IL GIOCO DEI TELEFILM - Achtung, Baby! Domenica a Milano c'è il primo Torneo del "Gioco dei Telefilm" alla Città del Gioco. Venite numerosi (anche a gruppi che si gioca a squadre)!
Domenica 16 dicembre, alla Città del Gioco di Milano (Via Forze Armate 103), si svolgerà il Primo Torneo italiano del GIOCO DEI TELEFILM. Iscrizione gratuita. Possibilità di iscriversi a squadre. Al vincitore una copia del GdT in omaggio. Per tutti la possibilità di acquistare il gioco al prezzo speciale di 25 euro (Christmas is coming!). ISCRIVETEVI!
http://www.facebook.com/events/299515323487283/?notif_t=plan_user_joined

ANTEPRIMA ESCLUSIVA - Ultima ora! "Arrow" in onda su Italia 1 in prima serata (verso primavera)

NEWS - J.R(en't anymore)! La morte di Larry Hagman diventa evento tv con quella del suo personaggio Stetsonato e riporta in vita i "Walking Dead" non ancora apparsi in "Dallas"

(ANSA) - NEW YORK - La serie tv 'Dallas' si prepara a dare l'addio definitivo al suo J.R.: Dopo la morte lo scorso 23 novembre dell'attore che lo interpretava, Larry Hagman, la produzione e il network Tnt che trasmette la serie si preparano a celebrare il funerale del loro personaggio piu' rappresentativo, lo spietato J.R. Ewing. Secondo fonti stampa, la cerimonia funebre per l'addio a J.R. dovrebbe andare in onda il prossimo 11 marzo, durante l'ottavo episodio della seconda stagione, e gira anche voce che ci sara' il ritorno di famosi ex di 'Dallas', alcuni dei quali non sono ancora apparsi nella nuova serie. La morte di Hagman ha colto di sorpresa la produzione e nonostante l'attore avesse gia' girato sei episodi della seconda stagione gli sceneggiatori hanno dovuto rimettere mano alla trama e adattarla alla situazione.

L'EDICOLA DI LOU - Stralci e commenti sui telefilm dai media italiani e stranieri

VULTURE
Gossip Girl: A Farewell Ode to the Craziness
"It's hard to believe there's only one more episode of Gossip Girl. Not just because of the treasured place it holds in our hearts but also because so much has happened, and yet, so little has. Season one brought us Chuck and Blair gazing lustily at each other, Dan writing (or trying to write) exposés about his elite friends, Georgina making trouble, Lily and Bart being together despite the existence of Rufus — and that's pretty much where we still are, plus a sex tape or two. But we took a crazy route to get here. It wasn't so long ago that Chuck was attempting to date-rape Little J. Or that Georgina roofied Serena so she'd miss the SATs. Or that Nate's father was bankrupting their family, or that Dan was dating one of his high school teachers. The show has always toed the line between soapy and ridiculous, and as the seasons wore on, that line got crossed more and more. There was the endless line of summer love interests, who'd make trouble for a few episodes and then generally fade. Marcus, Blair's first royal boyfriend. Catherine, Nate's first much-older girlfriend. Bree, Juliet, Eva, Louis, Steve — all discovered in the lush romantic world known as Not New York. And all trouble. There were bonkers love interests along the way, too. Tripp, Nate's married cousin whom Serena fell for, and who was running for Congress when his grandfather paid someone to "fall" into the Hudson River so that Tripp could show off his heroic side and save him. Except it wasn't his grandfather after all, it was Tripp's wife who paid the river-faller, and was trying to frame Tripp and Nate's grandfather. Also Tripp crashed his car with Serena in the passenger seat and he fled the scene, because of adultery and being terrible. There was Diana, Nate's cougar boss who was just as immature as the rest of the GG-ers, who still operate under the idea that doing things to make other people jealous is a completely normal and predictable way to be. The less said about this season's Sage, the better.

There was Olivia, Dan's college girlfriend with whom he had a threesome with Vanessa. Oh yeah, Vanessa. Ah, Vanessa. Self-righteous Vanessa, never far from making a documentary about something — rich kids, Tripp, Haiti. Always sneaking into and out of the Humphrey loft. Always stealing other people's written materials (letters, novels). GG is a show about excess, a show about scandals, and fashion, and fighting, which is why Blair is mostly getting a pass in this ode to Bananatown. (Though … how many times can someone sabotage or be sabotaged at a fashion show before they think, "You know what? No more fashion shows"?) But let's not forget about Uncle Jack. Or the time Lady Gaga performed at Blair's behest. Or the time Blair read out loud at UCB. Bart Bass died. Bart Bass came back from the dead. Bart Bass died again. And that brings us to Little J, possibly the looniest looney tune in the lineup. Jenny's stories started out vaguely triumphant — Brooklyn ragamuffin beats rich kids at their own game; wears headband. But then there she was, enmeshed in a Belgian drug-smuggling ring, designing drug-smuggling jackets with pills hidden in the drug-smuggling buttons. We'll miss the romance and bed-hopping, the elaborate breakfast spreads, the hats, the name-dropping, the unbelievably gala-heavy social events calendars. But the audacious craziness of some of these story lines? We'll miss you most of all". (Margaret Lyons, 12.12.2012)

NEWS - Una freccia al cuore e una alla testa! Parla Norman Reedus, l'interprete di Daryl di "The Walking Dead"
Intervista tratta da "GQ" Usa

When The Walking Dead's mid-season finale left Daryl Dixon's life hanging in the balance until February, the Internet almost collapsed. And for good reason: All we wanted for Christmas was to know that Daryl was safe and sound—and, if it wasn't too much to ask, to maybe see him playing Joseph to baby Judith's Jesus in a prison nativity scene. Instead, we're left listlessly trudging through the winter with haunting visions, recalling the premature departures of Jimmy Darmody and Ned Stark.

Our love of Daryl can be chalked up to the fact that Norman Reedus's nuanced portrayal of the southern lone wolf with a heart of gold adds a depth that can make the other characters seem one-dimensional. Somehow, he shows up first on our lists for every hypothetical situation (ex: Who would you most want to get a beer with? Who would you want with you in a knife fight? Who would you want to discuss the intricacies of Love Actually with?) In an exclusive interview, GQ caught up with Reedus, the actor who, armed with a crossbow and a scowl, has slaughtered his way into America's apple-pie heart.

GQ: Daryl's the ultimate survivor—how does this happen?
Norman Reedus: I had that same question, but I guess I was just outnumbered. I wanted them to put some bruises and blood on my face so it didn't look like I just gave up. When I was walking with that bag on my head, I tried to play it as scared as possible. I wanted to up the sibling ante a little bit and give Merle this look that said, "Big brother, save me" as much as possible.

GQ: It was a little bit surprising that Daryl wasn't just going apeshit trying to break away, but it added a certain vulnerability to the character.
Norman Reedus: Merle's face totally changed when I came out, too. We did some rehearsal and I was playing it a little more defiant, but when I went in that other direction—as sniffly and lost as possible—Merle's face is completely changed. I love that look that he gives me, like,"Oh fuck, I got us in this situation."

GQ: Daryl's the ultimate fan favorite—I think that's pretty much a given.
Norman Reedus: I talked to [showrunner and executive producer] Glen Mazzara the other day, and he told me he gets tons of mail that's like, "Don't kill Daryl." He was doing interviews and they asked, "So, you ready for Christmas?" and he's like, "No, Christmas is going to suck. I'm gonna have hate mail all through the holidays."

GQ: For a character who doesn't get the most lines, he's unusually complex.
Norman Reedus: When Daryl was first introduced, a lot of bloggers and fans of the show hated him and generalized him a Southern, redneck racist. I live in the South, and that's not really the case, certainly not in 2012. I'm not saying it doesn't exist, but you can't just categorize everybody who lives in the South as awful rednecks. So it's more interesting to fight against that, and for him to have heart and want to help. Feeling wanted is a big deal to Daryl; he's never had people rely on him before, and that's what keeps him there. He could take off on his own and still make it, so why is he staying? You have to find all these different reasons to make it interesting for him to want to stay, and I think having this feeling of self-worth, maybe for the first time in his life, is one of those reasons. There are more things to do with this guy, still, and I'd hate to just throw it away to be a cartoon.

GQ: Do you think he's destined to take over leadership at some point?
Norman Reedus: No, I really don't. It's like with Randall in season two—Randall had information that would save the group, and there's this big discussion of, "Should we keep him? Should we put him to work? Should we kill him? Should we let him go?" And Daryl just said, "Fuck it, I'll take care of it. I'll just go in and beat the shit out of him 'til he tells me something." In his mind, he did something that would keep people alive, but he didn't come out and go, "Hey guys, I took care of it! Pat me on the back!" He just kind of slyly came out with bloody knuckles and said, "This is what's up." I think he's more that guy than a look-at-me, leader type. I don't think he really sees it as leadership; people have their duties in the group, and they do those duties.

GQ: How do you like working with the writers?
Norman Reedus: Oh, I love working with the writers, especially when certain scripts are more collaborative. I don't think anybody knows our characters better than the writers, and that's just the bottom line. The writers write episodes that work for a TV show as a group and tell a story. The actors know their parts in telling those stories. We have a very good group of writers and they're all cool and they all listen and have great ideas to play with and the show wouldn't be as big of a success if we didn't have such talented writers.

GQ: How much input do you have into your character? I read that you wanted Daryl to be an Al-Anon member rather than an actual drug addict or alcoholic.
Norman Reedus: I thought it would be very one-dimensional to have him be mini-Merle. You have to think about the backstory and think, how does growing up with an older brother who's just hardcore nasty affect a young guy? Does he follow in his big brother's footsteps? Yeah, maybe in the beginning, but as he gets older, he probably wants to become his own person. He's reinventing himself with this new world; there was an early script with a scene where, after the Sophia's death, Lori comes up to me and I'm taking all my brother's drugs, and that's just really not what I wanted this guy to be. I wanted him to be embarrassed of the way he grew up, and to be embarrassed when some racial slur came out of Merle's mouth. So I talked to the writers and, to their credit, they helped me develop this character, and I think one of the reasons Daryl's so popular is because he's fighting against this terrible thing he was doomed to become.

GQ: I can't imagine there are a lot of shows that would allow an actor to play that big of a role in shaping their character.
Norman Reedus: You pick your moments to fight for your character, and sometimes you have to just trust the writers and the people who are looking at the show overall. I just read this interview with Jack Nicholson, and he said sometimes he does things his way, and sometimes you just have to trust the writers, otherwise you're gonna do the same thing over and over that you think is cool. I think it's interesting to have a cool character not look so cool, you know? I don't mind if there's snot running down my nose, and my hair's all fucked up, and I look all weak, and it's not the best lighting. Good! Keep it that way! It's more interesting. Can you imagine if I just walked up to the camera and fuckin' struck a pose every fucking time with perfect lighting and perfect hair and did the same fucking thing every single time? It'd be boring as hell.

GQ: In what ways are you like Daryl?
Norman Reedus: Uh, I'm shy. I'm socially awkward. I'm a loner myself. I'm more of a listener than a talker. I value friendship—I'd do anything for my friends, and I think he's like that. I'm not afraid to take chances or go off on my own. And a lot like Daryl, I'll go off in a direction and try something completely wrong, and learn my lesson, [laughs] you know what I'm sayin'? And then all the obvious reasons I'm not like him one bit; I mean, I'm driving back to Manhattan with a cat in my lap right now.

GQ: What kind of cat do you have?
Norman Reedus: It's just this fat, black alley cat. My son wanted a black kitten when he was a kid, and I found it in the East Village in some rescue shelter, but it was born in a box and the guy that was getting rid of it was like, "You don't want this cat. This cat's never gonna love anyone." And the first time I saw it, it was like just hissing and scratching everything it saw and now it's like this big, fat, chill cat.

GQ: Chandler Riggs [Carl] said a lot of the adults on set act like kids, specifically you and Steven Yeun [Glenn].
Norman Reedus: I've always said that Daryl and Carl get along well, because Carl's like an adult kid and Daryl's a childlike adult. We goof off all the time on set. Andy [Lincoln, who plays Rick] and I, we'll do some big scene and when the camera's not in our faces and we're standing there together, I'll go, "I love you!" and he'll go, "Fuck you." Or vice versa. Yeah, we're always fuckin' around.

GQ: I'm pretty sure if given the option, most people would take Daryl as the one to have during an apocalypse. Do you think you'd be able to hold up as well personally?
Norman Reedus: Man, I'd probably do okay for a couple weeks, and then I'd just be really depressed. I mean, I like motorcycles, and I'd probably just get a backpack and a gun and whatever cash I can find and just grab my son and throw him on the back and head north.

GQ: You ride bikes?
Norman Reedus: I do, I have two motorcycles and I'm building a third one. I like bikes a lot. I have my own bike in Georgia, which is actually in [special effects make-up supervisor] Greg Nicotero's garage.

GQ: How long have you been riding for?
Norman Reedus: Geez, I've been riding since junior high, actually. It's amazing. I ride a bike to set when the weather's nice; it's the best way to get to set and back. It clears your head, and it's beautiful here.

GQ: What's better than that? You ride a bike to work, you go hack zombies for a little bit, and then you just call it a day.
Norman Reedus: Right? It's the best life ever. I'm so fortunate, it's ridiculous.

Stracult e Stracotti - …ovvero la serie che questa settimana va su e quella che inevitabilmente va giù. Parola di Stargirl!

Ci sono serie talmente stracotte che meriterebbero di venir chiuse dopo una manciata di episodi appena, altre che, nonostante tutto, un’occhiata se la meritano nonostante tutto. Ce ne sono alcune che vengono trascinate per lunghe, estenuanti stagioni, altre che al termine del primo anno, si beccano una chiusura anticipata lasciando in sospeso gli esigui colpi di scena che solitamente le caratterizzano.

Esistono poi alcuni telefilm che, soltanto con l’episodio pilota, si confermano immediatamente “stracult”, senza lasciare alcun dubbio allo spettatore. Altri invece ci mettono un po’ a convincere pubblico e critica per diventare successivamente piccole pietre miliari del panorama telefilmico internazionale, per arrivare poi a certi show che, seppur stilisticamente e qualitativamente mediocri, riescono in qualche modo, a far parlare di sé.

Riallacciandosi al detto “nel bene o nel male purché se ne parli”, questo è proprio il caso di 90210, spin-off, remake, sequel (di epiteti gliene sono stati attribuiti molti in questi cinque anni) del celebre Beverly Hills 90210, storico teen drama che negli anni Novanta ha fatto impazzire la mia generazione, gettando le basi di un genere che, ahimè, oggi, si è perso per strada.

A metà strada tra lo stracult e stracotto, per tutti i motivi elencati sopra, al centro della nostra rubrica oggi, proprio i ragazzi del West Beverly High versione 2.0, che con l’ultima puntata trasmessa sulla CW la scorsa settimana, hanno festeggiato il traguardo di “100 episodi”.
Come già anticipato, non ci troviamo certo di fronte a un capolavoro, né tantomeno a show di grosso rilievo, questo è poco ma sicuro. E se vogliamo, anzi, di difetti, nella serie ideata da Rob Thomas e sviluppata da Gabe Sachs e Jeff Judah, possiamo riscontrane parecchi: dall’inconsistenza di alcune storyline, a una sceneggiatura fin troppo superficiale e prevedibile, fino ad arrivare a un plot spesso banale ed esagerato e una recitazione (per la maggior parte dei componenti del cast) piuttosto elementare.

Ma se la serie resiste, a fatica e nonostante l’esiguo numero di spettatori ogni settimana - appena un milione scarso (e un rating dello 0,5 nella fascia 18-49) -, un motivo c’è.
Da un alto abbiamo le guest star, che come da tradizione del genere (basti pensare alla serie madre o a One Tree Hill) non mancano mai: da Nelly Furtado a Carly Rae Jepsen, da Ne-Yo ai Jonas Brothers, sono molti i personaggi pop che fino a oggi hanno contribuito ad animare il teen drama. Dall’altro, nonostante alcune storie come già detto, appaiono pressoché surreali, il punto di forza di 90210, è proprio nella leggerezza che porta in scena, in quell’irresistibile parvenza trash che l’ha caratterizzata e che trova il culmine nell’irrefrenabile personaggio di Naomi Clark, interpretato da AnnaLynne McCord.

A conti fatti quindi, non c’è dubbio che 90210 sia uno stracotto dalla nascita, da quando tentò, inutilmente, di calcare le fila di un colosso del mondo dei telefilm come Beverly Hills 90210, fallendo in tutto e per tutto.
Ma guardando bene sotto la superficie, questi 100 episodi andati in onda finora, ci hanno regalato, nonostante tutto, un piacevole diversivo, un toccasana per scacciare i pensieri, quaranta minuti che, settimana dopo settimana, ci hanno aiutare a mettere da parte i piccoli problemi quotidiani per un po’, calandoci con leggerezza in un mondo patinato e affascinate, surreale sì, ma senza dubbio esilarante.