Kneel Before The Slim Reaper

“Now I am become Death. The destroyer of hoop dreams.”  – The Slim Reaper (via Oppenheimer)

We always knew Kevin Durant was good. Last season he joined the 50-40-90 Club (50% Field Goals 40% 3pt and 90% Free Throw)- an elite group containing only five other players to put up such huge numbers over the course of an 82 games season. This impressive feat however was quickly forgotten by pundits and fans alike as Russell Westbrook’s knee buckled, ending Oklahoma’s championship aspirations while LeBron led the Heat to glory.

We’ve known Kevin Durant was a special talent ever since he entered the league in 2007 and marvelled at the effortless way in which he scored the ball. But it wasn’t until now, in January 2014, that the basketball public finally began to understand just how damn special Durant is and how scary he has become.

When Thunder management quietly announced in December that Russell Westbrook would be having further surgery on his troublesome knee and would not return until after the All Star break, it was widely assumed that Oklahoma would fall away from the race to secure the number one seed in the West. Without Westbrook’s dynamism, the argument went, the Thunder offence would grind to halt and too much burden would fall on Durant’s shoulders.

The argument was only half right. The burden has indeed fallen on Durant but rather than crack under the pressure, Durant has elevated his game to a level that few have ever seen and in the process ensured that Oklahoma have not missed a beat. Durant’s barrage began with two 48 point games against Minnesota and Utah respectively, but since Minnesota are unpredictable at best and Utah against all odds defeated Oklahoma, no one really took any notice and simply shrugged it off as Durant getting his points.

It wasn’t until a week later when Durant exploded for a career high 54 points against fellow Western contender Golden State, that people sat up and began paying attention.

Epic back to back performances against Portland and San Antonio soon followed. In both games Durant ruthlessly stared down his defender deep into the last quarter and drained cold blooded threes. Even as Nicolas Batum, and Tony Parker the following night, stretched desperately to contest the shot, everyone knew as soon as the ball left Durant’s hands that it was going in- again and again and again.

Not content with destroying Western contenders, Durant has dished out some pain to the Atlanta Hawks by nailing a contested game winner with three defenders trying in vain to cover him.

Yet it isn’t just that Kevin Durant has been putting up ridiculous numbers in the points column; the NBA is littered with fond memories of scorers getting onto a hot streak. What makes this stretch different is the efficiency with which Durant is playing. Not only is he averaging 36.5 points a game for the month of January but he’s doing it whilst maintaining a ridiculous field goal percentage of 53%. Normally hot streaks of this kind are accompanied by strong doses of ball hogging and shot chucking but such a high field goal percentage indicates a shooter letting the game come to him and choosing the right shot rather than the first shot.

What makes Durant so dangerous isn’t simply his height and shooting touch; it’s the variety of ways in which he can score. Watch those clips and you’ll begin to see the arsenal that Durant has at his disposal- Drives to the hoop, isolation plays, stepback jumpers, catch and shoot opportunities, post ups, finishing through contact. Not only can he seemingly score at will but he relishes the big moment. Even as a bewildered Portland defence sent a double team, Durant, effortlessly hit a clutch three pointer with a hand in his face. Ditto for San Antonio, Golden State and Atlanta. Put simply, Kevin Durant was built to score the basketball and he’s only 25 years old. What will he be producing when he enters his prime?

Another big test for Durant looms as he faces LeBron James and the Miami Heat this week. In the past James’ strength and defensive prowess have contained Durant’s scoring capacity so it will be interesting to see what Durant conjure in what could be a finals preview.

As the NBA season enters its second half, Durant has stolen a march on his competition for the MVP trophy and the Thunder are now certain to be in the reckoning for the top seed in the West. Of course, Oklahoma’s ultimate success in the playoffs still very much hinges on the state of Russell Westbrook’s knee but assuming Westbrook returns to action, the Thunder look to be very good shape. With Reggie Jackson and Jeremy Lamb providing scoring punch off the bench, the continued growth of Serge Ibaka, the hopeful return of Westbrook and Durant in the form of his life, Oklahoma seem set for a deep playoff run.

For now talk of playoffs and championships can be put on the backburner. One of the greatest offensive players in the game’s history is scoring at a stratospheric rate and mesmerising fans and opponents alike. For now let’s just sit back and enjoy what the Slim Reaper is delivering.

Long may he reign.

Last Comedy Standing

Three seasons in and Tim Allen’s Last Man Standing is still one of the funniest comedies on television. You read that right. A Tim Allen comedy about a father whose jokes come at the expense of his wife, socialists, hippies, Democrats, racial stereotypes, progressive family structures and big government is one of the funniest shows you’ll watch on TV. Not to mention one of its most rebellious. It’s traditional in every sense of the word; it still boasts a laugh track, the seemingly long lost “this show was filmed in front a live studio audience” intro and of course, many cranky old and traditional values and beliefs.

So why does this make it funny? Because the show isn’t afraid to be unpopular in its ways, and it has no qualms about being tuned in to the seemingly unhip demographic of Middle America; the constant butt of redneck Bible Belt jokes. The show runs against the grain of 2014’s vast landscape of politically correct, progressive and undeniably modern brand of comedy and for it, Last Man Standing should be given some credit for being the lone survivor amongst TV’s PC police. Through its history, the genre has been both a barometer of safe and wildly revolutionary and as time moves on, comedies are seeing a progression in the characters they portray and the stories they tell. Ellen was a landmark moment for Gay and Lesbian acceptance on mainstream television (at least one of its starting points) while shows like The Cosby Show and The Jeffersons broke down stereotypical racial barriers. The success of shows like Modern Family proves that audiences were ready to progress alongside and as the audiences continued to embrace real life characters in 20-30 minute sitcoms, we’re able to see that television is better for it.

What about the show that rebels against these principles but does it without the sneer of hate or discrimination?

Duck Dynasty on Last Man Standing? Of course.

As political correctness and progressive ideology become the norm for success on television, Last Man Standing has somewhat quietly stood back from the forward pack and have cut themselves a piece of traditional amongst the vastly left-wing agenda of modern comedy (in this brief interview, Tim Allen speaks about the show “pushing buttons”). Is left-wing comedy unfunny? No, of course not, but there are times when Last Man Standing seems to be the only comedy on TV unafraid to make a joke firmly at the crossroads of Barry Goldwater and Hillary Clinton (in a recent episode Tim Allen’s character Mike Baxter responds to his wife’s quip that “Hilary Clinton used to be a Goldwater girl in 1964”, with “so, Satan used to work for God, what’s your point?”). Their continued mocking of big government, communism and free handouts side by side with light misogyny, sexism and stereotypes certainly is not progressive, but in the show’s writers seem to do so with a big tongue-in-cheek.

In a way, Tim Allen’s character is a self-parodying anecdote of traditional versus progression. He’s your average, successful American entrepreneur who believes in working hard for yourself and your family. He loves football, guns, fishing and hates free handouts. Yet, he’s surrounded in his home by the four women in his family who are a mix of left wing to right, from deep to shallow. Much of his chagrin comes from this- not in a negative way- in a contrasting one. The once popular traditionalism of his kind has become the minority in the new America and while he’s not struggling with it, he won’t back down from a good jibe.

It’s rebellious yet harmless, old school but relevant. And who is to say that one can’t enjoy the comedic touch of popularly acclaimed shows like Parks and Recreation or Community, but at the same time enjoy some good old fashioned laughs in Last Man Standing?

Progressive comedy can be draining, and with CBS often relying too much on hyper sexualized fare, it’s great that there’s a comedy that is self-aware of its place in society today. Last Man Standing is proof that funny works both ways.

(It’s also always funny to make fun of hippies and socialists)

Film Review: Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit

In the decades after the Cold War, much of the landscape of clandestine warfare had transformed itself from the confines of blacklists and microfilm to the vast ether of information and data across the globe. Spies and their craft had changed, and with it, Hollywood’s portrayal. The practice had gone from jabbing someone with a poison-tipped umbrella to taking down entire nations with access from a computer; and so Hollywood had to evolve its sleuths from uber charming, yet seemingly unflappable womanizers to flawed, troubled and broken men. Jason Bourne became the modern day spy. James Bond became Jason Bourne and almost every spy since, has had a Bourneness to them that we, the movie-going audience seem to relate to. There’s now a vulnerability grounded in reality. Where once luxury sports cars turning into submarines was acceptable, it is now the norm for our agents to be armed with nothing more than a pistol, some training and their wit, facing their greatest of enemies in the reality we all find ourselves in.

Jack Ryan, perhaps author Tom Clancy’s finest creation, has been off grid since the Ben Affleck-starring The Sum of All Fears in 2002. It was an admirable entry into the Jack Ryan series but lacked the tension and imminent fear that presented itself in previous Jack Ryan outings- most notably in the still terrific The Hunt For Red October. In the ten or so years proceeding, much has changed in the world, and while nuclear threat seems to loom far in the background, the prescient danger continues to be that of technological warfare threatening to undermine our most treasured of security: finance. Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit is the official reboot of the Jack Ryan franchise and sees our protagonist continue his Benjamin Button act since Harrison Ford last donned the title in 1994’s Clear And Present Danger. The character’s genesis is beginning at a younger age we are given more of his development before delving into the primary plot of the film.

Imminent danger

Chris Pine’s Jack Ryan falls somewhere between Alec Baldwin and Harrison Ford’s; young enough to be brash and reckless, but at the same time, boasting a quality that convinces audiences he will grow into the Jack Ryan of old. Pine is surrounded by a pretty well-to-do cast that includes Kevin Costner (playing Ryan’s mentor and super-agent William Harper), Keira Knightley (Ryan’s eventual love interest and femme fatale Cathy Muller) and the irrepressible Kenneth Branagh (pulling double duty serving as the film’s primary antagonist Viktor Cherevin, as well as its director). The film is stronger for their parts, and while Costner’s role is quite restrained, there is an air of importance to him that works within the confines of the film. We’re also given a colourful palette of characters breathing out the warm air of nostalgia with its heavy Russian-villain lean. It’s the film’s most prominent connection to the spy films of old, and perhaps, beneficial in giving Shadow Recruit a sense of freshness. Surprisingly, Knightley’s character displays the cast’s biggest single nitpicky flaw. Knightley’s strikingly beautiful accent is stripped of its allure as she yams and yahs through a pretty terrible American accent. It’s the ‘Charlize Theron in Monster’ of accents (and not in the ‘winning an Oscar for the performance’ kind of way).

Unlike The Sum of All Fears, we’re given the less far-reaching plot of espionage cloaked in today’s turbulent and volatile financial landscape. Jack Ryan, CIA analyst, is tasked on uncovering a Russian plot to destroy America by crippling its financial structure. It’s all smartly done with the kind of explanatory tone that never breaches into condescension or overly smart. We’re given a look into the evolution of the Jack Ryan character- from tired economics student to battered and broken marine, and finally to the film’s primary voice; the analyst. While the film progresses over the course of a decade, it never grows tiresome and moves briskly through its narrative stages. The action is thick and heavy, and we’re once again grounded in the kind of hand to hand combat The Bourne Identity cemented as the preferred palette. The pace is comfortable and the dialogue smart, and much of the film exudes the kind of excitement and tension The Hunt For Red October is noted for.

Branagh’s direction resonates beautifully amongst the steel and structure of both New York City and Moscow; and in a particularly harrowing scene between himself and Knightley’s character, given a real sense of isolated terror and impending doom. Who knew lightbulbs could be so dangerous?

The spy genre may be one of the fields of film that has excelled the most in the post 9/11 world. They’re more grounded and realistic and to that extent, far more believable. Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit is an exciting new beginning for the franchise, and while it may not be as alluring as the original Jason Bourne outing, the Jack Ryan franchise hasn’t felt this right since the early 90s.

[rating=4]

 

Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit is in the cinemas now. 

 

JACK RYAN: SHADOW RECRUIT
Directed by: Kenneth Branagh
Written by: Adam Cozad, David Koepp
Cast: Chris Pine, Kevin Costner, Keira Knightley, Kenneth Branagh
Released by: Paramount Pictures
Running time: 105 minutes

Lacking Intelligence?

Over the course of five seasons, Chuck was the kind of science fiction dramedy fitting of a premise as ridiculous as it presented. An underachiever in life, Zachary Levi’s Chuck Bartowski is given near super powers when he is accidentally implanted with a super computer that houses intelligence and encoded data. With his new found upgrade, Chuck was able to learn martial arts, hack into spy secrets and gain access to information reserved for those with only the highest of clearance. Surrounded by sidekick buffoonery, easy-going humour and a great cast, the show was able to breeze along its more paramount subjects without being burdened by the weight of taking itself too seriously.

Fast forward two years after Chuck’s final sign off and we’ve got CBS’ latest science fiction entry in the Josh Holloway (Lost), Marg Helgenberger (CSI) starring Intelligence. The show’s premise? An overachiever in life, Holloway’s Gabriel Vaughn is given near super powers when he is purposefully implanted with a super computer that houses intelligence and encoded data. With his new found upgrade, Vaughn gains access into spy secrets and information reserved for those with only the highest of clearance. His advanced martial arts, weapons and combat come courtesy of his years in the military.

The crux here however, is that Intelligence is a very serious show about serious things. We learn in the pilot that Gabriel Vaughn’s spy wife has been missing for 5 years and is feared turned into a jihadi sympathiser. This provides much of Vaughn’s angst and drive to accept the responsibilities of having the world’s most intelligent computer in his head. While Vaughn is Chuck Bartowski 8.0, he is still given a guardian of sorts, someone to keep an eye on him and protect him much like Yvonne Strahovski did for Chuck. Meghan Ory (Once Upon A Time) plays Riley Neal, the Secret Service Agent assigned to the task. She’s beautiful, smart, skilled, and has a past (just so she’s got some sort of edge). While she’s great, she seems a little out of place next to Vaughn’s seemingly indestructible self, posing the question as to why she needs to be there in the first place.

Helgenberger’s turn as the director of US Cyber Command (which, it turns out, is a real thing) is your textbook inner antagonist amongst the so-called “good guys”. She’s the brains behind the operation but you can’t help feel that maybe she’s not showing all her cards just yet.

The first two episodes plod along nicely, with much of a muchness we’ve seen in current shows like Person of Interest and Almost Human. We’re given advanced overlays of what is happening in Vaughn’s computer charged head on the screen. We travel to exotic locations and we’re given the kind of friction between male-female leads we’ve seen countless times before in such well-to-do fare like Bones and Chuck.

Yet, it’s hard to come to terms with the silly premise without thinking of Chuck Bartowski. Why? Because it’s just so damn dumb that it seems even more ridiculous without the abject silliness that surrounded the colourful characters of the Buy More. The plot twists in the first episode of Intelligence alone are quite silly, and while much of the show is done well and by the books, it rarely does much to stand out amongst the current palette of successful science fiction.

The route its producers/creators have taken saddle the show with the burden of having something real to say, and in an age where cyber intelligence continues to be on the forefront of discussion, you’d better have some real gravitas to it.

Intelligence airs Monday nights on CBS.

The Only Team Old Carlton Knows: Celebrating 150 Years

When I first visited Princes Park at the age of four, perched on Coke cans with head bobbing curiously to view the action, I knew nothing of what impact the team wearing navy blue would eventually have on my life. I knew only that we supported Carlton.

There was no choice in the matter, no decision making process or weighing of the pros and cons. Most of the surrounding throng seemed to agree, with only a spatter of Fitzroy colours to highlight that an alternative existed.

I had been to see a match the previous season, but this was my first taste of the place that was to become as familiar as the living room.

I knew nothing of Carlton’s history of success or failure, nothing to determine whether this life-long inheritance was a sound one. I’d have been just as enthralled and bemused, I’m sure, had I been sporting a Lions scarf that day, and I’d have also been a devastated teenager when the league sent them north to Brisbane. My first hero was Paul Meldrum, but when Stephen Kernahan hoisted the 1987 premiership cup my fate was sealed.

By age six I was a fully-fledged obsessive, never without a football in hand and wearing out videos of The Footy Replay, at times the entire commentary seeping into my subconscious and peculiar facts regarding Carlton lore as customary to me as the Six Times Tables.

What was Bruce Doull’s original number and why did he change it? For how many years did Craig Bradley wear the exact same jumper? At which game did the “woof” for Ang Christou begin? Every incongruous question had an answer and I was at the ready to provide it quicker than the Princes Park scoreboard.

Similar tales are not uncommon, and despite the jibes about Richmond supporters having kids being tantamount to child cruelty, very few rue their lot.

This season marks the 150th since the formation of the Carlton Football Club, the most successful club in the history of the VFL/AFL (with 16 Grand Final wins) and one that – with a total of 23 premierships – have been champions more times than any other Victorian club. The dispute over the validity of the success of clubs from other states either prior to or since the AFL-rebadged itself in 1990 is one for another time, and in any event doesn’t detract from Carlton’s remarkable record.

Carlton are the third such AFL club to reach this milestone (behind Melbourne and Geelong) and are thus the oldest suburban team in the country, and amongst the oldest football clubs in the world. Where Carlton differs from all others is that since their formation in 1864 they have played 149 consecutive seasons without interruption (Collingwood, formed in 1892, are the only other club to have completed every league season since 1897).

While the modern history of the club is less glorious, the Blues have saluted every 6.7 years on average since that first season in 1864, and it is with this in mind that 2014 holds a very special place for all whose heart beats blue. The term is bandied about too often, but it cannot be disputed that Carlton is a truly great football club.

The key to Carlton’s outstanding success has been consistency. While Collingwood led the league premiership table for more than half a century, 11 of their 15 flags were won by 1936. Carlton, on the other hand, won eight in each half of the 20th century, finally claiming sole bragging rights in 1982, a position they have held either alone or with Essendon ever since. Equally, none of the traditional league clubs can claim supremacy over the Mighty Blues, with Carlton holding a positive win/loss record against all of them.

The highlights have been many. From becoming the first club to win a treble of successive league flags to the “Bloodbath” glory of 1945 and overcoming the biggest deficit in finals history in 1970, on and on the successes came for what was the richest and most powerful club in the new world of the John Elliott-led 1980’s, yet even then there were greater heights to scale. In 1995 Carlton set a new standard and the team came to be known as the record-breakers, sailing through the home and away rounds with an unprecedented 20 wins before cruising to an authoritative premiership victory.

In the first 100 years of league football Carlton had won more premierships than any other, beaten all of their competitors head to head and had never finished last. That is an incredible record.

When the Blues shocked everyone – including themselves – with a one point win over Essendon in the 1999 Preliminary Final, no one could have predicted that the team and club would hit rock bottom just three years later.

The club failed to net that 17th flag, so anyone under the age of 20 grew up with a rare beast: a mediocre Carlton. The 2000-2009 decade was the first since the fifties, and only the third in league history, not to feature a Carlton premiership. While finals wins in recent years are beginning to turn the tide, it has skewed the perception of Carlton as one of the league heavyweights amongst the new generation.

The Blues may have been the worst team in the competition, stripped of draft picks and pilloried as the laughing stock of the game, yet one fact will in time prove salient: they were only out of the finals for seven years. A lesser club wouldn’t be here at all.

It is in times of despair that faith is tested, yet even those dark years brought highlights. Despite the mounting wooden spoons and losing the beloved Princes Park as a league venue, there was still Fevola or Judd or an upset win over Collingwood to keep the fire burning. While in childhood I craved only success, adulthood and a change of fortunes conveyed a deeper understanding of what the club meant to me. Like caring for an ill loved one, my devotion was given a sharper focus when the chips were down.

Someone once said that to see Carlton is to be Carlton, and it rings true. All of the old clubs have their idiosyncrasies, but nothing matches the genuine belief that no matter the score we can still do it, just because we’re Carlton.

Big enough to be a major player yet not so large that every second person supports us, belonging to the Carlton Football Club is a special kind of gift. Unlike in English football, our supporters are separated, making group singing difficult. What other set of barrackers are arrogant enough to begin a rendition of the theme song before the game is even over? We do it at Carlton.

Mick Malthouse and Marc Murphy, fresh from the pulsating and unexpected finals win over Richmond that typified the Carlton spirit, have the honour of leading the Blues into this landmark season, and students of history will be well aware that prior to the breakthrough premiership of 1906 Carlton had endured 19 barren years. The distant ‘95 triumph marks the very same period of time.

Few things will bring a grown man to tears, but the love of a football club can be one of them. Despite the intervening years, the changing face of football and the depressing understanding of what can realistically be achieved in any given year, the excitedly nervous kid peering through the crowd to see The Blue Boys in action remains.

Here’s to the next 150.

Book Review: Birth School Metallica Death – Volume 1: The Biography

In December 2013, when six of the world’s continents could no longer accommodate Lars Ulrich’s ego, Metallica made history by playing a gig at an Argentine research station in Antarctica. The band also, however, gave its fans an early Christmas present and made the Freeze ‘Em All concert available online free of charge.

This double-sided, complex character of arguably the world’s best-known metal band has been one of Metallica’s defining elements – Metallica is both grandiose and generous, seminal and self-absorbed. This duality has found expression everywhere: critical and commercial success versus fabulous flops (remember Lulu?), pioneers of the thrash metal genre versus contemptible, self-indulgent sell-outs. James Hetfield’s dark lyrical ruminations have also given Metallica an intellectual quality absent in other heavy metal groups; this quality only presents itself, however, when Lars Ulrich stops verbalizing his every thought.

As you can see, I can throw quite a few things at Metallica, both positive and negative. However, I could never accuse Metallica of being boring, which, unfortunately, is the first adjective I reached for when reading Volume 1 of the group’s biography written by veteran music journalists Paul Brannigan and Ian Winwood and narcissistically titled, Birth School Metallica Death.

A slight qualification is necessary here. Volume 1 covers the band’s early years until the Black album, and there are moments of great writing and intrigue. The authors make an admirable examination of the childhoods of each band member and find, unsurprisingly, that hardship, loneliness and family strife ensured that music became the only solace available. The memorable phrase “hormonal clusterfuck of adolescence” wonderfully captures Hetfield’s isolation and aloofness, when social acceptance and popularity were still a long way off.

The authors’ exploration of the band’s formation and early struggles is also quite interesting. The intellectual merit I associated with Metallica at the outset was, at this point, somewhat rudimentary: Metallica’s forerunner, Leather Charm, produced the risibly titled, ‘Hades Ladies’. Had Ulrich and Hetfield chosen something else from their proposed list of band names, like say, Thunderfuck, it’s doubtful they would have found the same level of success.

Such deft humor and interest quickly become scarce and are smothered by the laudatory sentiment the authors adopt – the sense of destiny that Metallica was always going to become the world’s greatest metal group: Metallica’s “ascendancy seems inevitable to the point of being preordained.” The group’s originality is staggering, as they “had begun their journey not so much on a road less traveled as on a thoroughfare entirely of their own making.” This may flirt with the truth, but its painful repetition soon becomes tiresome.

The authors’ choice of subject matter is frustrating in parts. They spend far too long on tedious subjects and give scant attention to more complex themes. The tales of tour debauchery quickly exhaust their interest, while parts of Metallica history suggesting that the band is fallible receive just casual mention. This includes the band’s poor treatment of original bassist Ron McGovney and the cruelty visited upon Jon Zazula, the tireless producer responsible for the band’s early success. The authors seem to dismiss this as a positive, almost necessary cruelty that enabled Metallica’s advance to stardom. (The exception here is a semi-decent glance at Metallica’s conduct towards Jason Newsted, who comes across quite well.)

The end result of all this is a biography that reads like an extended schoolyard discourse on why Metallica is the greatest band ever and why all other bands suck. This would have been an apt subtitle. It’s not enough to heap praise on (almost) everything the band has done; the authors feel the need to throw stones at the bands who didn’t reach Metallica’s success: Anthrax, Slayer, Ratt, and Scorpions all come in for criticism, or are presented standing in awe in Metallica’s vast commercial shadow. This doesn’t just seem misjudged, but pointless. The annoying, diehard Metallica fans who think that the four elements of the title truly comprise life will no doubt lap this up, but the more discriminating fans will be left discontented. If the authors had excised just some of the more congratulatory sentences, the book’s length could have been significantly reduced, rendering unnecessary Volume 2, due out this year, when we will probably be told that really, honestly, after the 12th listen, St Anger isn’t all that shit. It is. So is this book.

Birth School Metallica Death – Volume 1: The Biography

by Paul Brannigan and Ian Winwood

Published by: De Capo Press