Final Review: The Works of Jody Hill

"The Foot Fist Way" (Directed by Jody Hill, 2006)

"Eastbound & Down" (Season 1, Episode 1: "Chapter 1," HBO)

"Observe & Report" (Directed by Jody Hill, 2009)

Whether the protagonist is a has-been with a serious cocaine addiction or a Tae Kwon Do instructor with an ego the size of Texas, Jody Hill certainly displays a penchant for conflicted characters. Despite boasting a small filmography, the North Carolina-born writer/director has provided his audience with some of the most detestable characters to ever grace the screen. In fact, the protagonists of Hill’s HBO pilot episode “Eastbound & Down” and his two features, “The Foot Fist Way” and “Observe and Report” could very well be the offspring of the same demented family. Still, no matter how nasty the characters prove to be – and punching a little kid square in the face is pretty nasty – Hill somehow gets us to root for these people. With three-dimensional characters, hilarious writing and poignant direction, Hill throws out the rule book that all protagonists are supposed to be heroic and gets the viewer to side with some pretty terrible human beings.

           

Set in a rural North Carolina town, "The Foot Fist Way" is everything a martial arts film shouldn't be. The story revolves around a redneck Tae Kwon Do instructor, Fred Simmons (Danny McBride), whose only pursuit in life is to kick ass and drink beer. Although his dojo is located in a tiny strip mall and his expos are held in the parking lot outside, Fred thinks of himself as cream of the crop. He believes the single trophy he won over ten years ago is proof enough that he is the champion of all North America. So, when a big karate movie star, Chuck "The Truck" Williams, arrives in town, Fred seizes the opportunity to show off his fighting chops. But, after Fred walks in on his wife cheating on him with his personal hero, Fred's life begins to spiral out of control. The audience watches as a man so out of touch with reality slowly comes to terms with his true identity and can’t help but self-destruct in the process. 

Charisma is a one of the most important qualities that defines every movie star. Box office draw aside, a charismatic actor is the easiest way to get the audience to side with the protagonist. The audience can't help but feel sorry for these actors when the love of their life leaves forever or root for them when the villain builds obstacles nearly impossible to overcome. Yet, charm is the last thing most people would associate with a person who asks for a divorce by urinating on his wedding ring. In “The Foot Fist Way,” the challenge for Danny McBride was to bring likeability to such an unlikeable character. McBride accomplishes this difficult task by treating his role with complete sincerity. At first, this approach may seem counter-intuitive. Why would anybody feel sympathy or cheer for such a narcissist? In this particular film, the answer is Fred’s fragileness. The movie drops hints that Tae Kwon Do is all Fred has in his life. Of course, this means he is quick to defend it – a habit that usually ends with Fred putting his foot in his mouth. For example, when a potential client mentions that meditation is just as effective as Tae Kwon Do, Fred snaps back, "Meditation is great and all but have you ever heard it saving somebody from a gang rape type situation? Meditate on that." Rather than being mean for the sake of being mean, McBride shows us that this is a character trying to cope with his insecurities. Basically, he creates empathy by lacing his machismo with several insecurities. As a result, the viewer is willing to put up with such deplorable behavior because we are hoping the end will bring us a change in his character.

Going hand-in-hand with charisma is humor – another great method that allows the audience to lower their defenses. Throughout the entirety of “The Foot Fist Way,” the script provides great one-liners and absurd situations. On the surface, playing the protagonist’s hostility for laughs seems to be the design of the movie. However, that would be playing it safe. Anybody could play this role with a cheeky, look-at-me attitude. Part of McBride's sincerity is what makes his actions so funny. He treats every insignificant moment with the utmost reverence. Instead of casually asking a student to join his demo team, Fred acts like a king bestowing a rare honor upon one of his subjects. Additionally, this approach relieves the viewer of feeling any responsibility. If jokes came at the expense of others, the viewer would feel obligated to make judgments of Fred. Wisely, the filmmakers make the distinction that we are supposed to be appalled by Simmons. For example, Fred sees nothing wrong with punishing one of his pupils by beating him up. Here, the joke is not the violence but that the character sees violence as a reasonable solution. In other words, the comedy helps provide insight to the character's logic. By offering this understanding to the viewer, we find it easier to sympathize with Fred.

Maintaining this theme of drama and comedy, Hill’s poignant direction helps balance the contrasting tones. Ranging from Quentin Tarantino’s cartoon violence to Wes Anderson’s mumble-core, every great director showcases a certain style. For Hill, his style pulls the rug from beneath the audience’s feet by his tendency to abruptly shift tones. For many films, this direction would be inappropriate but, in the case of “The Foot Fist Way,” shifting tones makes sense. Underneath the comedy is a dramatic character study. Yes, the movie has a comedic sensibility but the viewers are not supposed to take the story lightly. By coloring Fred Simmons as a troubled figure, the audience cannot get away with simply laughing his depravity off. While we laugh and gasp at the character’s actions, the audience feels sorry for him.

Hill’s direction also encourages the viewer’s participation and creates an oddly mesmerizing effect. Instead of occupying our time with a few cheap laughs, Hill asks us to examine the origin of Fred’s problems. The audience finds themselves laughing one moment but immediately confronted with Fred’s sad state the next. For example, mid-way through the film, Fred has a nervous breakdown in the dojo’s bathroom. When he resumes class, he proceeds to lose his mind. Without the previous context, witnessing a teacher freak-out in front of a bunch of people may have been considered funny. Thanks to Hill’s direction, the audience recognizes the situation as utter self-destruction. As a result, we gain sympathy for the character. With many scenes similar to this one, the audience starts cheering for a person who would have originally made them gasp. 

Perhaps the most conflicted character to ever appear on screen is Travis Bickle (Robert DeNiro) in “Taxi Driver.” So of course, Jody Hill conceived his second feature, “Observe and Report” as an homage to the darkness of Martin Scorsese’s classic but applied it with his twisted sense of humor. Like “Taxi Driver,” Ronnie Barnhardt (Seth Rogen) wants nothing more than to rid his world of crime and corruption. However, the only world he knows is the mall where he works as a security guard. Moreover, Ronnie cannot get over his false self-image brought on by bipolar disorder to serve any real justice. But, when a flasher plagues the mall, Ronnie assumes the responsibility to solve a real crime. However, problems begin to surface when a detective is assigned to the case and trumps Ronnie’s authority.

Simply utilizing Rogen’s happy-go-lucky stoner persona could have brought a suitable amount of charisma to the protagonist. However, as we’ve seen with his first feature film, Hill is a filmmaker who loves to take risks. In this movie, he deconstructs Rogen’s established personality and paints the portrait of a man with very flawed mental problems. During an interview on the evening news, Ronnie sends a warning to the perpetrator and exclaims that if he comes to the mall again he will murder him. Judging from the way the character carries himself, Ronnie takes his job way too seriously. If this were the only side to Ronnie the audience sees, then he would be a very two-dimensional character. To prevent this problem, Rogen brings a childlike naivety that lies underneath all the delusions and mood swings. At times, his obliviousness treads on disturbing. During his mental evaluation at a therapy session, Ronnie talks about his dream of "getting God's work done" with "the biggest shotgun you've ever seen." Although Ronnie can appear downright frightening in some scenes, the audience recognizes that he is well intentioned. There is no malice behind he actions. Instead, he has very odd understanding of what it means to protect someone. Given this insight, the audience finds it much easier to side with the protagonist, even if his methods are questionable.

While the movie isn't stuffed with as many quotable lines as "The Foot Fist Way," the writing is the greatest aspect of the film. The script provides plenty of laughs but the film's structure is ultimately the biggest factor that allows the audience to root for Ronnie. Essentially, the plot is a classic underdog story. The odds seem incredibly stacked against Ronnie and the entire secondary cast tries to restrain him. Even Detective Harrison (Ray Liotta), who originally establishes himself as the voice of reason, slowly succumbs to Ronnie's overwhelming personality and turns into a raving lunatic by the end of the movie. For example, he tricks Ronnie into giving a fake job interview at the police station while all the other officers snicker in the back closet. Ronnie may be a dangerous basket case, but with scenes similar to this one, the script portrays Ronnie as a victim and the world as his bully. Even Ronnie's own mother can't find the words for a proper pep talk to boost his spirits. She attempts to cheer him up by claiming, "You may not be the smartest person in the world but... you're handsome... from certain angles." Of course, nobody with a heart wants the bully to prevail. Through the course of the film, the audience hopes Ronnie finds the ability to overcome his oppressors. By depicting Ronnie as a vulnerable person, the script justifies our reasons to root for the protagonist.

Despite the character of Ronnie Barnhadt being so clearly a Jody Hill creation, the director's signature style is subtler here.  During the run of the film, the tones remain relatively stagnant – an odd choice when juxtaposed with Ronnie's bipolar disorder. Instead of alternating between comedy and drama, the film relishes in its dark comedy genre. For example, during one of the night shifts, a fellow security guard named Dennis (Michael Pena) tries to convince Ronnie to indulge his wild side. We then immediately see shots of Dennis ingesting copious amounts of drugs like heroin. Yet, the consequences of this bender are never explored and the sequence is merely played for laughs. Humor without consequences may seem shallow but, when viewed with a more critical eye, the decision to maintain a consistent atmosphere appears deliberate. Looking back on the picture, the bleakness perfectly sets up the world that Ronnie occupies. The characters are burnouts and the gray setting is mundane. The only place of vibrant color is the mall, the place Ronnie holds sacred. Keeping this in mind, most of the empathy in the movie comes from making all the other characters even more horrible than Ronnie and depicting the setting as brutally oppressive. The writing further reinforces Ronnie as a victim to circumstance and easies our hesitation to root for him.

Again employing Danny McBride for the lead role, Jody Hill brings his twisted sensibility to cable television with the HBO series “Eastbound & Down.” The story follows Kenny Powers (Danny McBride) and his retreat back to his hometown of Shelby, North Carolina where he works as a substitute gym teacher at a local middle school. After the spoils of fame and fortune proved to be too much for the MLB pitcher and burning all his bridges along the way, the league shuns Powers. The series follows his desperate attempts to mount his triumphant comeback. The only problem is that his massive ego continuously gets in his way.

A racist, a homophobe and a xenophobe, Kenny Powers is by far the most despicable character in Hill's arsenal. During school classes, Powers rifles through student lockers stealing lunches, money and anything else he can find. However, Powers is weirdly the most likable of the three protagonists. Now a veteran actor by the time of its debut, McBride fully harnesses his charisma. McBride's personality could have easily been the sole focus of his character but that would be one-note. Instead, the creators humble his larger than life attitude with multiple flaws. Behind Kenny’s alpha-male persona is a shattered ego. Like Fred Simmons, Powers is a man battling many insecurities. The difference that sets the two protagonists apart is the fact that Powers is not so much delusional like Fred but severely depressed. While “The Foot Fist Way” showed us the surface of Fred’s delusions, the pilot episode has no problem tossing his viewers in the dark abyss of Kenny’s despair. The lingering shot of Kenny crying himself to sleep is evidence enough of his mental state.  In order to get the audience on his side, McBride uses the character’s sadness to create empathy.

In addition to giving the audience a fully realized character, the HBO series showcases some of the best writing in Hill's filmography. The series acts as a culmination of "The Foot Fist Way" and "Observe & Repot" by providing plenty of quotable one-liners and bleak surroundings. A major reason why Kenny is so likable is attributed to his unique rhetoric. Hugging an old high school flame, Kenny asks, "I smell your essence. Do you smell mine?" To his character, every trivial moment is crucial to the outcome of his inevitable comeback. Additionally, Kenny is blind to the fact that nobody cares if he ends up never throwing another pitch. For example, at the end of the pilot episode, Kenny hijacks the school's PA system to address a bunch of middle schoolers with his curse filled announcement concerning his pursuit to rejoin the majors. While Ronnie was the underdog with everybody holding him back, Kenny is the underdog in his own mind. Much of the humor comes through the idea that only Kenny worries about what is going on in his life. If Kenny weren't so egotistical he would see nobody else has reason to care. Nevertheless, the audience feels sympathy for what appears to be such a hopeless cause.

If it weren't for the abundance of jokes, one could possibly mistake the show for a drama. This confusion would be understandable due to Hill's direction. In order to create empathy for Kenny, the director treats the protagonist like the tragic figures found in Greek literature who fall victims to their own hubris. So, for the audience, returning to the majors is not a victory but redemption. The irony is that the audience knows more about Kenny’s struggle than he does. His conflict is not so much a fight to get back into the majors but to change the attitude that caused his fall. Like "The Foot Fist Way," the viewer roots for the protagonist because we want to see a character change.

After examining the two features and pilot episode by Jody Hill, one can see a common theme running through all of them. With three-dimensional characters, funny writing and poignant direction, the director finds vulnerability in his characters and manipulates it to make unlikable people likable.  Whether it is delusion, insecurity or depression, the audience is provided an understanding of the protagonists’ warped viewpoints. By doing this, the audience frees the characters of any judgments and is given justification to root for them. Perhaps, the fact that a viewer can side with anybody so long as the proper amount of insight is provided tells us something about human psychology – but that would be a whole different topic. What we do know is that, for all the horribleness the viewer puts up with, the filmmaker rewards us by making them than just mean. No wonder horrible people are more fun to watch than nice people. 

Television Review: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

“It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” (Season Three, Episode 9: “Sweet Dee’s Dating a Retarded Person,” FX)

Gold digging the mentally challenged, huffing toxic glue and a song about “a man who breaks into your house and rapes you” – sounds more like the FCC’s worst nightmare than an episode found on basic cable. Aptly described as “Seinfeld on crack,” FX’s original series, “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” adopts the groundbreaking show’s no hugs philosophy and amps up the chaos. With the characters at their most manipulative, the third season’s episode titled, “Sweet Dee’s Dating a Retard Person,” serves as a clinic on how to walk the tightrope of politically incorrect humor.

Told through the demented eyes of five barkeeps and their weekly get-rich-quick schemes, the typical “Sunny” episode satirizes taboo subjects ranging from sweatshops to dumpster babies. However, the show works best when it uses these broad concepts as a backdrop and focuses on the perverse relationships of its characters – something this episode managed perfectly. As suggested in the title, Dee (Kaitlin Olson) and Dennis (Glenn Howerton) investigate whether her current up-and-coming rapper boyfriend is mentally handicapped. Meanwhile, Mac (Rob McElhenney), Frank (Danny DeVito) and Charlie (Charlie Day) form a rock band called Chemical Toilet (a euphemism for a port-o-potty). The show could have churned out an easy parody of the music scene but how many more times do we need to be told the industry is a corporate sham? Luckily, the creators realized this and opted to relish in the lunacy of our five lovable sociopaths.

The show’s signature banter has become the biggest appeal for its audience. Despite being so mingled in each other’s affairs, nobody in the gang can see beyond their own needs and warped viewpoints. For example, Frank joins the band so he can convince the kids to “bop” with him. Yet, Mac is much more cynical. He insists, “the kid’s aren’t bopping anymore. They’re banging each other and doing meth before they hit grade school.”

While the humor can be crass at times, the purpose of the show is not meant to simply shock the audience. Tackling delicate issues poses the threat of becoming offensive, so “Sunny” makes the point clear that you aren’t supposed to be laughing with the characters, you’re supposed to be laughing at them. The joke of this particular premise is not that Dee’s boyfriend is possibly mentally challenged (for the record, we learned by the end he isn’t) but that Dee is such a pathetic and desperate person that she is willing to stoop so low as to take advantage of somebody.

An important aspect of straddling the fine line between funny and distasteful is character development. The gang doesn’t form a rock band just because that was all the writer’s room could come up with. Every action and every motivation faithfully follows each character’s specific logic. Nowadays, too many sitcoms – ahem, “The Office” – abandon the world they’ve created in favor of a whacky premise. However rude or manipulative or downright evil the gang can be, the audience at least knows who they’re going to be hanging out with for the next half hour.

Art Exhibition Review: Thorne's Miniature Rooms

“Thorne’s Miniature Rooms,” The Art Institute of Chicago, 111 S. Michigan Avenue

A guest visiting the Art Institute of Chicago may be surprised to find a Georgian Period dining room, a serene Japanese meditation room and a 1930’s modern living room (at least what it meant to be modern 80 years ago) among the paintings, sculptures and other art exhibits. As if you stepped into the Twilight Zone, these three rooms along with 65 others can be found a mere few feet apart from each other stowed away in the basement of the prestigious art museum. With an amazing attention to detail and the help of several artists, Mrs. James Ward Thorne transports the viewer across continents and through various time periods with her miniature rooms gallery.

The exhibit credits Thorne as the unique vision behind the works of art; however, Claus Brandell and Eugene Kupjack are distinguished as the two artists who were commissioned to help craft each miniature. Constructed between 1934 and 1940, Thorne’s miniature rooms display offers viewers a God’s eye view that allows one to see how design, culture and architecture evolved from the Middle Ages to early 1940’s Americana. The fact that each interior matches exact one-inch by one-foot specifications offers unparalleled accuracy and realism. In addition, every miniature is constructed with the same materials of the depicted era. The borderline obsessive-compulsive attention to detail remains the strongest element of Thorne’s gallery. Patterns on the upholstery are hand-stitched onto the furniture and fireplaces are speckled with ash and roasting embers. If you aren’t too embarrassed to stick your face up against the glass, the three-dimensional space and naturalistic lighting make you feel like you’ve been transported out of the museum and into a different century.

Despite the apparent care it took to craft each room, Thorne’s display contains a playful quality to it. Whether this aspect is intended or not, guests can’t help but feel that they have wandered into at an over-the-top dollhouse hobby fair. This probably explains why the contemporary art gala was placed upstairs and scrutinized by adults while Thorne’s gallery was banished to the basement away from all the other artwork and ransacked by children climbing the railings and rolling around on the carpeted floor. Yet, the art gallery turned day care center/jungle gym is not entirely a bad thing. The displays appeal to a childlike sensibility as you catch yourself imagining the miniature rooms being occupied by miniature people. At the very least, Thorne’s exhibit provides a break from the stiffness of the rest of the museum. Worrying about bumping into and breaking an antique from the Byzantine Empire is nonexistent down here. Plus, you don’t have security staring straight through your soul and barking at you to not touch anything. Visitors are simply left to look at something that is just plain fun.

SXSW Coverage

Any criticism worth reading is one that provides a larger context to its subject. Fusing a belief or idea into the writing is what separates a critic from a reporter.

For this reason, the reader shouldn’t be surprised to see that three critics (Jim DeRogatis of WBEZ.org, Greg Kot of the Chicago Tribune and Thomas Conner of the Chicago Sun-Times) extracted three unique perspectives from Bruce Springsteen’s keynote address at this year’s SXSW festival. Though each provides a distinctive insight, neither holds less or more weight than the other.

One opinion rings true throughout the three articles ­– Bruce gave an unexpectedly good speech. Kot likened the address as an hour-long critique of music history. Providing the audience with a litany of his personal influences, Springsteen discussed everyone from Elvis to the Sex Pistols. Going hand in hand with this lesson in rock ‘n’ roll history was a comment on the industry’s current status. The music scene has splintered into a seemingly incalculable number of sub-genres. These particular focal points are where the three critics diverged in their articles.

Kot wrote, “What matters is not how the music is created, but the ‘power and purpose’ behind it.” The critic used Springsteen’s speech as a lens to examine the passion every true artist contains. Underneath Springsteen’s encyclopedic knowledge of music was a clear admiration for the art. Kot emphasizes Springsteen’s respect for James Brown and notes the admission that the Animals’ song, “We Gotta Get Out of This Place" sums up his entire discography. Looking back, Kot viewed the keynote address as a showcase of Springsteen’s passion and reverence for his peers.

Conner also noticed Springsteen’s extensive knowledge of music. However, the critic differs from Kot in that he viewed the various bands as a statement that music cannot be restricted to a simple definition. He provides the following quote from Springsteen that reads, "The one thing that's been consistent over the years is the genesis and the power of creativity. It's all about how you're putting what you do together. The elements you're using don't matter. It's not confined to guitars, tubes, turntables or microchips. There's no right way, no pure way of doing it -- there's just doing it." The sea of bands that flooded the clubs of Austin for those three nights is evidence enough that music means something different to each individual. No matter if you’re listening to a Woody Guthrie song or something along the lines of melodic death metal, the transcendental experience only music provides is a unifying theme that connects all listeners.

Within the third article, Jim DeRogatis provides a comment on the music industry’s changing climate. Certainly, the plethora of sub-genres has created a sustainable niche market. However, the critic questions whether this “ever-narrowing” scope of rock ‘n’ roll ultimately isolates the listener. After all, he insists, “there was a magic to be had in the universal shared experience.” A concrete answer isn’t provided because only the future can tell us that. However, Springsteen views variety, not as exclusionary, but an illustration that “the ideals he grew up with are alive and well.”

The three critics all tackled the same event and, in some instances, they quoted the same material. However, the point to be taken here is not that one critic should be regarded higher than another. Rather, bringing your own personality and ideas is fundamental to the critical process. Otherwise, every article would be a carbon copy of one another and what’s to be learned from that?

Movie Review: Almost Famous

“Almost Famous” (Directed by Cameron Crowe, 2000)

Be honest and unmerciful. This mantra is repeated throughout Cameron Crowe’s semi-autobiographical film for good reason. Besides providing the audience with an entertaining story, the movie serves as a crash course in criticism. “Almost Famous” avoids the often cliché story of musicians teetering on the brink of success and opts to examine those who were there to witness the period of decadence. Underneath the culture of sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll, the film illustrates what it means to be a critic – both the passion that drives a rock journalist and the ethics he or she must follow.

Set in 1973, the film follows 15-year-old aspiring rock critic, William Miller, when Rolling Stone gives him his first assignment. Played by Patrick Fugit, the protagonist is molded after a young Cameron Crowe. Like the director who also wrote for the prestigious magazine, William is tasked with following the up and coming band, Stillwater, on their cross-country tour. While on the road, William forms a relationship with Penny Lane (Kate Hudson) and guitar prodigy, Russell Hammond (Billy Crudup). However, the movie’s central conflict sets in when William’s newly formed friendships threatens to jeopardize his morals as a critic before his professional career even begins.

One of the greatest strengths of “Almost Famous” is its ability to depict a critic’s passion without becoming too cheesy or sentimental. To quote Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s fictionalized version of Lester Bangs, “True music, not just rock 'n' roll, chooses you. It lives in your car, or alone, listening to your headphones... It is a place apart from the vast, benign lap of America.” With lines similar to this one, the movie paints an authentic picture of the individual’s connection to rock. Yet, going hand in hand with an enthusiasm for the music is an internal drive to simply write. “Almost Famous” demonstrates the forces that define a genuine rock journalist. Instead of wanting to be a part of the culture, rock journalism is about loving the subject and loving the craft even more.

However, abiding by a sense of ethics is equally as important as the passion. Early in the film, Lester warns William that a critic must never make friends with the rock stars. He claims that maintaining the authenticity of your opinion is vital to the survival of rock criticism. If a critic concedes to the people who “buy you drinks, offer you drugs and give you free plane rides,” Lester forebodes that “they’ll ruin rock ‘n roll and strangle everything we love about it.”

Like all good films, “Almost Famous” is an entertaining story told from a unique perspective. However, what sets this move a part from the rest is that it offers the audience something to learn. Far too often, people assume that the rock critic is a snob or a person resentful of the success of others. “Almost Famous” pulls back the curtain on that myth and reveals the art behind legitimate rock journalism. After watching the movie, the audience sees that a critic has a sincere enthusiasm and strives to have that enthusiasm heard. More importantly, if critics allow people to have influence over their opinions, it threatens the credibility of rock journalism as an art form. After all, rock is not meant to simply be, as Bangs coins it, “an industry of cool.”

Television Review: Archer

 

“Archer” (Season 1, Episode 1: “Mole Hunt,” FX)

Currently, twenty-two James Bond films have been made and a twenty-third is set to release later this year. Although we’ve witnessed the pop icon dismantle nuclear bombs, combat a giant of a man named Jaws and thwart evil plans, we never saw the secret agent deal with the mundane real world. By portraying an intelligence agency as any other boring day job, FX’s animated series, “Archer,” offers a fresh perspective on the tired spy genre with a crude protagonist, hilarious supporting cast and offbeat sensibility.

At the center of the show is Sterling Archer (H. Jon Benjamin), a loose parody of James Bond who comes with all the issues of self-entitlement and bad temper one might associate with a ruthless spy. Other than his humor, there is little reason for the audience to like Archer – he’s vulgar, selfish and prone to violence. When his butler, Woodhouse, lets a dog inside his apartment, Archer promises to rub sand in Woodhouse’s “dead little eyes” if he finds one strand of dog hair. Yet, the show’s creator, Adam Reed, is able to make him a surprisingly compelling character. Underneath Archer’s fragile ego is a childlike vulnerability. Allowing us to see the cracks on the surface makes it much easier for the audience to empathize with an otherwise unbearable protagonist.

In the pilot episode, Archer attempts to clear his name when a coworker accuses him of embezzling from the intelligence agency, ISIS. The only problem that stands in Archer’s way is that he’s totally guilty. He’s been blowing his operations account on personal expenses that include gambling, prostitution and a bunch of other vices. Typical of many spy thrillers, the plot turns convoluted when Archer discovers a mole in the field as he attempts to wipe out his own records. However, the pilot’s primary goal of establishing the world is enough to keep the viewer engaged and entertained.

To draw comparisons between ISIS and the C.I.A. would be inaccurate – the C.I.A. is much too professional. ISIS is less like a secret intelligence agency and more like a dysfunctional family. At the head of the company is Sterling’s mother, Mallory. Like her role on “Arrested Development,” Jessica Walter plays the domineering and cold mother. In fact, Mallory is so controlling that she forced Archer to assume her late dog’s name, Duchess, as his code name. While Archer is on rocky terms with his mom, the relationships with his co-workers are equally as strained.

For special assignments, Archer is partnered with his former flame, Lana Kane (Aisha Tyler). Certainly, his decision to mix business with pleasure comes back to bite Archer as Lana proves to be very jealous and shows major trust issues. Among other co-workers is Pam (Amber Nash), an HR representative who can’t keep her mouth shut, Cheryl (Judy Greer), the receptionist who Archer can never remember her name and Dr. Krieger (Lucky Yates), a mad scientist who also enjoys making love to his colleagues’ pita sandwiches. The interplay and banter between these colorful characters supplements the series with hilarious office humor. So, if you ever wondered what James Bond’s work might be like in everyday life, “Archer” answers your question.

Music Review: The Night Before Christmas

David Hasselhoff, “The Night Before Christmas” (Edel Records, 2004)

As seen in many forms of popular culture, unmasking the fraud behind Santa Claus’ beard is the best method to spoil Christmas. Yet, David Hasselhoff has discovered a more effective way to stomp on our holiday spirit with his album, “The Night Before Christmas.” While Hasselhoff’s voice isn’t terrible, there is something unintentionally hilarious about the knight rider singing you a Christmas carol.  Combined with the sloppy and awkward musical composition, this 14-track record taints Christmas memories like bird crap on the windshield of a new Ferrari.

Presenting itself as a concept album, the opening track introduces the listener to Hasselhoff reciting “Twas the Night Before Christmas” in order to sing his two daughters to sleep. Accompanied by howling wind and voice echoes, this spoken word piece establishes an eerie mood that is more appropriate for Halloween than Christmas. By the end, the structure proved too ambitious as the story is slowly forgotten and eventually ignored. This haphazard production is a consistent theme apparent in the following tracks.

Throughout the album, Hasselhoff pulls out all the bells and whistles - literally - as those instruments are on ten of the 14 songs. In fact, they are the only instruments featured on “Deck the Halls” and “Joy to the World.” Obviously, Hasselhoff is not familiar with the word, overkill. Yes, chimes are synonymous with Christmas carols but their pervasiveness inadvertently evokes a feeling of Hasslehoff trying to hypnotize his listener. However, “The Night Before Christmas” isn’t a one-man show. On some of the songs, Hasselhoff is accompanied by a chorus that seems to sporadically interject whenever they feel like it. When listening, one can’t help but feel that the album was thrown together. This only supports the idea that Christmas albums are corporate ploys designed to sucker a few bucks out of some fool. Nevertheless, that superficiality doesn’t stop the Hoff. On “Silent Night,” he interrupts the middle of the hymn with a reminder to celebrate Jesus’ birthday. As well intentioned the message might be, its seriousness is diminished by such lackadaisical production.

Judging from the album, Hasselhoff seemed hell-bent on destroying any Christmas song in his path. For example, “Jingle Bells” is arranged as a 1950s rockabilly composition sung by a Buddy Holly wannabe. The track rests uncomfortably beside the solemn “O’ Holy Night” and creates a jarring transition. Looking on the bright side, Hasselhoff demonstrates potential for a career in international relations. For example, he transports us to Germany with “Stille Nact” and, on the eleventh track, takes the listener south of the border with “Feliz Navidad.” Why this song came complete with auto-tune remains a mystery. But, one thing is for sure: if an eggnog-fueled uncle hasn’t dampened the mood at your family’s Christmas party, popping this CD into the stereo will definitely do the trick.