“Supernatural” (Season 6, episode 9: “Clap You Hands If You Believe,” CW)

“Supernatural” is a horror series that follows two brothers, Sam (Jared Padalecki) and Dean (Jensen Ackles) Winchester, as they wander the back roads of America in their '67 Chevy Impala, hunting creatures that most people believe only exist nightmares. Armed only with their father's journal on demon hunting, and some gi-normous shotguns, the two brothers take up his crusade to hunt down evil and shoot it.

Season 5 ended with Sam being sucked into Hell while fighting to put Lucifer back in his cage and, in the process, saving the world. Season 6 has brought Sam back from Hell, but without a soul. His state of soullessness has not only reversed the roles of the two brothers, with Dean now being the more sensitive and humane hunter of the pair; it has also created a rift between them. Without a soul, Sam is unable to empathize, lacks impulse control, and basically can’t be trusted as an ally. He is childlike, but in a creepy bad-seed kind of way. It has been a dark season thus far. “Clap Your Hands If You Believe” didn’t ignore this part of the season’s storyline, but it did inject a mega dose of humor into it.

This episode is postmodernism at its finest. The cultural references come so fast and thick, it’s actually hard to keep up, and you want to keep up. The opening credits montage is a grand salute to the “X-files,” ending with the words, “The truth is in here.” As Sam and Dean arrive in Eldon, Indiana to investigate a series of mysterious disappearances, they meet a local woman who tells them that it is the work of fairies. Soulless Sam goes off on her, saying, “Don’t dump your whack-a-doo all over us.” The kinder Dean pulls him away and says, “Hey, it’s not her fault she got the brown acid,” in a delightful insider reference to the documentary “Woodstock.” This show knows its audience.

Dean is abducted from a crop circle while investigating a UFO sighting. As he runs through a cornfield pursued by bright lights he shouts, “Close encounter! Close encounter!” to Sam on his cell phone. Sam escapes, and, as it turns out, crazy brown acid lady is on the money. The ETs are actually fairies. Their search for the escaped Dean gives the show to create their own twisted fairy mythos. They love fresh cream and can be trapped by spilling salt or sugar, because they are compelled to count each grain. A fairy attacks Dean, in a fight scene set to David Bowie's "Major Tom,” and ends with Dean getting the fairy, to explode in the microwave.

When Dean returns, he goes to their hotel to find Sam in bed with a hippie chick that he dubs “Patchouli.” He is, of course, livid. Sam questions Dean about how he should have reacted when his brother was abducted and whether sex with a hippie chick could have been included while he waited for a lead on Dean's whereabouts. Like someone who must learn to walk again after a bad accident, Sam seems to be trying to learn how to be human again. The question is, what is his real agenda? Can you trust the words and actions who has no soul to guide them? And, if having a soul carries such a burden of responsibility with it, is Sam really better off without his? The show seems to hinting that Sam may prefer to remain without his soul, and that without all the messy humanity and emotion getting in the way, he may be a better hunter. Only time will tell.

Grant Wood, American Gothic at The Art Institute of Chicago

Grant Wood’s American Gothic captured the national consciousness from the moment it premiered at The Art Institute in 1930. Since then, it has been parodied, referenced, replicated, and marketed to millions. It is arguably the most recognized painting in the history of American art, and perhaps one of the most recognizable images in the world along with the Mona Lisa. Has the co-option of this famous painting by Green Acres and numerous political cartoonists robbed it of its meaning? Does American Gothic have anything relevant to say to Modern America? Many would say yes, in fact American Gothic has become a plumb line, of sorts, for what constitutes good and hackneyed art. However, a close reading of the painting reveals a commentary on gender roles and American living that is still fresh.

It was the house itself that first inspired Wood and gave the painting its title. The house is of a style called Carpenter Gothic or Rural Gothic, referring to the application of Gothic revival details to wooden structures. In the case of the Eldon Iowa house, it is the pointed-arch window that provides the Gothic detailing.The clean lines of the house establish the theme of simplicity as a spiritual experience that resonates throughout the painting.

The blue sky is so clear that it is without atmosphere, depicting an idealized America, pure in its rural aspect. At the very center of the piece is the farmer’s pitchfork. The fact that the man’s hand is disproportionately large represents his dominion over the land he farms. The image of the pitchfork is repeated in the farmer’s overalls, reinforcing the idea that man’s identity is defined by his profession. Specifically, Grants seems to idealize the business of farming, as vocation rather than profession, a calling that is inborn, like that of the priest or monk.

Under the overalls, the man’s bright white shirt, sports green stripes that perfectly mirror the boards of the house. Man and his land are as one. The farmer looks directly at us, the wrinkles on his face a map of experience. His expression might seem dour at first, but a closer look reveals a slight quirk in the right eyebrow and a certain tension in the mouth that could be the beginnings of either a scowl or a smile.

The woman's face is less realistic than the man’s; it is oddly geometric as if she were more an abstract representation of rustic feminine ideal. The voluminous apron with its rickrack trim, the prim white collar of her dress, and the cameo at her throat put her in the nineteenth century, the era of the house itself. Her hair is pulled back into a severe bun, except for one strand behind her left ear that hangs in a serpentine curl. This curve is a stark contrast to the straight lines of the rest of the painting. It is a coy tease into the woman's inner life, her imagination escaping the rigid rules of womanhood in rural America and taking her to places she will never actually see. This idea is supported by the fact of her gaze, looking slightly to her left. The cameo she wears, whose rusty red color plays off the clay red color of the barn, is of a young woman holding a flower; perhaps it is this woman's life she dreams about.

The faces of the couple are elongated, like the window between them, reflecting the Gothic ideal. The peaked roof spreads out to point directly to the couple. This emphasizes their closeness to one another and points to the reliant nature of rural life; the scarcity of neighbors makes strong familial relationships doubly important. The way the eaves of the house lead directly into them also underlines the bond between the people and the land they live on. The trees behind the house offer the only relief from the straight up and down lines of the painting. Despite man's best efforts, the wildness of nature can never be completely domesticated, only softened at the edges.

If you strip away the history and the parody, what you find in American Gothic is a complex and compelling commentary on American life that perhaps more germane than it was eighty years ago.

“Almost Famous” (Directed by Cameron Crowe, 2000)

Based upon his own experience as a teenage writer for Rolling Stone magazine, Cameron Crowe’s “Almost Famous” tells the story of sex, drugs, and rock and roll with cotton candy sweetness. However, this is not just a coming-of-age story with a kick-ass soundtrack. It is a snapshot of the brief period of time between the inception of New Journalism, and the establishment of celebrity journalism, as we know it today.

When fifteen year-old William Miller (Patrick Fugit) starts sending the rock reviews he’s written for his high school newspaper to legendary rock critic Lester Bangs (Philip Seymour Hoffman), his life is changed for ever. Bangs sends Miller on an assignment to interview Black Sabbath for Creem magazine that morphs into a gig for Rolling Stone writing about the almost famous band Stillwater. Bangs’ advice to young William: “You cannot make friends with the rock stars,” defines the conflict in the journey that William is about to embark upon.

The scene in which William talks his way backstage in San Diego by knowing the band members' names, and calling out precise compliments at them as they hurry into the arena, illustrates perfectly that a good critic not only needs to be in the right place at the right time; they also have know their stuff. William’s passion for music is the key that unlocks the door to this world.

William is seduced into the lifestyle of rock by the group's guitarist, Russell Hammond (Billy Crudup). He falls in love with “Band Aide,” Penny Lane (Kate Hudson), who is in love with Russell, who is married. “Almost Famous” softens many of the uglier aspects of rock-and-roll life in the Seventies. Even the scene in which Penny Lanes overdoses on Quaaludes is set to gorgeous music.

This would seem to be the point that Bangs is making. If the critic gets too close, too emotionally invested in their subjects, objectivity is impossible. The film’s exploration of Stillwater’s struggle to strike a balance between commercial acceptance and remaining true to one's art parallels William’s responsibility as a critic to counterbalance his friendships with the guys of Stillwater against his function as a journalist.

Although “Almost Famous” gets a little precious at times, like when a band member admits to being gay during a rough flight, it is usually spot-on in its sentiment. William discovers his sister’s parting gift of her record collection, and reads her note in one of them: "This song explains why I'm leaving home to become a stewardess,” is perfection. The song’s lyrics are: "I walked out to look for America,” and the scene not only sums up the mood of the era; it describes the emotive impact of rock music.

The brilliant casting is a large part of appeal of “Almost Famous.” Patrick Fugit as William is a smiling Buddha-child, benignly watching over the band in silence to cover his inexperience. His dream girl Penny Lane makes her way in this world in a similar fashion, and Kate Hudson is lit from within in this role. Frances McDormand as William’s mother does the best she can with what she has to work with; Elaine is one of the few characters in the film that is sorely underdeveloped. Phillip Seymour Hoffman, as Lester Bangs, is the penultimate affable ass.

The quality of light, the slightly washed out color of the film, heightens the feeling the movie was actually made during the era when it is supposed to be happening. The soundtrack is nothing less than awesome. It is more than a feel-good movie. It is a movie that feels good.