xylokopos

He certainly is no Ustinov or Michael Palin, but Bourdain is a better travel show host than the legion of other generic hosts at TLC - you know the type, everything is exciting, everything tastes great, all the locals are fantastic, blahblahblah. He has no apparent interest in the history or architecture or archeology of the places he visits, but then again his focus is the food and one could say that he is more than gracious and humble when it comes to local fare. Seriously, some of the stuff he has eaten so as to not offend his hosts, haunt me to this day and would make Bear Grylls start dry heaving. Unwashed warthog anus, anyone? The Romania episode that seems to be attracting a lot of hate, is an instant TV classic of the highest order, if you can't find surreal humour and travel madness in it, you are dead inside. "Entertaining and feeding the tourists" is a racket in every country - you feel the need to protest but you know it's true.

Antony Bourdain gets it. He has a gig where he is getting paid to stuff his face with food and get hammered on the local hooch, the man is a chef and not an ambassador or an Anthropology Ph.D. Not all his insights are hilarious and yes, it is hard to produce decent commentary when you are hungover, but seriously people, some episodes and observations are pure gold.

To better understand where Bourdain is coming from, read "Kitchen Confidential", you will not regret it.

Midsommer Murders is the very definition of a guilty pleasure: it delivers a thoroughly and sustainably enjoyable and rewarding viewing experience when it shouldn't; the production value, is there, of course, as is the top notch acting and confident, if simple, directing. It is in the stories, plots and characters that the show is comically simplistic, outdated and unrealistic. And yet, it does not bother you. Contemporary rural England seems to have been frozen in time - the villages might as well be the setting for a Hercule Poirot/Sherlock Holmes murder mystery - all these butlers and manors and decadent heirs and disenfranchised servants and hunting parties and minor nobles..and still, one plays along, you suspend everything you know England is, for the illusion and the stereotype that is presented to you. And even though the crimes can be appalling and the motives quite dark and daring ( the show had episodes dealing with incest, madness and extremely violent deaths), what you are left with is a type of nostalgia and dreamlike impression, a lingering memory of country pubs and inns and stone bridges and a luscious green countryside.

It is insane what some actors agree to in order to get a paycheck. Has Dolph fallen on hard times? How many years has it been since he was in a semi-decent film? One can only hope that a film will come along to resurrect him as the star he used to be. If Rourke's and Travolta's careers could be saved when all hope seemed lost, why not Lundgren's? Direct Contact is beyond awful and should be avoided at all costs. There is no acting, plot or direction. There is no continuity. Even those Bulgarian extras should feel shame for being in something like this. Somewhere in that mindscape that is cult film stardom, Ivan Drago, the Punisher and Sgt. Scott of the US Marines are weeping tears of blood.