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You Only Live Twice was on last night on ABC. I still find it a far more enjoyable film than its successor, Thunderball, but this one is still not without its faults. It is one of the most blatantly sexist Bond films, with one male character informing Bond that “In Japan, men always come first and women come second” and Bond enthusiastically approving. It also has a plot that is highly improbable even by James Bond standards: would the world’s superpowers stand down from nuclear alert after Bond has thwarted SPECTRE’s plan with only seconds to spare? would a space launch from Japan really be completely undetectable by everybody? The sets are all very well-done, but some of the film’s photographic effects are just-plain lazy. For a Russian spaceshot we are shown stock footage of a NASA rocket launch, complete with swaying palm trees in the foreground, ignoring the fact that the Russians launch their rockets from a vast plain in the middle of the country which is about as likely to have palm trees as the middle of Nebraska. Late in the film, when Blofeld’s mountain base is blowing up, we are shown footage of an actual volcanic eruption complete with lava. I suppose it’s not really fair to bust on a 1967 film for such things, but I’m doing it anyway. Another flaw is the film’s two main women: one of them, named Aki, is the Bond film “sacrificial lamb”; after she dies another Japanese girl shows up whose name I don’t think we ever even learn.

But the film is still a whole lot of fun; the producers seem to have learned from their pacing errors in Thunderball and constructed a Bond film that actually moves. The sense of fun is restored, and the score by John Barry — with its nifty Asian influences — is a gem.

An added bonus during last night’s telecast was a Top Ten list, of the best Bond theme songs. This was hosted by Brandi, a person of whose existence I was almost completely unaware until last night. Ah well. Apparently the list was collated from the results of an ABC online pole, and it shows. That’s the only way I can think that one of the worst songs I’ve ever heard in any setting was actually listed (Tina Turner’s song for Goldeneye). I would have appreciated that ancillary feature more if Brandi had taken time to explain just what the hell the lyrics to Duran Duran’s A View To A Kill song are about, but you can’t have everything, I suppose.

Next week brings us Diamonds Are Forever, which began the trend of increasing goofiness in Bond films during the 1970s. For those who blame Roger Moore for taking Bond in a farcical direction, tune in next week for Connery’s last Bond film. You might notice that Moore isn’t so much to blame for that.

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Final thoughts on Figure Skating at the 2002 Olympics: I am really looking forward to seeing Timothy Goebel and Sasha Cohen grow and mature over the next four years. I wonder if Yagudin will stick around for amateur eligibility or go pro; I rather hope the latter because — quite selfishly — if he goes pro I might be able to go see him perform when one of those touring shows hits Buffalo. I’m still thrilled to have at last seen a Russian skater who wasn’t, well, boring. And seeing the two Gold Medalist pairs on the ice at the Exhibition last night was great. I was hoping they would do something nifty like switch partners or something; and indeed, they offered a combined death-spiral that was amazing. And the most heartbreaking moment of the Olympics was not Michelle Kwan’s slip on her triple in the long program; it was Todd Eldredge’s in his short program, when you knew at that moment that his Olympic dream was over. He’s one of those people who is simply active at the wrong time: had he been in his prime at, say, Albertville or Lillehammer he might be an Olympic champion. That’s not a bad thing, though: Kurt Browning never won an Olympic medal either, and — if I may mix my sports metaphors — Jim Kelly is in the Hall of Fame.

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Listening this week: a grab-bag of film music. First up is Deutsche Grammophon’s new recording of Erich Wolfgang Korngold (Andre Previn, London Symphony Orchestra). This includes suites from The Sea Hawk, The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, Captain Blood, and The Prince and the Pauper. I heard about this on the rec.music.movies newsgroup, and being something of a Korngold nut I had to get it, even though I’ve always found Previn’s results to be of mixed quality. At times he tends to choose tempi that restrict the emotive power of whatever music he happens to be conducting (his Symphony #2 by Rachmaninov, on Telarc, leaps to mind), but when he gets the tempi right he can be as expressive a conductor as anyone (his wonderful recording of Gershwin’s Piano Concerto and Rhapsody in Blue on Philips, with the Pittsburgh Symphony, are a testament here). Unfortunately, the new Korngold recording is an example of the former. The Sea Hawk is one of the most thrilling of film scores, with brazen fanfares, a muscular main theme, and a love theme that sweeps and soars in the grandest Romantic fashion. In Previn’s hands on the present recording, though, the music seems to almost be chained in place, never really being able to engage the emotions because of the slowness of the proceedings. The disappointment is compounded by the fact that the men’s chorus in the famous “Strike for the Shores of Dover” cue is omitted entirely. This is the emotional high point of the entire score, and this omission is inexplicable. The music, sans the chorus, simply sounds wrong. It is wonderful to see film music getting more respect from the classical world, instead of being viewed with suspicion as some kind of odd bastard-child genre. It’s too bad the recording itself can’t be more successful. For a better Korngold experience, seek out Charles Gerhard’s amazing recordings with the National Philharmonic, which are still the best of this repertoire despite their having been recorded almost thirty years ago.

I’ve also listened several times to Howard Shore’s increasingly amazing score to The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. What an amazing work this is. In a recent interview in Film Score Monthly Shore talked at length about the operatic nature of his work, and it really is true. He uses the leitmotif style of composition to amazing effect, weaving motifs together in a tapestry that is thrilling, moving, and cohesive. My only quibble is that the CD, by necessity, omits much of the score. This work needs a release similar to the “Ultimate Edition” of Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace that came out a few years back: every note, in film order. (A particularly nice touch is that on the CD, the track titles are — for the most part — the names of Tolkien’s actual chapters. I like that kind of attention to detail.)

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What a night of skating that was!! Congratulations to the new Gold Medalist, Sarah Hughes, whose free skate last night was absolutely perfect — and what is more, it was completely electrifying in a way that I haven’t seen anyone skate since Brian Boitano’s unforgettable performance in Calgary in 1988. She owned the ice in a way that no other skater last night did — and I have to think that she and Sasha Cohen will be strong favorites for 2006.

As for Michelle Kwan, she was lucky to even get the bronze in a performance shocking in its tightness. I had a feeling all week that she wouldn’t end up taking Gold, but I didn’t think it would be because she slipped on one jump entirely, two-footed the landings on others, and generally looked stiff. I figured she would simply be beaten by Irina Slutskaya, her athletic better, and in a way she was — but Slutskaya’s program, while slightly better executed than Kwan’s (no outright slips), was still stiff and bloodless. Only one skater last night really took flight and glided across the ice with the same kind of charisma and skill that put one in mind of greats like Yamaguchi, Witt, Hamill and Fleming. That skater was Sarah Hughes.

(And ptoooooie!!! on the Russians for lodging a formal protest about the finish, apparently a sour-grapes bit of sniveling along the lines of “You gave two medals in Pairs, so we want one for the Ladies”. This was simply not a case like the Pairs, where the lesser performance was awarded the Gold. And lest anyone think I’m simply a North American-biased observer, the Men’s Gold was rightly awarded to Yagudin, who in my eyes was almost as electrifying as Hughes.)

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Spring training has begun, and with every year that goes by without a plan put in place for revenue sharing and a salary cap I care less and less. Major League Baseball is a complete and utter mess. (My team, the Pirates, opened a new stadium last year and then proceeded to lose 100 games.) This is the worst time of year for sports: football is over, baseball isn’t going yet, the NBA and hockey are not interesting until the playoffs (if even then), and I’ve never liked March Madness. Thank God for the Winter Olympics.

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Things that make me feel old, #453: Watching the Olympic athletes, in interviews, say things like “I decided I wanted to be a skater/skier/bobsledder/whatever when I was a little kid watching the Games in Albertville.” I was 21 and in college during the Games in Albertville…..

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Parents: If you’re looking for a movie to watch with the kids, and you’re tired of Disney and the assorted non-Disney Disney clones that clog the video store shelves, here’s a movie to find: My Neighbor Totoro. I watched this last night with my own daughter (she’s two-and-a-half) and it met with her sign of approval: she demanded to watch it again today. This anime production is just wonderful. The story of a father and his two young daughters who move to a country house near some woods (the mother is in the hospital with an illness that is never disclosed) is told in wonderful, real touches. The film treats its characters with respect, children and adult alike; no one ever acts mean or stupid merely to advance the plot — in fact, no one in the film is ever really mean or stupid at all. It is also loaded with wonderful touches. At one point, the girls are waiting out a rainstorm by huddling under a Shinto shrine when the boy next door — whose only expression seems to be the faces he makes at the older of the two sisters — comes by. He gives the girls his umbrella, allowing them to get home dry, and walks off through the rain back to his own house. Moments later we see him being yelled at by his mother for losing another umbrella, but like any boy his age he can’t take the easy way out and tell his mother what he did with it, so he tells her he lost it and accepts the punishment. Ten-year-old boys really do act like that.

Of course, the film involves magical beings who live in the nearby woods; these beings are presented matter-of-factly, as another part of the landscape; they are neither horrors or mysteries that become the entire focus of the film. The Totoro is a wonderfully realized being, and the cat-bus has to be seen to be believed. The animation may seem rough to people accustomed to Disney smoothness, but the details of each frame are perfect and true. The music, by Joe Hisaishi, is by turns movingly beautiful and delightfully childlike. This is a movie that finds wonder in the sound made by rain dropping on an umbrella. If you know anyone who doesn’t love My Neighbor Totoro, take their pulse or turn them toward the light.

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I’m a bit concerned about Michelle Kwan’s chances of winning the Gold in the long program. Yes, she is the best female skater in the world right now, but what’s got me concerned is the degree to which skating has become jump-focused, which will play into Irina Slutskaya’s strengths. She’s the athletic jumper, whereas Kwan is the graceful skater with impeccable lines, flawless spins, and wonderful artistry. Here’s hoping, though. Go Michelle!!!

(BTW, I would almost be willing to bet money that by the 2010 Winter Games some male skater will attempt a Quintuple jump in competition. That seems to be the natural evolution.)

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Read this week: Harlan Ellison‘s classic SF story, “‘Repent Harlequin!’ Said the Ticktockman” (reprinted in Masterpieces: The Best Science Fiction of the Century). Orson Scott Card’s introductory note calls the story “a Kafkaesque parable about the dangers of individuality in a conformist society”. I didn’t read it that way; I saw the story as a cautionary tale about the futility of attempting to create a society where everything is controlled and where nothing is left to any kind of chance. The story’s ending suggests to me that although the society’s apparent cause for concern has been eliminated, a seed of sorts has been planted. A crack has been formed in the edifice of the story’s world; now all that remains to happen is for water to get in there, freeze, and melt; water, freeze and melt; water, freeze and melt….

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What to do with the gaping hole left in lower Manhattan following the 9-11 attacks has been a vigorous discussion since the initial shock wore off. Some have suggested rebuilding the towers, only this time adding height so they are again the tallest buildings in the world; some have suggested shorter towers; Roger Ebert suggested turning the whole site into green space with trees and grass and places for quiet contemplation. Just about everyone agrees that there needs to be some kind of monument to those lost on that horrible day. One particularly unique suggestion for a monument can be found here. It is two long piers that would be built out into New York Harbor; each would be the exact length of one of the towers, separated into sections demarking the corresponding floors, and the whole thing would bear the names of those who died. What I want to know is: would this design somehow inhibit boat traffic in New York Harbor? Sixteen hundred feet is a lot of pier.

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