Cuba Gooding Jr’s Barrel Run Through a District Thoroughfare

"You took a bullet for the man. No one could ask for more than that."-- James Woods, the initial downgrade phase

All this time, with the disposable underwear chaffing sores on the underside of my thigh, it turns out, recognition clicking like a tumbler, that I would have been able to recognize Amber Tamblyn if I had connected her accusation of James Woods to her starring role in Joan of Arcadia. The show runs at one am on Start TV, unbeknownst to the dowager until recently, this latest syndicate, seemingly distinguishing itself with stock serials less edgy than Shades of Blue, and that series was too edgy for its network audience. But Arcadia is quirky and corny, rounds its characters out with affection, condescending neither to them nor viewers of the show in its playful syncretism. Never one to admire Mary Steenburgen’s range, here she was correctly cast as a homemaker reaching outward. Seems to be what she’s good at. I lost touch with the show after the network brought in Lucifer for poor Joan to counterbalance, and reentered it at the point where Jason Ritter’s Kevin  discovers a conservative bent in his writing skills is a useful outlet for his anger over his paraplegia. The writers, however, rarely, if ever, never allow conservatism its due, and allow Mantegna to dress down his son’s ego for upending a leniency deal for a thief trying to support his child.

Yes, Amber’s down to earth sensibilities made me reconsider her accusation against James Woods. I’ve reflected on what this “pass” which he claims is a lie says about his taste as a sixty year old, and have decided not to side with either actor, simply because asking a minor out on its face isn’t illegal. The imprecation in the contention between them is only the possibility of statutory rape, not its inevitable conclusion, and as I’ve written, none of us can know whether or not he intended to take it that far.

End Game, for a political thriller, was only noteworthy because it appears to be a lethal Clinton era critique, in which Woods’ character, a rather ambient Secret Service Director, sacrifices himself for a first lady more alluring and stylized than Hillary. Perhaps the studio thought not providing Warren Commission answers was the film’s selling point, in its disjointed jump cuts, but it does provide us with the James Woods as we have him today, in his war of wills with a hornless ram like Jack Dorsey.