Meh-Fest: 'The Power of Six'

This review was originally published on The Film Yap.

I didn't see "I Am Number Four." I was vaguely intrigued by Dianna Agron as the love interest, as she is quite possibly one of the prettiest women on Earth. However, the movie looked like every other young-adult sci-fi wannabe out there.
 I also didn't read the New York Times-bestselling novel on which "I Am Number Four" was based. That said, I'm a sucker for young-adult fiction. When the Yap was sent a review copy of "The Power of Six," the sequel to "I Am Number Four," I decided to take a crack at it.

 The verdict? I wasn't exactly depressed, but I was far from impressed.

"The Power of Six" continues the story of John Smith, who is part of an alien race of nine young people sent to Earth when their home planet is overtaken by evil forces, living in hiding throughout the world with assigned adult guardians. When the first three were hunted and killed by the evil forces, John (Number Four) had to make some difficult decisions and eventually go on the run with the female Number Six and his best friend Sam, whose father was a human ally to the race and mysteriously disappeared.

The book has two parallel stories: John, Six and Sam's cross-country travels and combat training in the States, and Marina (aka Number Seven), undercover in a Spanish convent school and discovering her own unique abilities (called Legacies, which develop when the individual needs them most).

Though "The Power of Six" is a sequel, catching up on important plot points isn't an issue: Everything a new reader needs to know is scattered throughout the book. Action pops off nearly every page, and the relationships — Marina's struggle with her now-reluctant adult guardian; John's conflicting feelings for Six and for Sarah, the girl he left behind; John and Sam's mourning for their lost father figures — are never boring. Technically, Pittacus Lore (a pen name that figures into the book prominently) does everything right.

And yet, I was never completely drawn into this fictional world. Though I kept turning pages, I couldn't bring myself to care about the characters. Like standout series such as "The Hunger Games" and "Harry Potter," "The Power of Six" seeks to create a parallel universe with oddly named characteristics but grounded-in-reality issues. Unlike these other series, "The Power of Six" has drier prose and slower pacing, which contributes to a sense of distance from its characters and conflicts. Yes, it's cool that John can illuminate things with his hands and Marina can breathe underwater, but why should I root for them?

Clearly, the author wants "The Power of Six" to transition to the silver screen. The novel has a cinematic quality: long on action and dialogue, short on description. I don't know if "I Am Number Four" did well enough at the box office to warrant a sequel. I do know I wouldn't pay $12 to see it.

"The Power of Six" is now available in print and ebook.

An Open Dear John Letter to Glee

Dear Glee,

I won't beat around the bush: we're breaking up.

I was so excited for you in the beginning.  I first met you in spring of 2008, I read a script of the pilot courtesy of my friend Bob.  Believe it or not, Sue Sylvester wasn't even a character in it!  Even when Bob didn't get the role, we were still awaiting you with bated breath.  "This show is going to be huge," I said.

And you were.  Despite some decidedly silly plotlines which shall remain nameless (*cough* fakepregnancy *cough*), to paraphrase Damn Yankees, you had heart.  Miles and miles and miles o' heart.  And some things you were hitting on the mark.  A nerdy, insecure girl who wasn't nerdy and insecure because she had glasses and liked math (like every other nerd cliche), but an obsession with musical theatre and a whole lot of other issues.  Two friends of the same sex who admitted they experimented sexually with one another, as many real teens do.  A gay kid struggling with coming out, but not with his rough-around-the-edges father, who loved and accepted him all along.  I'm STILL getting tears in  my eyes thinking about it!

Also, the talent!  Lea Michele and Matthew Morrison, two performers I'd enjoyed for years thanks to OBC's (Original Broadway Cast recordings for the cooler-than-I) and YouTube, finally getting their due in exposure and paychecks way better than the stage could provide.  Dianna Agron, able to handle a difficult pregnancy storyline while always looking gorgeous.  Heather Morris, funny with one-liners and fierce with choreography.  And Mike O'Malley, who'd been languishing in dumb sitcoms, in a dramatic and emotional turn that always, always felt real.

And then season 2 happened.

True to my prediction, you DID become huge, Glee.  Huger than I ever expected, blowing up iTunes, selling DVD's like hotcakes, and going on a tour that was attended by people of every age.  And I think it went to your head.

Granted, there have been some fun episodes this season.  I loved "Duets," and "Sectionals" had a season 1 feel about it, in that it actually cared about the consistency of the characters--plus it showcased players who don't get to sing quite as much.  I also appreciated the additions of Sam and Blaine, in more ways than one.  Dayum.

But the inconsistency!  Oh, the inconsistency!

Just as I had to eventually let go of my ex because I couldn't take the emotional ups-and-downs, I can't invest my time and energy with a show so incredibly frustrating.  To wit: why does Terri only pop up once every seven episodes?  Why is Mr. Schu now just a douche on the sidelines 93% of the time?  Am I really supposed to believe Kurt will go back to McKinley, when I've never known a bullied kid to return to the scene of the bullying once he/she has escaped?  And just when did Rachel change from a relatable chick who, while sometimes annoying, just wanted to be understood to a shrill harpy who sent her rival to a crackhouse?

(Because I still care for you, Glee, we will not begin to discuss the abominable Britney Spears butt-licking, the Rocky Horror that was only rocky-horrifying in that a GIRL played Frank N. Furter, and the terrible, terrible, one-dimensional-even-for-you, looks-like-a-40-year-old-porn-star Santana.  I hate Santana.  Please kill her.  Not the actress, who I'm sure is very nice, but the character.  Ditto Emma Pillsbury and her rage-inducing baby voice.  Though I do like her wardrobe.)

I can't do it, Glee.  Just like I can no longer wait for my ex's infrequent texts, I can't wait by the TV in hopes that you'll go back to the show you used to be.

In the halcyon days of your first season, I wrote a blog post doubling as a love letter to a show encapsulating what I wish high school would have been like for me--not the pregnancy stuff, but the breaking into perfectly choreographed numbers--while also capturing what it WAS like for me, as the ambitious wannabe star who sometimes went too far but got far more crap from her peers than she deserved.

Glee, I can't promise we can be what we once were, but in the interest of your own self-improvement, you might want to reread that postletter.

I wish you well.  But right now, I have to Slushie you.

Love,
Unpro