Savoring the Silliness of 305 and Superhero Movie

One thing I’ve learned working as a pop culture critic over the years is that some things just really are not designed to be seriously criticized. Maybe it’s because my formative years consisted in overlapping parts of classic literature and Mad Magazine, fifties jazz and punk rock, Italian wines and cheap beer, TS Eliot and Lenny Bruce, Michelangelo and Jack Kirby, Richard Burton and Warren Oakes, Stanley Kubrick and Roger Corman and numerous other dichotomies. Or it could be all those scattergun reference points, scrambling for their private piece of brain-wrinkle real estate, finally settle for a time share arrangement. Once that happens, all those pop culture fragmented creatures, like it or not, take on personality fragments of their neighbors.

That’s why, when I think of Star Trek, the first thing I think of has nothing to do with the franchise itself—it’s a Mad satire of the series I read as a kid, and the only thing I remember of that is two word balloons. Spock says, “I can’t believe my ears,” to which Kirk replies, “I can’t believe your ears, either.” I cracked me up then, and it still does.

Along that same timeline, Marvel Comics introduced a new series called Not Brand Echh!, a spoof of their own characters, and a good-natured swipe at DC (who was Brand Echh in the Marvel PR of the time), as well. It was Mad for comic book geeks, especially Marvel geeks such as myself. The Mighty Thor was lampooned as the Mighty Sore, the Hulk was the Bulk, Superman was Stupor-Man, and in any given 8-pager, the characters invariably had billboard messages stamped on their shoe soles.

The point is, Mad and Not Brand Echh! were not satires—they were parodies. There’s a big difference. Satire points out foibles through sarcasm and wit. Parodies go for the cheap joke—they’re supposed to be stupid. Two movies released on DVD this week are parodies—stupid, puerile parodies full of inside jokes, sight gags and juvenile nudges. What makes them fodder for fanboy cliques is that they also step on their sacred cows of the moment, the Spider-Man franchise and the green screen epic 300.

305 is as much a sequel to 300 as it is parody—sorta. It began life as an humble video short on YouTube, and focused on five inept accountant types assigned to guard a goat path against the advancing Persians. Essentially, it was a what if the staffers of The Office were placed in ancient Sparta sort of affair. It became a major hit on YouTube, attracting more than 4 million viewers. What makes it important is that it is the first viral video to be made into a feature film.

The movie takes up after the events of 300, where we find that the five inadvertently caused the deaths of the 300 by leaving their post at the goat path to unsuccessfully join the main battle. The problem was, the goat path was the route by which the Persians entered. 305 expands on the premise of the original viral video, taking up a year later, and follows the exploits of the Five as they try to redeem themselves. Their path to redemption crashes through the fourth wall, ignoring all sense of history or timelines. Consider it a parody of The Office, if that show was set in Sparta. It’s a Mad magazine-style send-up of that sitcom, and a spoof of the over-praised 300, as well. If 305 has any pretensions at all, it’s that it was done in green screen, as was 300. The DVD’s special features even spoof the green screen process.

While 305 strives for the classic Mad spoof style, Superhero Movie takes its cues from Not Brand Echh!, combined with the now all too familiar touches you expect from the team that produced the Scary Movie and Naked Gun franchises. It’s taken a bit of heat in some quarters for—quote unquote—ripping off the Spider-Man movies. That’s a ludicrous criticism. Superhero Movie uses the origin of Spider-Man as a springboard to lampoon the entire superhero genre, in much the same way the Not Brand Echh! eight pagers did. There are references to the Fantastic Four, the X-Men and even Batman, none of which necessarily enhance the story. Nor were they meant to. They’re incidental gags, poking fun at the somber tones comics have taken of late. It’s all a slapstick farce, and to review it as anything more would be an exercise in pomposity.

Superhero Movie and 305 are unlikely to be remembered as comedy classics, at least not by this generation. They are what they are. Both films have a running time of just over an hour or so, more than ample time to scatter gun their way through plots that were never meant to be more than a launch pad for humor that never rises above a collegiate level. Both DVDs have an excess of bonus features to over- compensate for the actual movies’ lengths, including the requisite outtakes, deleted scenes and the obligatory alternate endings.

All that notwithstanding, these two movies offer something we don’t see that often these days. Yeah, they’re silly, stupid, frequently vulgar and puerile to a fault. But they remind us that not everything has to be art, or relevant, or socially conscious. In troubled times, we want nothing more than to step away for a moment, bundle up in our personal security blankets of incongruity. 305 and Superhero Movie are lineal descendants of The Three Stooges shorts of the Depression and WWII era. While they never sacrifice a sight gag for an attempt to make a meaningful statement, both movies have their moments when they inadvertently make a comment. Are they funny? That depends on your mood, or who’s watching the movie with you, or how you feel about fart gags or brawls amongst world leaders of peace.

But here’s the thing. If you don’t intellectualize Superhero Movie or 305, and if you don’t deify the source material, you’re going to find yourself chuckling in spite of yourself.

After all, they’re supposed to be stupid, stupid.

A Different Kind of Cop Show, Eh?

Life these days is stressful. It costs over a hundred dollars to fill the belly of that behemoth SUV, and that’s only going to let you run everyday errands for a week or so, and that’s if you consolidate lunches, meetings, shopping, grooming trips and just getting to work. Once you do get to work, you have to deal with office politics, and the gossip of who’s stabbing who to climb another flimsy rail up the corporate hierarchy. And to top it off, you have to worry if your cherished salsa and chips are going to end you up in the hospital with a case of salmonella. As if that weren’t enough, a retired senator/economist from Texas has the audacity to tell us, in perfect “I’m alright, Jack” style, we’re a nation of whiners.

We’re not whiners by any means—we’re stress junkies. We thrive on it, and when real life doesn’t feed us with enough tension, we’ll get a vicarious fix through the TV. Seeing those hopeless souls on game shows and reality series give us a momentary sense of smug superiority, just knowing we would have chosen the obvious “T”, and not the what kind-of-idiot-are-you “L.” In the comfort of our living rooms, we lord over all we survey, and pity the poor souls dripping in flop sweat on the screen.

Flashpoint (premiering on CBS Friday, 11 July, 10P EST, and on CTV—check your local listings) is all about stress, at least in the pilot episode. This Canadian import begins in the height of the conflict, as we see a really, really stressed out Croatian holding a gun to a woman’s head while a negotiator (Enrico Collantini) tries to talk him down, despite language barriers. Meanwhile, a police sniper is perched on a rooftop, coldly awaiting orders to neutralize the perp. It’s a brief moment that establishes the tone of the show. It cuts to a few hours earlier, when the day was just another day. The police sniper (Hugh Dillon) is a family guy, thinking he’s planning for a colleague’s retirement party, despite it conflicts with his wife’s fortieth wedding anniversary. The Croatian hostage taker began the day thinking he’ll reconcile with his estranged wife, despite a restraining order to the contrary.

It’s in the backstories that Flashpoint differs from the usual procedural cop show. It’s not the slam-bang take no prisoners action adventure to which American audiences are accustomed. There’s plenty of tension and stress in the pilot episode, but it’s tempered with an underlying sense of emotion. It achieves something very rare in television—it causes you to empathize with all the characters, rather than just dropping bodies to and fro.

As it stands now, Flashpoint is slated for a thirteen episode run. On CBS. But if the pilot is any indication, this is a series that should be picked up for the fall season. It’s a well-crafted show, full of irony mixed with action, served up in a balanced blend that’s more cinematic than episodic. It would be a shame to lose a show that illustrates how our day to day lives really aren’t that stressful, relatively speaking.

Flashpoint - The Summers Hottest New Series

The Spirits of Patriotism

All politics aside, it’s a pretty safe assumption that just about everybody in America supports our men and women in uniform. There’s a lot more to it than a yellow ribbon decal on the rear window of the family SUV, though. People throughout the country are coming up with creative ways to show their support, from every walk of life. And while I don’t usually equate patriotism with a trip to the liquor store, a new line of premium spirits offers an interesting take on ways to show support for the troops.

Newly launched in Pennsylvania, Brave Spirits is a line of 100% American-made premium spirits with lofty monickers: Valor Vodka, First In Whiskey, Standing Guard Gin and At Ease Rum. David Fox says he founded Brave Spirits on the principle “to honor, to remember and celebrate the men and women in uniform who protect and defend America everyday: firefighters, police officers, Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, Coast Guard and their families. Brave Spirits recognizes the dedication that these men and women constantly demonstrate to keep Americans safe. Every component of the Brave Spirits product line, from labels to ingredients to distilleries, is distinctly American-made. “

Everything about the Brave Spirits line bristles with a gung-ho sense of Americana, from the names of the spirits, to the distinctive bottles (which are vaguely reminiscent of wooden soldier silhouettes), to the company’s insistence that all of the liquors are 100% American-made. While I’m foursquare for buying American, I also have snobbish prejudices when it comes to spirits. I’m suspicious of gin that doesn’t come from England, or vodka that’s not imported, or rum not with a Caribbean pedigree, or bourbon whiskey not from Kentucky. So it was not without a bit of trepidation that I approached the Brave Spirits line I was pleasantly surprised—they’re not half bad.

I began my investigation with First In Whiskey. It’s a very smooth bourbon, easily taken neat or as base for highballs. It’s distilled and in Kentucky, and aged in American Oak barrels. Slightly sweet, and without the burn of many whiskeys, it’s a genteel spirit ideally suited for cocktail hour.

Drinking American whiskey is one thing—it’s part of our history. Vodka is another story, though—it didn’t become a fixture in American culture until the 1950’s, when it began to supplant gin as the base ingredient of cocktails. As a base for cocktails, Valor Vodka works better than say, a Gordon’s, or most of the lesser vodkas. Straight, it’s rather bland, lacking the kick of a premium vodka. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s refined from American grains, but it’s not up to snuff compared to truly premium vodkas from Scandinavia or Russia. It’s great as a mixer, though.

At Ease Rum, on the other hand, is surprisingly delightful. Rum goes back to America’s roots even more than whiskey, having its origins in the Caribbean in the 15th century. It’s not a stretch, then, to distill sugarcane grown in Florida and age the product in American oak barrels. At Ease is a light rum, and can be easily drank neat, or used as a base for summertime cocktails.

Finally, Standing Guard Gin reminds us that even in America, no man is an island. Juniper berries are not abundant in the States, so some had to be important, making the gin the only product in the line that’s not 100% American- produced. Nonetheless, it has a distinctly American air about it. Smooth neat, and perfect in the classic gin and tonic. It’s not bad as a martini base, either.

All in all, I’ll have to give the Brave Spirits line of liquors an A+ for dedication to their marketing concept, as hokey as their branding is. I have to wonder if the jingoism in their marketing will hurt them in the long run, since they’re targeting a very specific market.

I’ll give them an A- on their actual product, though. The dedication that Brave Spirits has in its mission is laudable, but it would mean precious little if the spirits didn’t deliver the goods. By and large, it does. I found all four of the spirits in the line to be smooth—perhaps a little too smooth, in some cases—but all in all, above average spirits well-suited for cocktail parties seeking a somewhat slightly higher level of style.

At a suggested retail of $20 per 750ml bottle, the Brave Spirits line is something of a bargain. Perhaps more importantly, “Brave Spirits believes in giving back to those who sacrifice for American freedom and the protection of others. For every bottle of Brave Spirits product purchased, $2.00 goes to the Brave Spirits Foundation, composed of retired members of America’s services, which collectively decides the proper charities and foundations to donate these proceeds to; that is the institutions that help men & women in uniform to stay safe, recover and celebrate with friends and family.”

I like the “giving back” concept, even though I’m inherently suspicious of nameless foundations. But if raising a glass of cheer to the people who protect us makes us a little more aware, I’m all for it.

Election Day Reminds Us Who We Are

If there’s one thing that makes America unique in the world, it’s the synergy that dives the country. We come from different places, we bring our native cultures with us, we settle into little neighborhoods, we bicker among ourselves and bemoan the larger powers that be—at least until we become a part of those larger powers that be.

It’s of note that America has survived for well over 200 years, with the same Constitution it’s always had, amended here and there to clear up ambiguities and oversights, but for all intents, the same document that’s always guided us. And we’ve guided it, through the power of our vote.

Election Day, part of the PBS series P.O.V, debuts 1 July (10P, EST—check your local listings) looks at the current state of the election process. Actually, it focuses on the 2 November 2004 election day from eleven different points of view.

Election Day works on a number of levels, but it ultimately succeeds as an engrossing and oddly entertaining moment in American history. That’s not to imply that it looks at the 2004 election as a farce, or that it takes any partisan side. It’s not about Bush versus Kerry—in fact, neither of them rate more than a scarce mention, and that only as side notes in the frenetic pacing of the documentary. It’s not even about politics, at least not in the way it’s usually covered in film. Election Day instead focuses on the real power, that being the citizenry of America, that make this democracy work.

After the debacle that was the 2000 election, director Katy Chevigny set out to make a film that focused not on the political wranglings that make the mainstream news, but rather on the more intimate concerns of the American public. To that end, she organized film crews in eleven cities, each representing a unique mindset that nonetheless resonates with the collective concerns of Americans today. From Chicago, where a Republican poll-watcher rails against the Democrat machine there, to New York, where a fifty-year old ex-con gets to vote for the first time in his life, to Florida and Ohio, where volunteers keep a vigilant eye on the vote, to South Dakota, where Native Americans are urged to cast their vote, to rural Minnesota where every vote is considered important—Election Day is a tapestry of snapshots from across America, united by the fundamental belief that each and every vote is important.

Election Day, largely because of its rapid cutting from one locale to another, is more thriller than documentary. There are no requisite talking heads interviews, no journalist commentaries, no slant left or right. There are only people, in their individual ways, doing their part to make sure that America stands as a democracy. It’s an inspiring tale that illustrates that Americans are more vigilant about the process than they’re often given credit for. That it premieres just prior to Independence Day makes it all the more poignant. It gives hope that the contentious nature of Americans ensures that the country is just getting its second wind.

P.O.V. | Election Day by Katy Chevigny | PBS

An Unfocused Imagination

Defining art isn’t easy—it’s like pornography in that you know it when you see it, or hear it, or experience it, as the case may be. I’ll be the first to fess up to the core fact that I don’t always know what art is, since the term is thrown around like discarded tissue. I knew an “artist” in the eighties who actually said if he puked on the sidewalk, and called it art, then it was art, since he, as the artist, defines art. Truth is, puking on a sidewalk, no matter how you rationalize it, is not art. It’s puke on a sidewalk.

The problem with artists defining art is it turns the entire process into an opaque little box of self-congratulation, where like-minded sycophants convince themselves that everybody else just isn’t hip enough to understand that sidewalk barf is art because the artist said so.

The indie film Imagination doesn’t take its pretensions that far, but it does take itself very seriously as “art.” And therein lays its fatal flaw. Ostensibly, Imagination is a film about the varying perceptions of reality—a favorite subject for philosophers, quantum physicists and stoners alike. Co-written by brothers Eric and Jeffrey Leiser, Imagination is the story of twin sisters, one autistic, or actually suffering from Azperger’s Syndrome, and the other, legally blind, fated to be totally blind at some indeterminate point. Being twins, though, they of course share a telepathic bond and a form of communication known only to them. What their parents don’t see is that their daughters are linked by the power of imagination, which in no small part leads to the dissolution of the family—the father runs away, retreating to the local speakeasys, and the mother is killed while driving on the freeway during a conveniently timed earthquake. The twins, effectively orphaned, are taken in by the kindly psychotherapist at his institution, where things take an “unexpected”, if telegraphed, turn.

To say the story is thin is being charitable—the basic premise of linked twins has been done many times before, and usually better, most recently in the indie production Brothers of the Head. The acting here doesn’t fare any better, either—the performers walk through their lines bereft of any semblance of emotion, disconnected from the characters they are supposed to portray. Even though the script doesn’t offer the actors many opportunities to emote, and the direction in the live sequences is reminiscent of a 1950’s educational film, the cast, admittedly mostly first-timers merely recite their lines.

The story in Imagination, though, is an incidental anecdote to showcase Eric’s animation skills and Jeffrey’s music composition talents. In those regards, the brothers show a great deal of promise. It’s in the animation sequences that Imagination shines, even though it’s heavily influenced by the work of Czech surrealist Jan Svankmajer. The music backdrop shows traces of Philip Glass, but with a bit more meat to it. It’s here that the brothers work seamlessly together, and come close to achieving the avant garde piece they sought out to make.

The problem with Imagination is that the elements of storyline and surreal animation never quite gel. The result is jarring—on the one hand is a terribly played live action drama, and on the other, a lyrical bit of animation illustrated by a haunting score. As much as the brothers Leiser would like us to accept Imagination as an enigmatic piece of art, it emerges more as an animation portfolio. That being said, the brothers Leiser may well be players in the future of cinema. Once they get over their art for art’s sake fixation, they may make a cohesive film.

Imagination is a nice try, but doesn't quite make it.

Traces of the Trade: Examining an Uncomfortable Past

2008 marks the bicentennial of the United States’ abolition of the slave trade on its shores. That’s a landmark event in the nation’s history, and yet, it’s been largely overlooked. Maybe it’s because we like to pat ourselves on the back about the quantum leaps we’ve made in the two centuries since, or perhaps it’s because old wounds leave ugly scars best left unmentioned in polite conversation. It’s more likely a combination of the two, made all the more muddled by mythologies on all sides regarding the evolution of race relations in the United States.

Traces of the Trade, the season opener of the PBS acclaimed documentary series P.O.V., looks at some of these issues from a uniquely personal perspective. First-time filmmaker Katrina Browne, discovers that her privileged life is linked to her lineal ancestors’ business in the slave trade. In fact, her Rhode Island ancestors, the DeWolfs, were the largest slave-trading family in United States history.

The news is something of a shock to Browne, considering the DeWolf name is revered in the family’s hometown of Bristol, Rhode Island. The family has a prominent place in history, with a lineage of professors, philanthropists, legislators, Episcopal priests and bishops. Slave trade was hinted at in the family annals, brushed off as poor relations in the family.

As she looks deeper into the family’s slave-trading roots, and learns more, she embarks on a journey with other DeWolf descendents, to retrace the routes of the infamous Triangle Trade—from Ghana, where the slaves were bought to the family’s sugar plantation in Cuba, where the slaves labored in the sugar fields, to make it into rum, to Rhode Island, where the product was sold, and the cycle began anew.

While Traces of the Trade falters in parts, veering dangerously from objective history into moments of white guilt and overly intellectual rationalization, it manages to point out that the history of race relations in America has been drastically altered over the generations. In so doing, it points out many of the myths of our history. In the end, we find that it wasn’t a matter of North versus South. It was more a matter of regional economic interests, wherein everybody was more complicit than textbook history suggests. There are wounds in our history that need to be healed, and the most expedient way to do that is to accept that history, as we were taught it, has some serious flaws.

As much as it drips of white guilt, and as much as it focuses on one family’s attempt at forgiveness for the sins of the fathers, Traces of the Trade: A Story of the Deep North forces us to look at look at our sometimes unsavory past.

Traces of the Trade, part of the PBS series P.O.V., premieres on PBS Tuesday, 24 June, at 10P EST. Check your local listings, of course, but make it a point to view it.

P.O.V. | Traces of the Trade | PBS

The Coming Convergence of Media

It’s another hot and muggy June night, and I’ve been working all day, dealing with what I’ll politely call “the public.” I get home, thumb through my mail, and discard the three no interest for six months credit card offers and the 75% discount magazine subscriptions, save the various bills, filing them in my mental rolodex with the idea I’ll pay them immediately, knowing I’ll wait for the “friendly reminder”, at which point I’ll overpay 20 cents, just to screw up their automated bookkeeping. After all, the most miniscule protests are the ones that fuel revolutions.

Anyway, it’s been a rough day, and all I want to do is kick back with a glass of red wine and the soothing tones of the television. Don’t misunderstand—I don’t want to be sedated by “unscripted” shows that feign reality by placing misfits together in a controlled environment, or so-called game shows that offer the promise of millions if the contestants make a lucky guess, or even formulaic sitcoms still retreading premises that were already shopworn by the early seventies. Even the news programs seem like they’re in reruns.

No—I need something else on nights like these, something to remind why I loved TV in the first place, why I rushed home from college classes so as not to miss the early anime Starblazers {known in Japan as Spaceship Yakamoto), why I fortified myself with copious amounts of caffeine to see those episodes of The Prisoner (which never aired before 3AM), why I left work early to make sure I didn’t miss an episode of 24, why I shuffled my schedule to recap Dexter.

Nights like these also remind me why broadband Internet is a wonderful invention (does anybody even remember dial-up?), and why I watch more and more TV on my computer. It’s not that it’s edging out TV As We Know It, but it is adding much-needed flavor to a broadcast soup that’s gone stale. Go to any of the Big Four’s websites—CBS, NBC, ABC, or FOX—and the homepage is decidedly more splashy than it was this time last year. They offer full episodes of their more popular series (as well as their struggling ones), and pepper their site with trivia, games and sundry items to entice viewers to watch their network, which, after all, is the most cutting edge of the four.

What it really means, though, is the Internet is making the traditional networks increasingly uncomfortable. As much as they like to say New Media is an unknown commodity (which was a large basis for the Writers’ Strike), they’re furiously circling their wagons for the invasion of a new way of watching TV. That new way is still climbing out of the primordial ooze, but it’s already evolved legs. And it’s learning, adapting the better TV of the past as it learns, inexorably carving a niche for itself in the evolutionary food chain. YouTube was arguably the first Internet network to capitalize on the cyberspace factor, and it remains entrenched in the Zeitgeist as the eminent force of New Media.

I certainly don’t want to diss YouTube. But its “citizen journalism” approach is sort of like a scattergun. There’s a lot of great content there, and it undeniably is a major force in our culture, influencing politics, entertainment, and even legal proceedings. It allows almost anyone to be a star, if even for the proverbial fifteen minutes. On the downside, it’s often a breeding ground for would-be paparazzi and tabloid gossip. All in all, though, it’s the perfect medium for our short attention span society. Whether a broadcast genius emerges from YouTube doesn’t matter. That it provides a possible platform from which that genus may rise is what makes YouTube important.

At the other end of the spectrum are sites like Hulu, which was gobbled up by Universal (NBC) and News Corporation (FOX) by the time it uttered its first cry. As such, it’s already become a promotional wing of the two behemoths, mirroring the content of the two parent sites, right down to full episodes being viewed “with limited commercial interruptions.” What bothers me most about Hulu at this point is that it’s full of promise, but it’s mostly a tease. You get full episodes of shows like Heroes and Arrested Development, but only enough to whet your appetite—they’re in random context, supplanted by clips. There’s a very small library of full-length movies, but there again, the movie collection consists mostly of promo clips. Hulu has potential, but right now, it exists as a marketing tool for NBC and FOX.

Somewhere between the two extremes of corporate self-promotion and citizen journalism are sites like Joost, bridging the chasm between Old and New Media. As I mentioned in an earlier article, Joost is a commercial venture, and it has inked deals with CBS, Sony, and Warner (among others) for content. A major difference, though, is that Joost shows its content with “limited commercial interruptions.” Sure, you occasionally get a little pop-up ad in the corner of the screen, but that’s not nearly as annoying as full-fledged commercials. In fact, I’d say the content far outweighs the minor annoyances.

Since I last wrote about the site, not even a month ago, Joost has added some impressive content, certainly not the least of which is the entire series of David Lynch’s cult classic Twin Peaks. The bizarre murder mystery serial was nothing short of a national phenomenon in the very early nineties, and it’s still ahead of its time, nearly eighteen years after it was cancelled. If you’ve never seen it, you’ll find yourself addicted to it. If you remember it, you’ll remember why America wanted to know “Who Killed Laura Palmer?” Unlike other mysteries, where clues unravel the mystery, each episode of Twin Peaks complicated the mystery even more.

As cool as it is that current viewers don’t have to wait an entire week to see what twists the next episode will bring, Twin Peaks isn’t the only retro series Joost has to offer. You can also, if you’re really a cultist, watch the entire run of Beverly Hills 90210, or view choice episodes of the highly stylized animated adventure Samurai Jack. In fact, you can a lot of TV here. More importantly, though, is that Joost offers European content, short indie films, global news, and music videos you won’t find on—say, MTV (as if you’re ever going to see videos on MTV these days.)

With the exception of YouTube—where anything goes—Internet television is wrestling with its own potential. At this point, it’s serving more as a promotional tool for the networks and studios. The networks are even airing original series on their websites, some of which are actually pretty good. While none of these series have actually made the television cut, it’s easy to imagine a time in the not too distant future when that may be how series are test marketed. It’s also not too difficult to see how the Internet, through actual viewing, and not silly save-the-show campaigns, might turn Nielsen on its ear, and set a new model for programming.

The Internet has already usurped the power of the once impenetrable fortresses of the studios. The upcoming 305, a Mad magazine send-up of 300 had its origins on YouTube, and is now the first viral video to be slated for a major studio production. Traditional television can’t be far behind, especially since it has a history of taking its cues from the movies. Now they’re faced with a new challenge—with the wealth of original programming on the Internet, anybody with any concept could be The Next Big Thing.

And that is going to force a rethinking of how business is done in La-La Land. It’s not that television is going to be swallowed up by the Internet. What will happen is that the Internet, with all its faceless minions, will become a major player in how the networks shape their programming. The computer and the television will meld into one entity, and it will be so painless, we won’t even realize it.

Let’s hope we don’t screw it up this time.