Parenthood Season 2 Finale (The TV Show)

I just watched the season finale of the TV show Parenthood for the second time.

I want to love this show. I wish this was my new favorite show. A new X-Files, a new Gilmore Girls. It has all the makings of a wonderful soapratic dramedy. A Brothers and Sisters with different enough characters that I see no problem watching the drama of another family I can barely relate to, again. Don't get me wrong, I love this kind of show, and I so rarely find a good one, that when I do I'm just thrilled and will tell everyone about it, even though I'm usually a little embarrassed.

As an avid Gilmore Girls fan, Parenthood was on my radar right from the beginning. I'm pretty convinced Katharine Hepburn, Judy Garland and Rosalind Russell all dropped the best of themselves on the soul of Lauren Graham as they left the earth, but I digress.

Here's the problem. The show spends so much time watching itself, that the audience doesn't ever get a chance to actually see anything. What the hell am I talking about, right? Well, for instance, in a scene in which two people are looking at each other and talking, the camera will bounce back and fourth between the two characters, and often so quickly that by the time your eyes focus on a face, the camera is moving back to the other face.

It's really frustrating. I want to see the whole picture. I want to see the subtle facial expression that occur while the other person is talking. I don't want to have to work so hard to see what's going on in a frame.

The last two episodes were really filled with emotion, but so much of it was lost in the attempt to direct our focus to the speaker. I want to control where my eyes look. It's not a documentary, it's not The Office or Modern Family or Parks and Rec. Parenthood doesn't need the camera to be a character - no one responds to the camera in anyway, but we're forced to follow the supposed eye movements of some random cameraman? I can't stand it. Seriously. It greatly decreased the ability to transmit the raw emotion that the episode had been building up to. I should have cried. I should have cried a lot, but nothing.

So, I'm a little disappointed. It's still a pretty good show, though. I see a lot of potential in it, a lot, and I legitimately want it to be my favorite.

As soon as they start utilizing the full range of actors on that show, and focus a little more on the unspoken, it'll be through the roof.

My Funny V

http://siruguri.livejournal.com/


I discovered yesterday, much to my dismay, that I have been unconsciously, and now consciously scoping out future husbands. I have been a staunch advocate of singlehood since the dawn of my time, so I feel forced to attribute this only to the presence of a vagina, and all that comes with it.

Crude? Perhaps. But gimme a break here, Folks, this is a game changer. A couple of months ago, I was under the spell of what I lovingly refer to as "pure idiocy," aka, a large family, with four kids. If one, why not four, live a little, right? I was out of my freaking mind. And now this. THIS.

Every member of the male species is under scrutiny, many more briefly then others, but it's getting pretty ridiculous. Celebrities are on the table obviously, but I have even taken to googling their slightly less attractive, but closer to my age, younger brothers. Some random tall guy was looking at the river from our fire escape, and I wanted him to turn around...so I could see his face, of course.

AND, on top of that 'of course,' another: Of course, realistic possibilities, meaning not strangers, not people who live across the country and who are not famous, are not an option. That is why I attribute this to a vagina issue.

From here on out, until this little spell commits suicide, I will and must refrain from being, and this is the only time I will reference this in my life, "Drunk in pub-lik." It is absolutely, positively vital that I be successful, or the next thing I know I'm going to be holed up in some trailer with four little tykes screaming for their supper while my hick and I shape tinfoil into hats, awaiting Zeeton's orders. You laugh, but this is serious. Abortion suddenly becomes the only rational choice there, and I would just assume avoid that, too.

Pray for me.