Stan, Ollie and Carlos

The footage is a delightful interlude from Way Out West. The soundtrack reinvents the sequence nicely.

B.W. At The Movies: Know1ng

To me the wheels started coming off Know1ng when Nicolas Cage's character stalks a young woman and introduces himself under false pretenses. He could have called her up and explained that he was an MIT professor with some questions about her mother, and that would have avoided some awkward moments later. But no, he has to present himself under circumstances that would convince any normal woman she needs to get herself and her daughter away from this psycho.

If that was the only hole in this film's plot, however, it might have been forgiven. If only.

Cage's character's wife died a year earlier; his bitterness leaves him talking about how life on Earth is either predetermined or a series of fantastic, chaotic coincidences — and he chooses to believe in chaos. The movie turns out to be about how he finds out the truth.

I will say no more. The only value in seeing this movie is to be surprised by its journey away from its promising premise — a strange little girl in 1959 produces a series of numbers that correctly predicts major disasters over the next 50 years, and the last three are yet to come — and into a, well, into what it becomes.

OK, I have one observation that may spoil the surprise for those intrigued enough to spend two valuable hours of their lives watching Know1ng: In some ways this movie's finale reminded me of James Cameron's marvelous film The Abyss, which I consider the man's true masterpiece. (I gagged on a titanic spoon enduring his more famous water movie.) The main difference is that The Abyss is a really good movie.

Greetings from 1966

I am standing in the cashier's line at a discount store. There is a new Beach Boys album in what today we think of as the impulse-buy rack. I'm excited — if the album contains that wild new song I'm hearing on the radio these days, I will gladly slam that thing down on the counter and pay the $2.74 for this thing.

But I'm disappointed. Sure, the album has "Sloop John B" and "Wouldn't It Be Nice" from last spring and summer, but there's no sign of "Good Vibrations." And the cover photo, of the band feeding a bunch of animals at a petting zoo, is pretty lame. No sale today.

I love the new song, but I haven't been a hard-core Beach Boys fan before this. They're my older brother's band. Maybe someday I'll buy this one, but it's not going to be high on my priority list unless they have a string of tunes like "Good Vibrations." It never occurs to me that it might be 35 years before I actually purchase and hear this album in its entirety and recognize how cool it is. My next album purchase will instead be "The Monkees." Not that there's anything wrong with that!

It occurred to me the other day that each and every one of us is a time machine, carrying sights and sounds and smells and tastes of a long-ago time on the biological hard drives that are our brains. From time to time we access that drive and do our best to communicate what it is we see, hear and smell in our storage device. That communication gap is the main problem: I can't just upload my first encounter with "Pet Sounds" to YouTube. But it remains one of those watershed moments nonetheless.

Meanwhile, in Washington and state capitols everywhere ...

"Quick! While the world is distracted by Michael Jackson ... pass that bill, raise that tax, strip those liberties — they won't notice until it's too late!"

How many egregious laws will be traced to legislative action of June 26, 2009? I bet lots.

Let's get several things straight

1. Pitchers should take their turn at bat.

2. The only time an American League team plays a National League team should be in the World Series.

3. Hank Aaron is the all-time home run king. Roger Maris is the single-season home run king. Records "earned" by mutants injected with bovine growth hormone should be expunged from the books.

And one more thing ...

B.W. At The Movies: Star Trek

Oh, and another thing: In the dreadful X-Men Origins: Wolverine, there's a scene at the climax where a group of about three or four dozen mutants is confronted by one big bad guy. Our hero says, "You get the others to safety, I'll handle this." I turned to Sweetie and asked, "Why don't they all just gang up on the lone bad guy and whup his butt?" I had already decided it was a lame movie by that point, but that moment tipped it over into the "crummy and disappointing" category.

I mention this because I have no doubt there are plot holes in Star Trek, but when the movie is so darn fun, who notices stuff like that? Let's throw every sports cliché at this thing: Director J.J. Abrams hits a home run, throws a touchdown, drops nothing but net from downtown, and scooooorrrrrrrrrrrrres!!!!

We spent about 30 seconds looking at Zachary Quinto and saying, "Man, it's hard to forget he's Sylar (in Heroes)," but then Sylar disappeared and Quinto became Spock for the 21st century. Lest we forget, here comes the Spock of the 20th century to deliver crucial plot points. The new James Tiberius Kirk, Chris Pine, is a swaggering punk who could have used a strong father figure to shape him up a bit (Sweetie spotted Cameron from House as Kirk's mom before I did!) but figures himself out as the show races along, and Karl Urban, the new McCoy, is a cantankerous but caring fussbudget. What else could he be? This is classic Trek, and then it's not — basically a perfect combination of acknowledging what came before and setting off in a bold new direction. There are plenty of echoes from the original series and the first six Trek movies, but plenty of touches that scream "This is not a retread, this is a reinvention."

Since Raiders of the Lost Ark set the bar for adventure thrillers in 1982, no other film has been quite as fun, quite as thrilling, and quite as character-driven while providing quite the ride. Until now.

By what no doubt is not a coincidence, Sci-Fi was showing the series finale of Star Trek: The Next Generation when we got home Thursday night. It was an interesting comparison. "All Good Things" is full of technobabble, its pacing is clunky, and after a seven-year voyage with characters who came to be beloved, it kind of limped home. Maybe that's the difference between episode 1 and episode 176, but let me tell you, the Abrams version is a full-blown sprint.

Sweetie, who is not a lifelong Trekkie, asked as the credits rolled if they'd ever consider bringing this new crew back as a television show. James T. Kirk and company as weekly fare? It's a great idea again. It won't happen — but that's how great this film is: You want to see more. As soon as possible.

Geek national holiday

A pair of tickets sits above my computer for 7 p.m. Thursday. I was surprised to see advance tickets on sale not for a 12:01 a.m. showing but for the evening before. But I'm not complaining.

The best description of the opening of Star Trek I've seen was in the Arizona Republic, which in its summer movie preview called May 8 a "geek national holiday." I am not quite as psyched as I was in the days before Serenity debuted, but I confess to being anticipatory.

I was there, in front of the family TV set, at 8:30 p.m. Thursday, Sept. 8, 1966. I loved space movies, and NBC was launching a new science-fiction show that its creator called "Wagon Train to the stars." By the end of "Man-Trap," I was sold and never looked back. I have developed some philosophical objections over the years, but I still love these characters and am looking forward to seeing them reinvented with a new set of actors.

I am not a geek or a Trekkie in the sense that I'll show up in Vulcan ears or a Starfleet uniform. But I'll be there with my mind wide open, ready and willing to be blown away.

And for old time's sake:
Best TOS episode - "The City on the Edge of Forever," of course.
Best TNG: "The Inner Light."
Best DS9: "The Visitor."
Best Voyager or Enterprise: Sorry, I don't care as much.
Best Trek spinoff series: Deep Space Nine.
Best Trek movie: Galaxy Quest, er, Wrath of Khan or First Contact.
Kirk or Spock: Spock.
Ginger or Mary Ann: Beverly Crusher.

B.W. At The Movies: X-Men Origins - Wolverine

It has a few nice moments. Otherwise pretty standard fare. This is one I could have waited for the DVD. Sorry fellow X-fans.

I confess I've never been psyched over Wolverine. I was one of the minority who got into the original run of the X-Men, which was the first second of the Stan Lee era Marvel hero books to be canceled. (The first was The Incredible Hulk.) The team was Marvel's Star Trek, very cool stuff that eventually found its greatest success in a reimagined "next generation" form featuring Wolverine and friends. X-Men was the first comic book collection that I completed: Issues 1-66. But I digress.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine has a decent enough story. I felt like I should care more all the way through. But I didn't. It was more like the moment I found X-Men 25 and the collection was complete: Well, that's over. I'm glad I went, but what was the point?

The film has some nice moments, not the least of which was the surprise appearance of — well, a familiar X-person toward the end. But that moment served to remind me of the first three X-Men movies, which were darn good and launched a new comic-book movie era. And this movie is nowhere near as compelling as those films. Seeing this character for a few fleeting seconds was a reminder of what this puppy could have been.

You want to see the best comic-book movies over and over. X-Men Origins: Wolverine is not one of those. If they're going to do X-prequels, they would have been better served to compact this story into the first 15-20 minutes and followed that cameo character's helicopter for the next 90.

Random thoughts while frying the brain on TV

+ It is simply amazing, once you start looking for it, how many times advertisers and politicans appeal to our fears in the course of a day. Spend an hour with the glowing idiot box, and you'll be afraid of swine flu, terrorists, our government itself, various ailments of the mind and body, and - with all of the potential side effects - of taking any pill at all.

It's also amazing, once you're on to the game, how easy it is to laugh at it all. While fast-forwarding through the ads, I've come (to Sweetie amusement, I hope) of grabbing an ad at random and intoning, for example, "Ask your doctor if the Cadillac Enclave is right for you."

+ I am again amazed at the mind of Joss Whedon and his ability to bring a story to life. It took a few weeks for Dollhouse to capture my fancy, but - surprise, surprise - it has become one of the most compelling programs on television. And that was who I thought it was in the previews for this Friday, wasn't it?

+ Am I the only one who thinks sick thoughts during the "five-dollar footlong" commercials, or am I the only one who's not sure it's an intentional double entendre?

'If we're not being controlled, we'll just do what we want.' And your point is ...?

Movie star Jackie Chan has raised some eyebrows with comments he's supposed to have made during a speech to Hainan business leaders the other day.

To be precise:

I'm not sure if it's good to have freedom or not. I'm really confused now. If you're too free, you're like the way Hong Kong is now. It's very chaotic. Taiwan is also very chaotic.

I'm gradually beginning to feel that we Chinese need to be controlled. If we're not being controlled, we'll just do what we want.

Let's be real: Freedom indeed is a chaotic thing. Anytime you have free will and billions of people, things can get messy. That's why it's helpful to have something in place along the lines of the Zero Aggression Principle.

But control, along the lines Chan seems to be advocating, is aggression. I read elsewhere that Chan opposed the brutal crackdown at Tiananmen Square in 1989, but he seems to have made peace with his inner tyrant. That's unfortunate.

Jackie Chan has enjoyed the benefits of freedom and free markets. But like all fools and tyrants, he expresses sincere concern whether other people can be trusted to handle such bounty.

Here is where such fools and tyrants stumble: In truth, we were all born free. The Zero Aggression Principle — "No human being has the right - under any circumstances - to initiate force against another human being, nor to threaten or delegate its initiation" — speaks to our instincts that we are each entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The troubles begin when fools and tyrants attempt to impose external controls. For someone like Chan, who commands respect and admiration, to advocate for tyranny is tragic.

But fame and notoriety do not make one wise. Jackie Chan is not the first respected and admired person to speak utter falsehood, and he will not be the last. The truth is still the truth.

Thankfully, Chan at least confessed the obvious: He is really confused.

'I Dreamed A Dream'

Believe in your dream, and don't let anyone take it away or ridicule you into surrendering it.

We have seen this sequence on numerous American Idol episodes - the little person with a big dream who gets up in front of the judges and, well, she's not as big as she thinks she is.

But every so often - she is as big as the dream.

From Britain's Got Talent, it's seven and a half minutes you will not regret watching. Watch this.

Kumar invades the White House

At first I was completely baffled by Monday's episode of House, where co-workers discover the body of colleague Lawrence Kutner, who completely out of nowhere had committed suicide. On reflection and reading the real story of actor Kal Penn, from an artistic standpoint it makes great theater to have the curmudgeonly Dr. House, who can figure out anything, have a mystery strike close to his life that makes no sense.

The hard thing to wrap my brain around turns out to be Penn's decision to take a job in the White House as "associate director in the White House office of public liaison." Then I realized it was not such a stretch — after all, as Kumar in Harold and Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay, he had visited the western White House and smoked dope with George W. Bush. That's him on the left, in case you missed that particular cinematic moment.

In the interview I linked, Penn said he was inspired by his grandparents — "They marched with Gandhi in the Indian independence movement, and that was always in the back of my head." In that case I'm further perplexed. First, because he's going to work for an establishment that is devoted to locking up people like Kumar and throwing away the key. Second, because Gandhi is one of history's most revered philosophers of nonviolence, and Penn is going to work for a man who is in the process of ramping up the war in Afghanistan and reneged on his pledge to withdraw U.S. troops from Iraq within 16 months, instead putting a plan in motion that will leave an occupying force of 35,000-50,000 soldiers after 19 months.

I'm guessing Penn's grandparents are spinning in their graves.

B.W. At The Movies: Monsters vs. Aliens

Oh, come on. Right off the bat Monsters versus Aliens is a tip of the hat to the 1950s B-movie delights The Attack of the 50-Foot Woman, The Fly, Creature from the Black Lagoon, The Blob and Mothra. It couldn't possibly miss, right? They had me before the Dreamworks fishing kid is abducted by an alien ship.

This new animated feature is a smorgasbord of delightful references from the obvious (Independence Day, E.T., Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Star Trek) to the ones that catch you off-guard and give you a special giggle (The Amazing Colossal Man, Destroy All Monsters, "Initiate Code Nimoy!")

A hilarious gang of monsters who have been held captive at Area Fif — um, that is, a secret location — are joined by Susan a k a Ginormica, a young lady who has gained enormous stature after being hit by a mysterious meteorite. When Earth is invaded by aliens, the monsters are offered their freedom in exchange for helping to repel the invasion. Before you can say Ginormica, Dr. Cockroach, Missing Link, B.O.B. or Insectosaurus, they're off on a quite fun little adventure.

This puppy is for everyone who has fond memories of the low-budget sci-fi monster flicks of the 1950s or the big-budget flicks that they inspired. The voice cast is spectacularly brilliant (Hugh Laurie was born to be Dr. Cockroach; Seth Rogan as B.O.B. is, well, Seth Rogan; and Reese Witherspoon makes a great action hero — who knew?), the writing is crisp and clever, and the afore-mentioned cinema references are thick as flies. I loved it. Honey, put this one on the "keeper DVD" list for when it comes out.

Oh, and an underlying theme is the underhanded incompetence of government. How can you not love this movie?!?

B.W. At The Movies: Watchmen

OK, here's the deal. If you want to save the cost of a movie ticket and the popcorn and such, just break out your copy of Watchmen the graphic novel and read it again. Because, except for the omission of the Tales of the Black Freighter comic-book-within-a-comic-book and random scenes here and there, and with a rewrite of the climax to make it more realistic, what you're holding in your hands is the storyboard and most of the screenplay of the movie that opened Friday across the US of A.

Is that a bad thing? No, not necessarily. We're talking about one of the most ground-breaking comic books in the history of comic books, a 12-page miniseries that proved once and for all that literature could be created with pictures, word balloons and four-color printing. To see the story up there on the silver screen, lovingly recreated in all its dark and brutal glory with actors who look just like the comic book characters (well, most of 'em anyway) is a fanboy's dream.

In fact, if director Zack Snyder had tampered any more than he did with the story, Watchmen the movie could have been a great disappointment. It's a great story. And I'm hard pressed to think of any major detail that was left out of the film — most of the negative reviews I've encountered say that Snyder was actually too slavishly devoted to the source material, and I understand where they're coming from. That's the main reason the movie clocks in at 2:43: Snyder put the whole story up on screen. It could stand a little editing, maybe — but the beauty of the Alan Moore-Dave Gibbons masterpiece is that so many little details are necessary to the big payoff.

And Snyder fixes what I always believed was Watchmen's jump-the-shark moment. For months in 1986 and '87 (the story was released one chapter a month for a year), we readers were transfixed by what was clearly a complicated plot to perform a mysterious and unrevealed dastardly deed, including the often-gruesome murders of people who got too close to the truth. When the big payoff came in the 11th and 12th months, it revolved around fooling the world into believing that a gigantic monster from outer space had attacked New York. You know when Ralphie finds out the secret code is a crummy commercial for Ovaltine? For all its brilliance otherwise, that aspect of Watchmen always left me with a feeling akin to Ralph's.

With all due respect to Alan Moore, Snyder's substitute hoax is much more believable. Like the resolution of The Dark Knight last summer, Watchmen's revised ending still leaves me unhappy and a tad empty, but the movie version fits the story better in my humble opinion.

On the other hand, there's something over-the-top disturbing about Snyder's depictions of violence. This first bothered me when I saw 300, another film where Snyder devotes himself to recreating a well-known comic book. I didn't understand why the camera needed to linger so long on decapitations and dismemberments, and I don't understand the many similar choices in Watchmen.

For example, in Moore's story a child molester is tied up and left to die in a fire. Snyder's cinematic translation kills the molester with an up-close-and-personal, grimly realistic cleaver to the top of the head — not one chop, but at least three. Bullets shred flesh and leave gaping, bleeding holes. Maybe this is good — maybe people need to know, for example, that wounds left by Wolverine's nasty claws are going to look nasty; in other words, comic-book violence is not very comical when depicted realistically. But nearly three hours of this is more than enough.

So what do I think, when it's said and done, about Watchmen the movie? It's a damn fine piece of work, and I'm glad one of the great 20th century novels has been delivered virtually intact to a broader audience. I've seen reviewers complain that the long, unrelenting story ultimately left them cold — but in a way, that may be indicative of the film's success, because it's a cold story about what is ultimately a cold and calculating act of horror that succeeds and goes unpunished (or — remembering that final, lovingly recreated final scene — will it go unpunished?). This film may make people think about the kind of world they want to tolerate, and that would also be a good thing.

I liked the movie a lot. I do think I might have preferred a cinematic interpretation of Watchmen as opposed to essentially a live-action reading of the book. But then I might have joined a chorus that said the cinematic interpretation was a misinterpretation. So on balance, I'm glad this very good movie is what got made.

B.W. At The Movies: Last Chance Harvey

Come on - Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson? In the same movie? Of course it's going to be great! Dustin Hoffman is an American treasure. Emma Thompson is a British treasure. The only trick is how to get them together.

Of course - have Dustin's daughter get married in London. On the worst day of Dustin's life. And find a way for him to bump into Emma and rescue his soul.

That's the gist of a classy little movie called Last Chance Harvey, which I recommended as our Saturday night date even though I knew almost nothing about it. I vaguely understood the film had a solid performance by Hoffman, and when I heard Thompson was his co-star I needed to see it. I've had a thing for Emma ever since she stole my heart as (of all things) Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing back in '93. But I couldn't remember the name of this film — I kept wanting to call it Bad Hat Harry, which I knew was something else.

Be that as it may: Harvey Shine is an aging jingle writer whose career is teetering on the edge. He flies into Heathrow Airport on his way to his daughter's wedding and blows off Kate Walker the survey taker (more on her later). Several scenes full of awkward moments later, Harvey's daughter is telling him that she wants her stepfather to give her away at the altar. The wedding happens, and a crushed Harvey plans to skip the reception and fly back to New York. But he misses the plane and is fired. Devastated, he slinks into the airport bar/grille, where Kate — who meanwhile has endured an unpleasant blind date and several awkward moments with her slightly askew mother — is taking her lunch break. The rest is history.

Last Chance Harvey is not a groundbreaking movie. Its plot twists and turns are standard romantic comedy fare, but they ring true, and maybe that's why I like this film so much: It rings true. We have all had the worst day of our lives and searing heartbreak and lived to tell the tale. We know Harvey and Kate, because we've been there or somewhere like it, and we root for them despite ourselves. Early on in the story, I turned to Sweetie and said, "Poor Dustin. But don't worry, he's going to get Emma by the end of the movie." Of course it has a happy ending, or at least a hopeful one. Great romantic comedies almost always do.

And that's what surprised me most about this gentle little movie, even though with Dustin and Emma I knew it had to be. It really is great. Really.

P.S. The imdb.com listing on Last Chance Harvey a link to this article called "The 17 Best Romantic Comedies of this Decade." The list has enough gems — including a totally appropriate choice for #1 — that I'm going to try to see the handful of films I haven't seen yet. I've seen and thoroughly recommend #s 1, 4, 5, 9, 10 and 17.

Random thoughts on a Thursday morning

Lacking a specific reason to write but wanting to experience the sensation of fingers tapping over a keyboard, I searched through my hard drive's nethers for inspiration. My software jumped at the sight of Fay Wray.

The images are 76 years old this year, but I'm still drawn to King Kong, one of the magnificent movies, and the performance of Wray, a beautiful woman and talented actress. Yet whenever I sit down and doodle my "favorite 10" or "favorite 25" movies of all time, the big ape and the ravishing woman never seem to make the cut. Maybe I should rethink the list. Again.

— The New Prez made a pitch for refinancing mortgage debt Wednesday. He'll confiscate the future cash from our children's and grandchildren's paychecks and give people a chance to stay in the homes they haven't been able to afford so far.

Why does it seem that everyone in America except the politicians have finally come to realize that debt is not a good thing?

— The current storyline of Heroes focuses on an attempt to round up super-powered folks for The Greater Good. The storyline highlights how much we've morphed into a surveillance society: The Heroes can run, but they can't hide from all the cameras. This is a positive development, although movies like Enemy of the State failed to rouse people from their comfort that Big Brother is watching us so he can, um, take care of us.

Dollhouse: OK, I'll come back

Friday night was opening night for Joss Whedon's long-awaited new show, Dollhouse, starring Eliza Dushku and — hey, who IS that woman? — Dichen Lachman. OK, we didn't really get to know Dichen's character, but we (well, I) wanted to.

Bottom line: Too soon to tell. This one was high on exposition — introducing the Dollhouse, having a couple of things go horribly wrong, and dropping in a few other odds and ends to set the stage for future episodes.

But I'll come back. Anything with Whedon's touch is usually worth a little patience.

B.W.'s Book Report: I Am Legend

Of course. There had to be a reason three sets of filmmakers and three prominent actors wanted to make a movie out of this book: I Am Legend is absolutely brilliant.

It's too bad its heartbreaking narrative is so poorly represented on the big screen — by Vincent Price in the low-budget but earnest The Last Man on Earth, Charlton Heston in the campy The Omega Man that said more about the late 1960s-early 1970s than anything else, and finally, Will Smith in the stupefyingly incoherent I Am Legend, which preserved the name and one or two elements of the original Richard Matheson book. I love all three actors, but these were not their finest hours.

I have commented before about the downright inexplicable ending of the 2007 Will Smith blockbuster, which betrays not only Matheson but its own set-up. Not until I finally read the short novel, however, did I fully understand how much that big moneymaker betrayed Matheson's story.

All three films don't have enough faith in the tale to follow through on what Matheson wrote, with its compelling and haunting finish, but none insults the author as thoroughly as the 2007 version. That thing turned a thoughtful journey through a post-apocalyptic world into a mindless special-effects action flick by ripping up the screenwriter's adaptation and replacing an insightful climax with an explosion.

Who am I to pass judgment on what, as of this writing, is the 43rd biggest moneymaker of all time among U.S. films, in excess of a quarter-billion dollars in revenues? I'm a guy who can't get back the two hours of my life it took to watch the gorram thing, that's who.

I was insulted by that film, and I had never read the book. Now, I can only imagine the outrage of anyone who knew and loved I Am Legend the book for five decades and sat down to discover that atrocity is all Hollywood could make of it.

Three films, three strikes, they're out. The 1964 Vincent Price effort was a good swing, maybe even a long foul ball to the bleachers, hampered by its budget. The 1971 Charlton Heston beast was a foul tip that didn't trust Matheson enough and tried too hard to be sixties-hip. But the Will Smith monstrosity was a barrel house swing at a pitch in the dirt, a complete and embarrassing miss.

Buy the book, buy the book, buy the book. If you want an OK film adaptation, check out Vincent Price. But the best film version of this story will be the one that plays in the back of your mind as you're reading the book. The book is the only version that I am 100% glad I experienced.

Sometimes there's just not much to say

I suppose I could write about how I've finished watching Jericho Season 1 and admit that I have a richer understanding of just how great Season 2 is.

I could make a fuss about how the State seems to bounce back and forth between administrations loaded with Bushian statists and those loaded with Clintonian statists — although JN's entreaty to take the attitude of "State? I don't see a state" seems the most sane.

Somewhere along the way I could mention that I was ready to stop watching Heroes altogether — what's with all the darkness and graphic violence? — until Hiro singlehandedly rescued the show by visiting a comic book shop.

And I could write about how writing "refuse to be afraid" feels especially like spitting into the wind lately with the atmosphere of fear that so many folks are hellbent to generate in this world in recent weeks.

Speaking of which, I could write with some satisfaction that Netflix and Janus Films have made available a much, much improved translation of Akira Kurosawa's I Live in Fear (also known as Record of a Living Being) that erased my unhappiness with the unwatchable previous version and made this extremely potent film accessible to my non-Japanese-speaking self at last.

But I don't have much to say beyond those opening lines.

I think what I would most like to do is shrug. And that a) is something one must plan much more seriously than I have planned to date; b) is something one doesn't announce.

Has Heroes jumped the shark?

You may recall that when the TV show Heroes first hit the airwaves, I was agog. A compelling, mysterious science fiction story with so many homages that it was geek heaven — complete with casting original Star Trek actors and frequent comic book references.

The show hiccuped and seemed to lose its way during the truncated second season, but you could chalk that up to the writers strike. The parameters of a great cross-generational heroes vs. villain epic were there, but it had to be squeezed into 11 episodes because the writers shrugged.

That doesn't explain the confused muddle of the third season to date. In this year's arc, titled "Villains," the gang is again faced with the goal of preventing a sordid future, but those we once considered evil are showing signs of goodness and those we once considered good are flirting with their inner demons. Toss in some new characters and the fact that the show thrives on withholding bits of the puzzle anyway, and it's hard to keep it all straight.

The jump-the-shark moment came early for me, when level-headed but naive scientist Mohinder threw his instinctive caution to the wind and injected himself with a serum that could turn him into a superhero. No. 1, the guy we spent the first two seasons with never showed any sign of doing something impulsive and stupid — and he always wanted to study the heroes, not become one. No. 2, the serum started turning him into Jeff Goldblum in The Fly.

Last week the show revisited its opening moments and showed those incidents from a different angle, and some of that first-season magic seemed to come back. Behind the scenes word came that a couple of lead producers were fired and the remaining team was given the task of reviving the show, which has lagged in the ratings. There was some sense that everyone knew what was wrong — Mohinder has apparently been de-insecticized, for example.

Monday night was a step backwards, as the muddle returned for a visit. And in another jump the shark moment, Hiro — whose childlike enthusiasm for his powers has provided much of the delight in this program — has been robbed of his last 18 years of memory and thinks he's 10. For now he not only has childlike enthusiasm, he is a child as he rediscovers his powers, playing pranks with his time-freezing powers and using his newly rediscovered teleportation powers to jump into the comic book shop. I'm not loving it.

The power of that first season was such that I'm still drawn to Heroes, but all of this heroes-and-villains flip-flopping has made many of the characters less appealing, less attractive and most of all — even though the intent was the opposite — less real. They may yet tie up all the loose ends into a boffo payoff at the end, but here's the trick of the first season: As confusing as it was, they made you care. At the moment, I'm not sure I care anymore. Heroes teeters at the brink.