'Firefly' Fridays: 'Mal Makes Everybody Cry... He's Like a Monster'

Honestly, I don't see what Mal's so peeved about. Saffron's a lovely girl...

Kermit the Frog Toys With My Emotions While Looking for a 'Needle in the Hay'

I'm not sure how to feel about this clip. It provokes a bouillabaisse of emotions: comfort, nostalgia, sadness, laughter, astonishment. I'm torn between giddily running around the office looking for someone to show this to and looking for someone to give me a hug.

The dudes (or dudettes) behind this went so far as to both multi-track Kermit's vocals to match the original Elliott Smith version and shoot this in a way that partially mirrors the scene in The Royal Tenenbaums that so memorably used "Needle in the Hay."

Which trailer looks better: 'Dark Knight' or 'Indiana Jones'?

If you went to see Iron Man this past weekend, odds are you saw the full trailers for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and The Dark Knight, two sequels I couldn't be more excited to see. But after taking in what I was sure was going to be a double-barrelled shot of unvarnished awesomeness, I came away a little bit — to borrow from Dark Knight's Harvey Dent — of two minds.

The Indy trailer gave me exactly what that first spot failed to: a sense of respect for my love of the character. I didn't need to be reminded who Indiana Jones was, I just needed to see him bring the derring do. This time around, they nailed it — more info about the crystal skull, more Marian, and more running-and-jumping-and-blowing-stuff-up from a spry Harrison Ford. (There were dudes in the theater who applauded after the trailer ended. I was too busy GRINNING.)

On the other hand, The Dark Knight also gave us more--more of the story, more of the cast besides Heath Ledger--but I came away less impressed. It was less evocative than the first trailer; less thematic. I've still got a lot of faith that Christopher Nolan will deliver a splendid flick — Aaron Eckhart's Harvey Dent looked especially promising (considering that the character had been played previously by both Billy Dee Williams and Tommy Lee Jones, he's got no place to go but up). But for me, these two were very much a case of one step forward, two steps back. (And, yes, you singing "Opposites Attract" is my own cruel Joker-y parting gift.)

What did you think? Still as jazzed as ever about these movies, or a little more cautious? And which one are you more stoked to see?

Breakouts that broke down

I was scanning through the armpit of my cable last night, and I came upon Ghost Rider, that very lamentable Nicolas Cage movie of last year. You remember: It came out in February and made a fortune, but no one you know will admit to have seeing it? That's the one.

Anyway, I'm watching and who should pop on screen but Wes Bentley (pictured), who broke out so memorably as the plastic-bag-filming teen in American Beauty and then promptly fizzled away into the entertainment ether... only to pop up as a clichéd demonic villain in a shoddy comic book flick. And it got me thinking about other breakouts that broke down: other movie stars that made a big splash, showed incredible promise, and then ended up in bargain-bin fodder.

I'll give you two more: Chris O'Donnell (he of Scent of a Woman and Batman & Robin, and not much since, besides some TV guest gigs) and Mira Sorvino (who won an Oscar in '96 for Mighty Aphrodite and then slipped off the map after 1999's Summer of Sam, popping up most recently in an episode of House).

Who else do you think fits the bill? Who lit up the sky for a brief, shining moment and promptly disappear before their true potential could be realized?

'Firefly' Fridays: I Need A Hero

Why? Because I was feeling a little musical...

(Yes, that's two Jayne-centric clips in a row. So? Besides, this episode was written by the great madman Ben Edlund, who created The Tick. Which is almost as awesome as Firefly. The animated version, that is. As you were.)

'Firefly' Fridays: This is my rifle, this is my gun. This one's for fighting...

For Mr. Jayne Cobb (the consistently, criminally underrated Adam Baldwin), happiness is, indeed, a warm gun...

New York Comic Con: How I learned to stop worrying and love hosting 'Battletar Galactica' panels

On Saturday afternoon, I moderated my second panel featuring an assortment of stars from the Sci Fi Channel's Battlestar Galactica — which is, now that The Wire is over, officially the best show on television. (That kind of smoke-up-the-hoo-hah blowing is precisely why they keep asking me back. Because they mustn't be reading my occasionally scathing TV Watches.)

It went much better than my first, which was "The Women of Battlestar Galactica" at last year's San Diego Comic Con. Why? Because last time, I Freudian-slipped up and introduced Lucy Lawless as a man. Which, if you couldn't surmise, most women and all former Xenas don't take kindly to. (If you care to see Ms. Lawless flip me the bird in front of 7,000 people, just scan about 20 minutes into this — and pay no attention to the idiot behind the mic. Bounce over here for the explanation as to why I called her a man. There's totally a legitimate reason. Honest.)

Moderating a panel like this is more than just avoiding boneheaded gaffes. It's not a time for hardcore investigative journalism. Whoever is on the panel — and this time, I had three of the final five Cylons (Michael Trucco, Rekha Sharma, and Michael Hogan, pictured) — can't answer the tough questions. And the last thing I want is for them to get stone-lipped and reticent in front of a packed house. Silence is deadly. So I've gotta offer them questions that they can answer at length while being both interesting and non-revelatory. In other words, cheat the crowd without them being upset about it.

Click through the jump for some of my favorite questions.

'Firefly' Fridays: Wash it like you mean it

Okay, so sue me. I like to watch this scene. You know, because Ron Glass is so good as Shepherd Book. That's totally why.

A Magical, Mystical Movie Moment Tour

I was up late last night —€” chest cold-induced insomnia —€” and I happened to stumble across Pulp Fiction on some deep-on-the-dial cable channel. I've seen that movie at least 20 times, but since I couldn't sleep anyway, I kept it on. When we got to the Jack Rabbit Slim's dance contest, I propped myself up a bit — €”I'd forgotten just how magical a scene that is.

Part of it is how well-written it is, of course, but what really blows the doors off that scene is John Travolta. Dancing. Remember, when Pulp Fiction came out, he hadn't had his comeback yet. He hadn't worn out the "welcome back" we were happy to give him. He hadn't gone on to make The Punisher, Wild Hogs, or, that perennial punchline, Battlefield Earth. He hadn't done those awful things with his hair. He was just a faded icon, reaching for the life preserver that Quentin Tarantino threw him. But when he started to dance, when the old hip-swinger took off his shoes and found his groove, the screen just hummed with some kind of cinematic alchemy: a simple scene was transformed through nostalgia, through collective audience memory, into a mystical, magical movie moment.

This one in Pulp Fiction may be my favorite, but I've still got a lot of love for Jaws (where Chief Brody and his son are at the dinner table, and the kid mimics everything his worn-down dad does) and Pretty Woman (Julia Roberts' laugh when the jewelry box snaps at her fingers). What are yours?

'Firefly' Fridays: Two for the price of none

Because of the love I have for each and every one of you, here are two clips to send you into the weekend. What you do with them is between you and your deity of choice.

The other clip is after the jump.