their palm. He just needed time to create his masterpiece. Like a painter figuring out which brush he should use first. He had to fail hard again and again before he put it all together.

Danny Boyle’s new film, written by the maestro of dialogue Aaron Sorkin, is exhilarating, propulsive and engages the mind because it effects everyone who carries an Apple laptop around, an iPhone, iPod, iPad or iWatch. It all started with Jobs. This movie makes you dream big again about the power of cinema and what it can do when used right.

Boyle’s film chronicles three events in Jobs life. The launch of Macintosh in 1984, the opening of Jobs’ independent project Next in 1988 and the legendary launch of the iMac in 1998. Two failed, and one exploded.

In order to properly tell the story, you need great actors. One of a kind talents who can morph into any shape or form on a movie screen. You DON’T need Ashton Kutcher. Boyle’s greatest move here is putting British chameleon Michael Fassbender into the arrogant conductor’s skin for two hours. While he was a genius at knowing where pieces went and the big picture of technology, Jobs was a mean guy. A bad father and a worse friend. Everyone who stood face to face with him was a debate opponent. His own daughter couldn’t get compassionate love. As Jobs says towards the end of the film, “I was poorly made.”

If all you know about Jobs are the pictures of him at launches smiling at the crowd looking like God, Fassbender takes you inside the demons that curled and pinched inside his chest. The man had a wounded heart that seemed to never get completed before birth. His wiring was different, like in a computer where one plug needs to go into a certain outlet or the system breaks down. Calling Fassbender Oscar worthy is like calling coffee hot on arrival. It’s like saying the rain will make your clothes wet. This isn’t a performance. This is a transformation that peels Jobs like an onion. The man goes from Magneto to Jobs in a blink. That’s power.

Kate Winslet is nearly his equal as the long suffering assistant Joanna Hoffman. Fassbender and Winslet share many scenes literally firing verbal bullets at one another. She knew everything that he didn’t and knew how he worked better than most. When he needed to know which door was his door, Hoffman told him. When he couldn’t understand his daughter’s need for attention, he needed her. Without Hoffman, Jobs would have been a mad man stuck in a garage.

Jeff Daniels needs to work with Sorkin more. The writer’s words fit the actor’s speed. The Newsroom duo reteam here for Daniels’ former CEO and disgraced boss John Sculley. Throughout all the misery, Sculley was a father figure for Jobs, and watching Fassbender and Daniels trade dialogue like they were two tennis players on a hard court is award worthy itself. If there was an Oscar for best exchange in a film, these two guys get it hands down. Their tragic final moments will haunt you as the credits roll.

For the people who are still convinced Seth Rogen can’t act, come watch him work here as Steve Wozniak, the Ringo to Jobs’ Lennon and the guy who created the world that Jobs wanted but never got the credit. As the fumbling yet passionate partner in crime, Rogen instills Wozniak with compassion to balance the pride that is spread around the floor. A maker of the switchboard and the internal dynamics of the Mac never got the recognition he deserved and in three separate scenes, pleads with Jobs over giving credit to his co-workers. The acting here is so magical that you forget these are actors and just go with the flow of the film.

Michael Stuhlbarg(Arnold Rothstein on Boardwalk Empire) imbues the innocent yet Jobs flame resistant Andy Hertzfeld, the guy who Jobs told to complete impossible missions before the launch. When you go through your everyday life, remember that one man threatened another’s life because he couldn’t make a computer say “hello” on time. That’s the Tao of Steve and Andy.

Throughout it all, Sorkin and Boyle are rocket launchers. Sorkin’s dialogue is like David Mamet on steroids. A hyper kinetic orchestra of words, timing and emotion. He adapted a script from Walter Issacson’s book on Jobs. Boyle has worked with great writers before but he found his Jimmy Page in Sorkin. Someone who could give him the words required to make a masterpiece. Boyle has done it all. 28 Days Later. Trainspotting. 127 Hours. The underrated Sunshine. Slumdog Millionaire. His films defy genre placing and that’s why he is great. He doesn’t miss when he goes behind the camera and he may have created his best film here in Steve Jobs.

The movie plays out like Birdman’s sibling. One location. Long uncut takes of people walking and talking. The ability to do so much with so little is amazing. Boyle, Sorkin, Fassbender, Daniels, Rogen, Winslet, Stuhlbarg and company all deserve a mention for putting egos to the side and creating this masterpiece.

That’s the best thing about the fall/winter season of film. The overload of great movies. As much as I enjoyed Furious 7, Avengers: Age of Ultron or whatever else arrived in the summer, October through December is the greatest time for cinema. It’s when the ring is cleared for the heavyweights. Films like The Martian, The Walk, Bridge of Spies and Steve Jobs. Movies that means something, are powerful and engage a viewer like few other films can. It’s where Hollywood breaks out its greatest hits record and gives it a fine polish.

Steve Jobs was a jerk but he knew it. He was a genius at everything that didn’t have to do with human emotion. If you don’t know who he is, look him up on your phone. If you are holding an iPhone, you are able to look up Steve Jobs because of Steve Jobs. As George Jung, played by Johnny Depp, said at the end of the great film Blow, “My ambition far exceeded my talent.” To me, that’s Steve Jobs.

If you crave a dose of history that connects directly to the present and the future, watch Steve Jobs. Better yet, just go watch it. Steve Jobs dreamed big. So should we.

What Goes Up Must Come Down, Daniel Murphy

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Game 4. The Mets lead The Kansas City Royals by a thread,3-2. Top of the 8th inning. 1st and second, one out. Eric Hosmer turns over an inside pitch and sends a weak grounder towards second baseman Daniel Murphy. He charges, and the ball slips under his glove. Ben Zobrist scores from second. Lorenzo Cain to third. Only one out. Game wasn’t over but it felt that way in Citi Field. Blue and orange clad Mets fans looked on in disgust. Happy Halloween, Mr. Murphy. What goes up must come down, Murph.

May I call you Murph? Is that okay? Can we get on a platonic Robocop friendship going on here? After all, we are both Daniel’s and right now the internet is turning you into Bill Buckner’s younger brother. The other first baseman who ironically enough was playing the Mets in the 1986 World Series and let an easy grounder slip under his glove. History has a way of kicking someone right where they least expect it.

Murphy has enjoyed a rather historic 2015 postseason. This isn’t an average player coming to superhero life in October. Murphy is a career .291 hitter with a .424 slug who just put together a fine regular season. In only 130 games, Murphy drove in 73 runs and hit 14 home runs to go with a .449 slug and 113+(OPS sliced up into the particular park Murphy plays in). This isn’t a southpaw finding his way. Murphy has become otherworldly in the postseason. The Dodgers had no answers for him. The Cubs couldn’t figure him out, pitching him inside and outside or all around the plate. He cranked home runs in six consecutive games and they all had a signature impact. He was Roy Hobbs for 2 weeks but as sports teaches the lot of us, the good will be followed by some bad if you play long enough. Murphy’s law? Almost.

In a vacuum, Murphy’s overall postseason is still strong. His 7 home runs and 11 RBI to go with a .764 slug still shine bright, and he made a snazzy play on a double play grounder to end the 8th inning and hold the Royals to a 5-3 lead. He stopped the bleeding but that came after he popped a few stitches.

Murphy has played in over 920 games in his Major League career, which started back on August 2nd, 2008. There’s a good chance he will remember this one the most unfortunately. Athletes remember the duds over the greats. The goats over the heroes. That is wired into their DNA as young players. The good burns only half as bright as the bad, especially in the playoffs. Before Game 5 opens tomorrow in New York with the Mets backs up against the wall, fans will rip him in coffee shops and bars. “Looks like the Murphy magic ran out!” “Too bad his bat was left in Chicago!” All of it will be said and some of it will be written by NYC scribes wanting clicks while the Yankees are down.

Murphy has nowhere to hide here. He hasn’t had a good series. He is 3-17. Five strikeouts and two walks. Here’s the thing. He has zero extra base hits. All singles. No home runs. No doubles or triples. It doesn’t matter anymore what he did on October 21st(4 hits, HR). It doesn’t matter that in Games 2-4 against the Cubs he had a combined eight hits and three home runs. It’s in the past. Gone. Floating like a bird down the subway.

It wasn’t all Murphy’s fault. The Mets bats have fallen silent far too often. Jeurys Familia has come into two games with a lead and watched it all collapse, even though the second time wasn’t entirely his fault. Jacob deGrom was human. Matt Harvey and Noah Syndergaard didn’t have great games. Yoenis Cespedes is kicking balls all over the outfield. Things have gone bad. However, the white knight in Murphy looms large right now.

All that matters is today. What does Murphy do to redeem himself? Comebacks in sports are a great thing to watch. Watching an athlete rise from the ground and get it all back. I guarantee Murphy didn’t sleep last night. Clocks fell back but his mind sprung forward. All he can think about is Game 5. The bright lights. The win or go home mentality that won’t leave his or the rest of the team’s mind.

As Sean Connery’s wise old cop asked Kevin Costner’s Elliott Ness in The Untouchables, “what are you prepared to do” Daniel Murphy?