So the Emmy nominations came out yesterday, and I don’t want to brag, but I must say I was gratified to see that the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences agreed with me, at least 83% of the time. Behold the nominees:

DRAMA SERIES
“Boardwalk Empire” (HBO) 
“Breaking Bad” (AMC)
“Downton Abbey” (PBS)
“Game of Thrones” (HBO)
“Homeland” (Showtime) Haven’t watched it
“Mad Men” (AMC)

Also, 16 of the 24 acting nominations in the drama category are from the five checked shows above. That’s pretty snappy, I’ll tell ya. Go Joan Holloway, go Jesse Pinkman.

I’ll also mention the miniseries category, which includes nominations for “Hatfields & McCoys,” “American Horror Story,” and “Game Change,” all of which I have seen and enjoyed.

Why did I not list any comedy series today? Because I don’t watch sitcoms. Why? Because…I don’t know. Please don’t think me a humorless numpty; I just clammah for the drammah.

Banner year for Finkertainment, that’s what I say.

All right, fiends. Time to do some serious bill paying. Happy payday! 

RtB fiend Will posted a link on my Facebook wall last night: the trailer for the new Tim Burton/Johnny Depp movie, Dark Shadows. Um…it’s a comedy, people. WHAT?? Talk about a wholesale paradigm shift. Here are my initial reactions:

First — awesome trailer. All serious and dark, then…Curtis Mayfield’s “Super Fly.” HAaAAaAaaaa

Second — it kind of comes off as somewhat Twilight-ish. I don’t know how I feel about that yet.

Third — There’s that familiar Depp puzzled-and-grossed-out look again. Five times, at least, in the trailer. I swear he applies it to every comedic role. Does it work for you?

Fourth — Admit it. At several points, he’s channeling Edward Scissorhands. Maybe it’s the same makeup people.

Fifth — Perhaps the initial premise of Dark Shadows was something Burton felt he couldn’t take seriously, given the tidal wave of negative backlash to the Twilight films (honestly, get over it, right? It’s a movie series, fuh cripesake. Don’t like it? Don’t watch it.). It’s definitely a smart-aleck parody.

Sixth — This is another movie in which Depp is not pretty. No likey.

At first, I was truthfully a bit peeved. The thought immediately popped into my head, “He’s trashed the premise; ruined it.” Where was the creepy music, the alternating sadness and madness in Barnabas’s demeanor, the mists and secrecy and quiet, tortured dignity? The dysfunction of the Collins family appears in garish, cartoony overdo. What am I to make of this? Then, as I watched it again, I figured this might be a case of just taking something for what it is: a director’s wacky, quirky individual interpretation of a “classic” tale. He’s done it before. It’s who he is.

Regardless, I’m so seeing it.

Cripes, is it Finkday yet? Why yes, I believe it is.

So I’m taking a break from choreography this morning (one number down, 17752346 to go) to read today’s news. Came across some Oscar talk, and found the best quote of the day.

In an article rating Oscar show hosts from worst to best, #57 (out of 59) was the horrible quartet of Walter Matthau, Liza Minnelli, Dudley Moore and Richard Pryor, who tag-teamed as hosts in 1983. Of their muck-up, producer Buz Kohan said:

I had written the opening number, called ‘It All Comes Down to This.’ They were all scared stiff, but ordinarily if you’re scared, then you put in the time and rehearse. They took the opposite approach. So Liza was forced to carry the number, Walter was singing in his own zone somewhere, Dudley was just trying to walk down these steps without falling, and Richard Pryor, well, I think they told him the next day that he was there.”

HA

And of course, I’ve been saying this for years. Nothing new under the sun.

So are you watching the Oscars tonight? I’m sure our pal Will is, Academy hound that he be. If I can stay awake for the whole thing, I’d like to see Hugo and Midnight in Paris do well, but I don’t hold out much hope, when they’re pitted against anything with George Clooney or Steven Spielberg attached. I dunno…maybe Woody Allen and Martin Scorsese will get lucky again after all.

My weekend was busy, but great — filled with work, Downton Abbey, the Js, and an upcoming new post on The Comfort Foodie. Can’t believe Monday’s upon us again. Rats……….

You know, horror stories on television ain’t what they used to be. You could pretty much depend on scary TV shows to be a bit watery; slightly sterilized and toned down.

Not this one, Jim.

From the creepy theme music to the truly scary, jump-out-and-blast-ya scenes (as well as more flesh and jiggle content than you’ve ever seen on basic network TV), American Horror Story (Wednesdays at 10 p.m. Eastern on FX) is just that: a horror story. And it’s frightening.

When the theme music comes on, I have to cover my ears and go “la, la la la laaaaaaa.” Why do I watch these things? What is it about our nature that makes us dare to be horrified? I remember doing the same hands-over-the-ears thing when the theme music to the old Dark Shadows played. When I watch them on Netflix nowadays, I fast-forward through the opening theme. Yet, I can’t stop watching.

Last night I watched American Horror with the Thriller, and dangit if I wasn’t petrified to go upstairs by myself. Ridiculous! I’ve always known that my empathy response was on overdrive; I put myself in countless situations right along with the actors. Internalizing this stuff ain’t healthy, lemmetellya. But I still watch. Why? I stop just short of making the Thriller sit by the bedside until I fall asleep. What a nutjob. (Me, not him.)

Heh. Boo!

PS – HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAVIS!

You know, time was, you couldn’t find a nighttime soap on television. When I was growing up (60s & 70s), evening TV watching was made up mostly of shows with stand-alone episodes. Bonanza, Perry Mason, Marcus Welby, MD, Happy Days, Barney Miller, M*A*S*H and the like were programs you could miss for weeks at a time and never lose your place in their stories.

That all changed in 1978, when Dallas premiered, and producers — to their utter delight — realized that people could actually remember episode details from week to week, as opposed to the day-to-day schedule of normal daytime soap operas. Moreover, Dallas appealed to men, whereas the daytime half-hour soaps (broadcast, of course, during children’s nap times) were geared almost exclusively to women who stayed home. So began the era of evening serial television. Now, you can’t throw a rock without hitting one.

I must admit, I do love it so. Whoever did the demographic research on the subject knew that these types of stories tap into our most basal desires to share emotional experiences with those on the screen, and to run the gamut of reactions: disgust, anger, dread, sorrow, and most fun of all: shock. They want us to take sides, and boy, do we ever not disappoint on that score. And when the season finales rolled around, it was no holds barred. Beginning with the granddaddy of them all (“Who Shot J.R.?”), they’ve tried to outdo one another for decades.

Such was the case with the season finale of Breaking Bad last Sunday night. World: rocked. If you’re looking for an awesome series to sink your teeth into, this would be the one. What happens when a soft-spoken high school chemistry teacher finds out he has cancer, and to provide for his family after his death, decides to become a ruthless meth cook and assassin? You can catch up on the first four seasons on Netflix, or on various illicit (free) places on the web. Sadly, there’s only one season left.

But hey, you could always watch Dallas. TNT is even bringing it back! I wonder how old die-hards like Yours Truly will like the new casts and storylines. I’ma give it a try, though.

Hey, it’s Tunesday. Blah.

FO