Gripes and Grumbles

Score One for Preservation

When I was a kid in the 1970s and early ’80s, much of the landscape I called “home” was rural. Open space was always nearby, even if you lived in downtown Salt Lake City, and out on the edges of the valley where my family was located, there were far more hay fields than housing developments. It was a comfortable, worn-in landscape that soothed the eye and fit the body like a really old pair of jeans.

Everything started to change in the mid ’80s, when a few subdivisions sprang up in the pastures of retiring farmers whose children didn’t want to continue working the land. These were followed by a shopping center or two, and then a couple of new stop lights to handle the increased car traffic. No big deal, it seemed… there were still plenty of fields, and the sweet smell of alfalfa in the air, and the same old dirt roads and open irrigation ditches and sluggish canals there had always been. But change was coming. These small building projects were, in fact, the beginning of a massive and uncontrollable chain reaction, like the first couple of flying neutrons that lead to a full-scale nuclear blast.

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Architecture is Dead

For those who may be keeping a list, another of my random interests is architecture. I’ve never taken any classes in the subject and don’t have the vocabulary to articulate many of my ideas about it, but I nevertheless have some strong opinions. I tend to approach the subject like I approach art — I may not know who painted something or why it’s considered important by the initiated, but I can tell you whether or not I like it, and whether or not I’d want it hanging in my home. And I have to say that, for the most part, I don’t like what passes for public architecture these days. (I’m not too keen on modern domestic architecture either, but today I’m talking about a public building.)

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Double-dipping Your DVDs

In Wednesday’s Trib, TV columnist Vince Horiuchi addressed a subject near and dear to my heart, the DVD. In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that I wasn’t an early adopter of this home video format. I’d seen DVDs demonstrated and was impressed with their capabilities, but I’d spent years (and a helluva lot of money) building a huge movie collection on VHS tape, and I was frankly annoyed that my collection was suddenly obsolete. I know myself and I knew that as soon as I started buying those shiny silver platters with their amazing picture quality, I would want to replace all my fuzzy old tapes, and that really galled me. Eventually, however, I saw the writing on the walls. It happened the day I spotted X-Men on DVD for a better price than its VHS counterpart. The future had arrived. I caved. I bought my first disc before I even had a player. And I never looked back. Now I’ve got a collection of nearly 200 films and TV series on DVD, and yes, I have replaced many (though not all) of my older VHS movies.

Replacing older copies of your favorite movies is what Horiuchi addresses in Wednesday’s column; however, he’s not talking about making the switch from one format to another. What’s put a bee in his bonnet is the way the studios keep coming out with newer and better versions of movies that have already been released on DVD. You know what I’m talking about, even if you think you don’t. Here’s the usual scenario: you see a flick in the theaters and you like it enough that you think you want to own it. Six months later, it appears on a “bare bones” DVD that contains only the movie and a trailer. Maybe you wish it had a few more extra features on it, but you buy it anyhow. You really liked this movie, after all, and you want to add it to your home library now. But then another six months pass, maybe a year. And then one day you’re at Costco and you see that this very same movie has now been re-released on DVD in a new “special edition” with five hours of documentaries, behind-the-scenes footage, deleted scenes, and whatever other “value-added material” the studio execs have thrown on the disc in order to entice you. Now you’re faced with a choice — buy the new-and-improved version or be satisfied with the one you’ve already got? If you’re any kind of collector at all, you probably buy the new version, at least for the films that you really, really like. You feel like a chump for buying and storing the same title twice, but you do it anyway. It’s what the hard-core DVD afficionados on the Home Theater Forum refer to as “double-dipping,” and it can be annoying as hell. However, I think Horiuchi is wrong to denounce the entire practice and ask for only one version of each movie title, just to save him from his own lack of self-restraint.

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Stupid TV Executives

Remember how only a few days ago I was grumbling that TV networks no longer give new series a chance? Well, here’s proof of my point: CBS has cancelled the promising new science fiction/legal drama Century City after a mere four episodes.

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The Fuss Over Cobain

I’ve been reading all over the ‘net that today is the tenth anniversary of the suicide of Kurt Cobain, the troubled, heroin-addled lead singer of the seminal grunge band Nirvana. Two of my favorite bloggers, John Scalzi and Wil Wheaton, have commented on this event in heartfelt, if somewhat ambivalent, entries. Personally, I feel no ambivalence on this subject.

I don’t care.

I didn’t care about Cobain when he was alive, I didn’t care when I first heard he was dead, and I certainly don’t care that it’s been a decade since his death.

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The Demise of the Traditional TV Season

There’s a column in today’s Salt Lake Trib in which television columnist Vince Horiuchi comments upon the decline of the traditional TV “season.” If you’ll cast your mind back to the Good Ol’ Days™, you may recall that new programming used to run in one big consecutive block that lasted, roughly, from fall through spring, with re-runs airing during the summer. That’s no longer the case, which Horiuchi thinks is a good thing. I’m not so sure myself.

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