You Wouldn?t Like Him When He?s Angry
Now Playing: 24 (season finale spoilers ahead)
How many of you heard Joe Harnell’s INCREDIBLE HULK theme tinkling in your brain at the end of last night’s season finale of 24? The thrilling fourth season closed with intrepid agent Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland) enduring another 24-hour period of murder, torture, intrigue, political maneuvering, life-or-death decisions and lots of Ford SUVs. The very end of the show found Jack walking alone into the sunrise, wearing Bill Bixby’s sunglasses and toting a bag over his shoulder, both a fugitive from justice and a dead man. Well, legally dead anyway, after his pals at CTU helped him fake his death to avoid being murdered by a Secret Service agent ordered to prevent Jack from being taken into custody by Chinese nationals who accuse him of breaking into their embassy and kidnapping one of their citizens (which Jack actually did, but that’s neither here nor there…). Cheez, you’d think the U.S. government would be more grateful to their most dedicated agent, considering how often he’s saved their asses in the last four seasons.

It will be interesting to see where 24 goes from here. I just wish I didn’t have to wait eight months to find out. 24 is a horrible addiction, the most consistently suspenseful dramatic series I’ve ever seen on television, a 24-hour thrill ride that, by its very nature, barely gives you time to breathe. Actually, those moments when you did get that chance were handled surprisingly well this year. Normally, the all-too-rare quiet moments on the series come across as forced and clunky, but most of them this year were played by 24’s star-crossed lovers, businesslike boss Michelle Dressler (Reiko Aylesworth) and ex-husband Tony Almeida (Carlos Bernard). I particularly loved Bernard this year, as he quickly redeemed himself, rising in a single day from alcoholic ex-con traitor living with a teenage barkeep to loyal, trustworthy sidekick, contributing mightily to preventing national disaster and winning back the heart of Michelle in the process.

Perhaps next year will find Jack on the run from Chinese and American assassins. Maybe he and President Palmer (Dennis Haysbert) will open up a private detective agency in Tijuana. Nah, Haysbert has a new show premiering in the fall. Hmmm. At any rate, I certainly hope that treacherous tart Mandy makes a return to Bauer’s life. The wicked assassin, dubbed “Naked Mandy” by fans because of her delicious habit of taking her clothes off on-camera and portrayed by the delectable Mia Kirshner (NOT ANOTHER TEEN MOVIE) in a short skirt and a ferocious pair of stripper boots, received a presidential pardon in the finale for all crimes past and present, including her assassination attempt on Palmer (boy, I bet that burned his britches), so I presume she’s out there somewhere, waiting to get hired by a new set of terrorists insistent on wiping out a passel of innocent Amurkens.

Between socializing and network television, I really have not watched many films lately. I did manage to catch a Canadian classic over the weekend, the chilling battle between man and rat. You heard me. And not a giant rat either, or even a wild pack of rats. Just one man and one rat fighting over the same turf: the restored brownstone owned by an attorney named Bart (Peter Weller). In OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN, Bart hopes to use the peace and quiet created by his wife and son’s vacation to whip together an important transaction for his boss at the firm and earn himself a monster promotion. Instead of peace, Bart discovers only obsession as a ferocious rat begins systematically destroying the house. Over the course of 85 minutes, the cool, collected attorney turns into Gene Hackman in THE CONVERSATION, gutting the damn place in his quest to stomp a mudhole in that rat’s ass. Directed by George Pan Cosmatos (RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II) and featuring the film debut of PLAYBOY Playmate and future Cinemax queen Shannon Tweed (who does indeed appear nude under the opening titles), OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN is better than you’d guess from the premise, delivering a marvelously thoughtful performance by Weller and a few genuinely creepy scares. It was filmed in Montreal, which substitutes nicely for Manhattan.

I also managed to check out on DVD THE LAST SHOT, which fitfully performed in a handful of theaters last fall. I’m not sure why Disney handled this $70 million comedy’s theatrical chances so poorly, although it isn’t likely to have been a big hit anyway. Not that it isn’t entertaining--it is, mostly--but films about filmmaking have historically not been big moneymakers, and without any major stars, THE LAST SHOT’s box-office potential likely wasn’t there. Written and directed by Jeff Nathanson, who penned Steven Spielberg’s hit CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, THE LAST SHOT is a truth-is-stranger-than-fiction tale of an FBI agent (Alec Baldwin) who concocts a sting operation to capture corrupt Teamsters redhanded by luring them into a film production. Since the FBI doesn’t make movies, Baldwin convinces a has-been director (Matthew Broderick) that he’s a producer and wants to make Broderick’s screenplay--ARIZONA, about a cancer-stricken woman’s trek through the deserts--on location…in Rhode Island…with a Providence landfill subbing for the Arizona desert. Broderick is as fooled by Baldwin’s blather as the mobster (Tony Shalhoub) being lured in, which leads to some real friction when Baldwin actually befriends the naive director and regrets pulling the wool over his eyes. Some of Nathanson’s material is funny stuff, particularly the dialogue and Joan Cusack’s hilariously profane cameo as a ballbusting producer (“You wanna eat lunch off of my ass? I thought you were kosher.”). Baldwin is a very good comic actor who doesn’t get a chance to demonstrate it as much as he should. Toni Collette (THE SIXTH SENSE) is terrific as a high-maintenance leading lady, while Buck Henry (Uncle Roy!), Tim Blake Nelson, Ray Liotta, Calista Flockhart, James Rebhorn and Glenn Morshower (also in the 24 finale) provide strong support. As does an unbilled Eric Roberts, bravely being a good sport and allowing himself to be mocked doing what Eric Roberts does best.