[Marion Shore]

Before I waste time exercising my profound analytical skills on The Brady Bunch, I have a few questions:

a) Is old TV OK?
b) Do you Brits even have The Brady Bunch?

[John Whitworth]

a. Yup
b. Nope

[Roger Slater]

When Louis Lumiere invented the Cinematographe in 1895, he famously remarked, "The cinema is an invention without a future," a quote which, until now, has seemed as ill-conceived as an Ozymandiasian boast, but, with the release of Dinner for Schmucks, has redefined itself as a paradigm of prescience, allowing Monsieur Lumiere to claim his place in history beside the Delphic Oracle for the acuity of his prognostication. Cinema, like Scrooge's business partner, is dead as a doornail, and now threatens to visit this reviewer as a ghost extracting repentance merely for having remained seated throughout this abomination, albeit with a sense of nausea that would make Sartre's protagonist eupeptic by comparison. Wittgenstein famously remarked, "If dogs could talk, we would not understand them." Were he alive today, he might expand his observation to cover actors appearing in the cinema that Louis Lumiere launched with so little enthusiasm.

[Marion Shore]

Originally Posted by John Whitworth

b. Nope

Poor deprived creatures!


What about SpongeBob Squarepants?

I assume Seinfeld is a go?

[Orwn Acra]

Whiffling through Baudelairean hyperspace, the operaticos of Britian's Got Talent clearly show the oscillatory prowess of judges and moderators, plebeians and patricians. Called the "sludge of the bourgeoisie" by E. Zola and "Fabulous!" by Liberace, BGT is a kernel of utopia in the pan of proto-post-postmodernist society -- a stratum of entertainment that obviously harkens back to the halcyon days of vaudeville and kitsch whilst reflecting upon contemporary culture's own ironical stance and self-aware posturing. The three judges clearly represent the Holy Trinity and the Portinari Alterpiece triptych, thus rendering the television show aesthetically sublime. The audience interaction undoubtedly signifies the Bolshevik Revolution and alludes to Trotsky's hidden love of Stravinsky. For today, for tomorrow, forever: Britain's Got Talent.

[Marion Shore]

Although at first glance Seinfeld appears to be a comedy of manners à la Jane Austen, we quickly realize we are more in the realm of tragedy than comedy. As soon as the eponymous central character delivers his opening monologue in the manner of a Greek chorus, we are led to consider Aristotle's description of τραγῳδία and to what extent it informs the elements of the drama. We wonder: which of the dramatis personae most embodies the prototype of tragic hero? Many critics agree that the flawed and hubristic George Costanza most qualifies for the role. But here the model breaks down. There is less here of Aristotle, more of Kafka, of Pirandello, of Sartre; it soon becomes apparent that these characters are doomed to navigate a landscape of postmodern despair, searching for a moment of awareness, of revelation, of catharsis, that neither they nor the viewer will ever find.