Only Murders in the Building effectively challenges contemporary TV comedy’s typical reliance on high-concept plotting and star power over genuine humour. At first glance, the show—featuring Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Selena Gomez as a trio of true-crime podcasters—might seem like a formulaic exercise in blending media satire with intricate mysteries and emotional themes. The presence of high-profile guest stars like Meryl Streep and Tina Fey could further suggest that the show’s success is due to prioritizing star appeal over substantive comedic content. It could, but doesn’t. I laughed out loud several times, although I will admit that I did binge the last few episodes from season three right before the premiere.
The fourth season of Only Murders in the Building exemplifies this success by shifting its focus to Hollywood. This new setting could have risked repeating the pitfalls of the previous Broadway-themed season, which was criticized for its insular focus and excessive reliance on theatrical references. However, the show reinvents itself by integrating Hollywood elements into the familiar environment of the Arconia apartment complex. This approach maintains the show’s core appeal while exploring new narrative territories.
The transition to Hollywood is not just a change of scenery but a clever thematic evolution. In the first episode of the fourth season, the show incorporates visual references to Sergio Leone’s 1968 Western, Once Upon a Time in the West. This homage is particularly notable in how it reflects the plot’s exploration of Hollywood’s allure and its impact on the characters. The episode mirrors Leone’s use of widescreen cinematography and meticulous framing to enhance dramatic tension, effectively translating Leone’s epic Western scale into the urban landscape of the Arconia.
This visual reference is more than an aesthetic choice; it serves a thematic purpose. The directorial choice to include sweeping, cinematic shots aligns with Leone’s style, emphasizing the grandeur of the landscape to evoke a sense of mythic scale. In Only Murders, this technique underscores the characters’ journey into Hollywood, providing a stark contrast to their usual cozy New York setting. This cinematic approach highlights the clash between the old-world charm of the Arconia and the glitzy, exploitative nature of Hollywood, deepening the narrative’s engagement with themes of authenticity versus spectacle.
However, to fully appreciate the show’s evolution, it’s crucial to understand its roots. Three seasons in, the Only Murders universe is so populated and its plot so labyrinthine that providing a brief précis is nearly impossible. In season one, three neighbors and true-crime enthusiasts—washed-up TV actor Charles (an uptight and egotistically frustrated Martin), washed-up theater director Oliver (Short, delivering a flamboyantly sweaty performance), and millennial Mabel (an utterly deadpan Gomez, in one of TV’s most compellingly strange performances)—started a podcast about a suspicious death in their fancy apartment complex. Subsequent seasons have expanded this universe, with season two focusing on the murder of the building’s board president Bunny, and season three centering on Ben Glenroy (Paul Rudd), the obnoxious star of Oliver’s Broadway flop Death Rattle. I got it wrong each season.
Which brings us to season four. At the end of season three, Sazz Pataki (Jane Lynch), the phlegmatic stunt double of TV detective Charles, was shot through an apartment window. Before the trio can start their investigation, Hollywood beckons.
The trip is a comic feast, particularly during the meeting with unhinged producer Bev Melon (Molly Shannon), who describes her desperate quest for the trio’s life rights with a memorable line: When I see a hot piece of adaptable IP getting circled by a bunch of horny rival studios, I go in hard and I always finish first. This dialogue, both contemporary and comedic, is complemented by vintage slapstick from Martin, as Charles attempts to negotiate a fee while struggling with a piece of paper across a supersized conference table. Martin Short holding his legs? Hilarious.
The season also introduces new characters, including Zach Galifianakis as Oliver, Eugene Levy as Charles, and Eva Longoria (a comic revelation) as very straight-faced Mabel. The plot’s unfolding involves a lot—most of which would spoil if you haven’t seen it—but it quickly becomes apparent that solving Sazz’s murder requires sifting through the myriad loose ends left by the podcast and the TV show itself. All those notes on the table at Sazz’s apartment, yes, the one from Mulholland Drive must mean something? Right? or more red herrings? Something about twins? And then the new Hollywood directors are twins.
This clever, long-game plotting makes Only Murders genuinely gripping as a murder mystery and will drive me crazy with conspiracy theories for the next while. It’s a testament to how well-crafted storytelling and character development can elevate a show beyond its genre constraints.
A single story can evolve into multiple compelling narratives, each offering a unique lens on its themes and characters. I am compelled, after watching the 2024’s movie The Crow, to speak about why sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. I’ll compare this with the title character in Patricia Highsmith’s 1955 crime novel The Talented Mr. Ripley.
The Crow is a comic book character created in the late 1980s. It was made into an epic movie in 1994 starring Brandon Lee who tragically died while this was being filmed. I grew up watching Bruce Lee movies so while the younger wasn’t all that well known, his passing was monumental. And this was pre-social media!
The Crow (1994) is a hauntingly atmospheric film that weaves together themes of love, vengeance, and redemption within a gothic, urban landscape. Set in a decaying, rain-soaked city, the story follows Eric Draven, a musician who is brutally murdered alongside his fiancée on the eve of their wedding. One year later, Eric is resurrected by a mysterious crow, serving as a guide and symbol of his newfound power to seek vengeance against those who wronged him. The film’s aesthetic, characterized by its dark, brooding visuals and stylized violence, complements its exploration of grief and the supernatural. The relentless pursuit of justice by Eric, who teeters between life and death, creates a narrative that is both tragic and cathartic.
At the heart of The Crow is the enduring love between Eric and his fiancée, a love that transcends death and fuels his quest for retribution. Brandon Lee’s portrayal of Eric Draven is iconic, imbuing the character with a sense of both sorrow and resolve. The film’s atmosphere is enhanced by its moody soundtrack, featuring a mix of alternative rock and melancholic ballads that echo the film’s themes. Director Alex Proyas crafts a world that is both beautiful and menacing, where the lines between the living and the dead are blurred. The Crow remains a cult classic, not only for its compelling narrative and striking visuals but also for its meditation on loss and the desire for justice in a world overshadowed by darkness.
I’ll just say this: this new 2024 movie sucks. It got a 1/5 stars from The Guardian and I feel like writing a letter to the Editor asking if that is because they couldn’t give zero stars.
So why didn’t this remake work?
I felt like it was a series of visuals of the main tattooed character finding Matrix style leather jackets and then a set of stairs to walk either up in down in the pouring rain whilst a crow flies onto his shoulder. The characters were paper thin, much thinner than even those from the original comic book. None of the original panache was there and the love story was, well, insulting to Aphrodite. I mentioned to my friend on the way to the theatre that I hoped it wasn’t a remake where they take the story and add a bunch of computerized graphics in the hopes that this will distract the audience. It was the under-attention to the role of the characters that made this movie just not work.
So when does it work? It ironically works in movies when you focus on character, not just visuals.
Alain Delon passed away a few weeks ago. I had just watched him in Le samouraï from 1967 so when I read his obituary I also learned that he played Tom Ripley, the main protagonist of The Talented Mr. Ripley, the 1955 crime novel of the same name.
Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr. Ripley is a masterful exploration of identity, deception, and the dark allure of ambition. The novel follows Tom Ripley, a young man with a murky past and a talent for mimicry, as he is sent to Europe by a wealthy businessman to retrieve his wayward son, Dickie Greenleaf. What begins as a seemingly straightforward task quickly unravels into a chilling tale of obsession and murder. Highsmith delves deep into Tom’s psyche, revealing his yearning for wealth and status, as well as his envy of Dickie’s carefree lifestyle. Tom’s desire to become someone else—someone better—drives the narrative forward, creating an atmosphere of escalating tension and moral ambiguity.
Highsmith’s portrayal of Tom Ripley is both unsettling and fascinating. She crafts a character who is simultaneously repulsive and sympathetic, a man who commits heinous acts yet remains strangely relatable. Tom’s ability to deceive those around him—and even himself—underscores the novel’s exploration of identity as a fluid and constructed concept. Highsmith skillfully blurs the lines between reality and illusion, drawing readers into Tom’s increasingly elaborate web of lies. The novel’s tension is heightened by the luxurious and picturesque settings of Italy, from the vibrant streets of Rome to the serene coastal towns, which contrast sharply with the dark and twisted inner world of its protagonist.
The novel’s enduring appeal lies in its exploration of the human capacity for self-reinvention and the lengths to which one might go to escape mediocrity. Highsmith raises questions about the nature of morality, the consequences of unchecked ambition, and the fragility of identity. The Talented Mr. Ripley is not just a psychological thriller; it is a profound commentary on the darker aspects of human nature. Through Tom Ripley’s journey, set against the backdrop of Italy’s sun-drenched landscapes and opulent villas, Highsmith invites readers to confront the unsettling reality that beneath the veneer of civility and success, there may lie a dangerous and insatiable hunger for more.
The Talented Mr. Ripley has inspired several adaptations, each offering a unique portrayal of the enigmatic Tom Ripley, whose character serves as the linchpin of the narrative. In the 1960 film Purple Noon (originally Plein Soleil), Alain Delon embodies Ripley with a magnetic charm and cold-blooded precision. Delon’s portrayal emphasizes Ripley’s calculated, almost detached nature, highlighting his ability to manipulate those around him with ease. The sun-drenched settings of Italy in Purple Noon contrast sharply with the darkness of Ripley’s intentions, creating a visual tension that mirrors the character’s inner turmoil. This adaptation captures the essence of Highsmith’s novel, with Delon’s Ripley as a smooth, enigmatic figure who navigates the line between ambition and amorality with chilling ease.
Purple Noon was directed by René Clément and released in 1960. It didn’t make Delon a Hollywood star but it did assure his career as a successful European star (I also enjoyed Delon in the 1973 film, No Way Outa.k.a Tony Arzenta. The final scene in No Way Out on the steps of the Noto Cathedral made me think that Coppola might have been channeling this scene in the finale of Godfather III on the steps of the Palermo Opera House.)
Anyway… Clément’s Purple Noon is lusciously shot across Italy and seeing this coastline and geography was eye opening compared to its (over) development today. I digress.
The 1999 adaptation, starring Matt Damon as Ripley, offers a different interpretation, focusing more on the psychological complexity of the character. Damon’s Ripley is portrayed as a more vulnerable and socially awkward figure, whose deep insecurities and desire for acceptance drive his descent into deception and murder. The film lingers into Ripley’s psyche, exploring his struggle with identity and the lengths he will go to in order to attain the life he covets. The Italian backdrop, while still picturesque, serves more as a reflection of Ripley’s inner world—beautiful yet fraught with tension. This version is more introspective, emphasizing Ripley’s internal conflicts and the tragic elements of his character.
In the 2024 Netflix miniseries, Andrew Scott takes on the role of Ripley, bringing a new dimension to the character. Scott’s portrayal is nuanced, blending the charm of Delon’s Ripley with the psychological depth of Damon’s interpretation. The miniseries format allows for a more extended exploration of Ripley’s character, offering a detailed look at his transformation from an unassuming underdog to a ruthless manipulator. Scott’s Ripley is both compelling and unsettling, with the series taking full advantage of the episodic structure to build a slow-burning tension around his character.
The Italian setting, once again, provides a backdrop that is both idyllic and deceptive, mirroring Ripley’s dual nature. Each adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley brings its own focus to the character, reflecting the different facets of Highsmith’s creation and the enduring intrigue of Tom Ripley. But even with these scenic vistas, they never overwhelm character.
In my recent lecture on Caravaggio, the visuals from the 2024 Netflix miniseries adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley provided a compelling context, as the series features Tom Ripley traveling through Italy to visit locations connected to the renowned artist. This cinematic journey not only enriched the discussion by illustrating the evocative landscapes and architectural settings of Caravaggio’s era but also highlighted how Ripley’s character navigates these spaces in search of identity and transformation. By incorporating these visuals, I tried to draw a parallel between Ripley’s pursuit of his own self-reinvention and Caravaggio’s profound influence on the visual culture of his time, thereby deepening the thematic exploration of both the miniseries and the artist’s work. Again, this focus on character wasn’t overtaken even in scenes with a Caravaggio in the background.
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In contrast to the 2024 remake of The Crow, which faltered due to its emphasis on CGI overstory, the various adaptations of Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr. Ripley have succeeded by prioritizing character depth and narrative nuance. Each film adaptation—whether featuring Alain Delon, Matt Damon, or Andrew Scott—has focused on the intricate psychological portrait of Tom Ripley, ensuring that the core themes of identity, deception, and moral ambiguity remain central to the story. By investigating Ripley’s complex character and maintaining a strong connection between narrative and character development, these adaptations have captured the essence of Highsmith’s novel, demonstrating that a compelling story and rich character exploration are crucial for a successful remake. This focus on substantive storytelling over visual effects has allowed each version to bring new dimensions to Ripley’s character while honouring the original narrative’s power.
The irony of incorporating extensive computer graphics into a film, which is inherently a visual medium, lies in the fact that such visual enhancements often detract from the core elements of character and narrative. While CGI can create striking imagery, it paradoxically undermines the film’s emotional and psychological depth by overshadowing the complexities of character development. This overemphasis on spectacle at the expense of storytelling results in a less compelling movie, revealing that the true power of cinema lies not just in its visuals but in the intricate portrayal of characters and the richness of the narrative.
This image was one of the first that I created in midJourney. I uploaded it to Luma and was able to quickly animate it. The rain was added as well in post-production.
I created a series of “Caravaggio” paintings in midJourney for my presentation at the Marconi Centre last week. Some came out rather well. I took those images and then animated them in both Pika and Runway. Not bad results although the interpolation is very “creamy” and human forms morph and degrade in some rather interesting ways.
Kiln, Palomar and Frog. I cannot really describe how good all the food that I ate was. From the fish and chips to the street Thai food, everything was so good. These are the highlights!
Kiln was so good. I was speaking with a couple out front before it opened and opted to sit kitchen side after hearing their recommendation. Someone else said eat the glass noodles and they were so good. The ox heart was surprisingly tasty and that kale disk had no right being as good as it was.
Palomar’s cuisine was also so good. Middle Eastern and the various dips, sauces, and vegetables were just so damn tasty. I savoured each and every bite. The kitchen was nothing but hot coals and clay pots. My mouth was on fire with the hot spices and I was there for it!
Frog was a spectacular experience! I was sitting kitchen side so it was great being served by chef. He explained each dish as he served and the storytelling was almost as good as the food. Almost. His philosophy of sustainability and how he wants to redefine food “waste” is intriguing to say the least. The whole experience was amazing and the attention to detail was exceptional. Down to the take away box of sweets.
I was spoiled for choice in London and I cannot wait to get back and enjoy more.
Today was Westminster Abbey and La Boheme! Westminster Abbey is a beautiful space! There was a cool augmented reality exhibition about the reconstruction of Notre Dame in Paris. You walked around with an iPad and used QR codes to visit information packages about the fire and the history of the church. La Boheme was fantastic. All three shows at the Royal Opera House were just incredible. The first few photos are from the window of my hotel room with the Shard in the distance.
I’m pretty sure that this was the first day that I was feeling less jet lagged. I was so happy with my hotel choice. The Clermont at Charring Cross was located so perfectly that I was able to access everything that I wanted. I think the furthest that I went was the Tate Modern but even that was only 25 minutes or so away.
I visited the Roman Mithraeum which I loved. I walked past St. Paul’s which is quite an architectural specimen, as were many of the buildings in the area. I was on my way to an archaeological exhibit on the site of a roman temple from 2 millennium ago. The cult of Mithras was imported to Rome and the Zoroastrian heritage is still present. From there I crossed the Millennium Bridge where my seat mate from the ballet the night before had mentioned that I could find some “micro art” on the foot bridge. Sure enough, there were hundreds! I walked the southern shore line and was hoping for a good photo with the reflections in the water.
I was going to a presentation at the University of London in the evening, it was a book launch for a new title Legacies of Migration and a few of the chapter authors were there to discuss their topics. One of them was about Van Gogh and his year in London in his early 20s. The main thesis is, as you can imagine, that migration is a constant in London and the city benefits from its multicultural past and present. I spent the afternoon at the British Museum which is beside the building with the lecture hall.
Did I mention that I was tired? London is just such an exciting city. There is so much to see and explore! I went in search of the Noses of SoHo. I ended up finding 4… or 3 and a nail before I grabbed lunch and some sweets. Then the National Gallery, for a few hours. The National Gallery collection is like visiting an art history textbook. Room after room of amazing art. Massacio, Rembrandt, della Francesca, and Titian around every corner.
Manon was exquisite! I’m certainly no expert on ballet but I loved it. It was a very moving performance and the entire experience at the Royal Opera House was such a treat.
I was tired by day 2. Excited and tired. Im happy that breakfast was great to start the day. I probably had too much coffee but I had a big day ahead of me! The genesis of my trip was the Philip Guston exhibition at the Tate Modern. It was pretty amazing entering the first room and seeing his paintings in real life. I had only seen the one in the archives downstairs at our own Nation Gallery and its presence is felt with the texture of the brushstrokes and the size of the works. These are his murals and I wandered back and forth, room to room just awed by seeing this collection. I stopped at the Courtald for the Frank Auerbach show of his charcoals. Auerbach’s work that I also saw a few years back at the Tate Britain show is architectural in the way that he applies form, perhaps sculptural is a better word? The Courtald also has an amazing collection of the Impressionists and I lingered in front of the Cezanne for too long perhaps. And after a phenomenal dinner, (I’ll make a separate post just for food photos) I wandered the Parliament district is search of some black and white photo opportunities. My camera loved London.
