‘Intruders’: TV Review

Millie Brown may not be who she appears to be in “Intruders,”

A very creepy and entertaining series about body snatchers.

Saturday, 10 p.m. (BBC America)

Glen Morgan (based on the book by Michael Marshall Smith)

John Simm, Mira Sorvino, James Frain, Millie Brown

Eduardo Sanchez

Even before seeing a frame of Intruders, all the ideas sounded good. For starters, you have writer and creator Glen Morgan (The X-Files) getting to make a real X-Files-style show. That’s a good thing. And, since so many actors seem to be British these days, it seemed extra clever that this BBC America series, which takes place in the Pacific Northwest, chose to use a bunch of British actors but have them play Americans. Everybody gets it. So let’s play.

And after having watched the first two hours of the eight-part limited series directed by Eduardo Sanchez (The Blair Witch Project), I can confirm that Intruders is spooky and riveting, a paranormal thriller as addictive as anything on television. It set the hook within minutes and never looked back.

The series, beginning Saturday, is yet another that you must add to your list. With Morgan in charge, you can feel assured that all the weirdness he’s getting at in the service of the story will ultimately pay off (there’s been a promise that it does), which allows you to just go with it as the story unfolds.

Because Intruders isn’t messing around when it comes to mythology.

Early on, it’s difficult to pick up where the series is going or what its endgame is. But that’s at least half the fun, since Morgan makes it intriguing from the get-go and the visuals are never less than cinematic and haunting.

Basically, Intruders is about body snatchers and the need to stay immortal. How people are taking over bodies is not immediately clear. Do people pay to be someone else after they pick that someone? And does that someone who is about to lose his or her own body and personality know it’s coming? And when the time is up — there seems to be a limit to how long a body can be used — it’s time to get out or get cleaned up, because Intruders has an assassin named Richard Shepherd (James Frain) cleaning up all the loose ends no matter how many people he has to take out in the process.

Oh, and everybody seems to carry a card with the number 9 on it. And, in case you hadn’t guessed already, not everything is what it seems. For added mystery, some allegiances might be changing.

Based on the book of the same name by British writer Michael Marshall Smith, Intruders starts off with former LAPD cop Jack Whelan (John Simm) enjoying his modernist house with his lovely wife, Amy (Mira Sorvino). They’re in the Pacific Northwest and the stress levels should all be dialed down except that, well, Amy is acting pretty odd. Meanwhile, in another seemingly peaceful enclave, a little 9-year-old girl named Madison (the phenomenal Millie Brown) could be having her body snatched (either that or she’s just in a bad mood), but she’s going on the lam from the aforementioned assassin — and this end run (which leads to Chinatown) is a compelling bit of weirdness.

Oh, and apparently all intruders are not the same. In one early scene, the assassin wipes out a mother and her young son. No explanation. Except maybe they knew too much. People do know something is amiss, because a fringe group of believers is spreading its message on pirate radio, hoping to convince the masses or anyone who likes podcasts. Or maybe the mother-son combo was a situation where their time was simply up. 

There are any number of murders and deaths in Intruders. The paranormal activity doesn’t just exist in our current time; history, plus a secret society called Qui Reverti that goes back for ages, play a part. “Because in the beginning, there was death” is an important — and freaky — line.

The answers will come from watching. 

Credit Morgan, the original source material of the book (there is some deviation, according to Morgan) and BBC America for crafting an instantaneously addictive piece of television. I haven’t seen the entirety of it, but find myself, as you might, wanting to binge through the rest of it at a frantic pace, while keeping one eye out for the supposedly sweet little girl and another for the assassin.

I’m all in. A good summer gets better.

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Amazon’s ‘The Cosmopolitans,’ ‘Red Oaks’ and ‘Really’: TV Review

The third wave of Amazon’s partly crowdsourced pilot development slate kicked off on Thursday with five new options for people who are also looking for vacuums and watches.

OK, sure, that’s an easy joke, and customers who laughed at it also laughed at the nearly identical one I made last time. But there’s no getting around the fact that Amazon Studios takes a little getting used to, even though its last round of pilots were strikingly impressive. Not counting the children’s programming, Amazon greenlighted Transparent, Mozart In the Jungle, Bosch and The After, four scripted series I liked (particularly Transparent and Mozart).

Each passing day in the rapidly changing world of television makes it less odd that high-quality content is coming from places like a gigantic online retailer, so perhaps nothing should surprise. And even though it’s not exactly clear what kind of audience feedback metrics go into Amazon Studio actually choosing which pilots to pick up, it’s certainly encouraging that the altogether different Transparent and Mozart made the last cut, along with the more conventional Bosch and the paranormal-influenced The After.

Because of that, there’s certainly hope for three of the comedies Amazon Studios put online for anyone to watch on Thursday. A reminder: It’s impossible to review merely one episode of a television series with any real accuracy about its future or even the tone of what you’ll see in the next episode, so caveats all around.

The Cosmopolitans

Whit Stillman (Metropolitan, Barcelona, The Last Days Of Disco) has a penchant for the esoteric and the studied, and The Cosmopolitans doesn’t disappoint along those lines. It’s as dryly first world in its problems and scenarios as Stillman’s previous efforts, focusing this time on group of young American expatriates trying to find themselves in Paris. That doesn’t necessarily scream mainstream, but as I just noted, there’s really no telling what Amazon will pick up. I have a predisposition to love all things Stillman, so I really liked the pilot, but will be especially interested to see what newbies to his style will think of it.

The series stars Adam Brody, Carrie MacLemore, Chloe Sevigny, Dree Hemingway, Freddy Asblom, Jordan Roundtree and Adriano Giannini and like any good Stillman effort, it’s beautifully shot (he wrote, directed and produced), and the dialogue is mannered and replete with staccato observations that in turn produce similarly idiosyncratic replies. It’s a shock that Stillman didn’t use Vampire Weekend as a house band.

There’s not much plot to tell: Strangers meet strangers and go to parties and chat, with a little forward movement that hints the gang will be together for more adventures of an ill-defined but stylized nature. The pilot is less ambiguous than ethereal, but if you’re a Stillman aficionado then you’re probably all in. Other Amazon voters will be the intriguing X factor.

Red Oaks

This entry was particularly fun for its retro appeal and breezy humor about coming of age. Written by Gregory Jacobs (The Knick) and Joe Gangemi (Eliza Graves), and directed by David Gordon Green (Pineapple Express, Eastbound and Down), Red Oaks takes place at the Red Oaks Country Club in suburban New Jersey circa 1985. David Myers (Craig Roberts) is a college freshman whose CPA father, Sam (Richard Kind), wants him to embrace accounting because then he can graduate and do taxes for all the rich people at the club where he works as an assistant tennis pro. But his father’s has a heart attack — it’s nonfatal, though the words he says when he thinks he’s dying, that he’s never loved David’s mother (played by Jennifer Grey) and that maybe she’s a lesbian, are revelations that keep poor David unsure of what path to take in life.

Life at Red Oaks turns out to be a lot of fun — enough to put off thinking about the hardships of life ahead. The pilot hints that his girlfriend, Karen (Gage Golightly), and her dreams of a modeling career and a suburban lifestyle, may not be David’s dream; his eye wanders to Skye (Alexandra Socha), who loathes the country club lifestyle but is the daughter of corporate raider named Getty (Paul Reiser). Elsewhere, the club is populated with pot-smoking, fun-loving ’80s kids just trying to enjoy life. Notable characters include Wheeler (Oliver Cooper) and the slightly older Nash (Ennis Esmer) as the philandering (and funny) head tennis pro.

Again, I’d need to see more, but the pilot sets up the worldview here nicely.

Really

Here is one of those pilots that scream out for more episodes in order to determine whether or not the idea will work. Written, directed and starring Jay Chandrasekhar, Really is a Chicago-set look at four couples and the struggles of marriage, friendship and happiness. Writing solely about marriage (and a couple of stray relationships in the group) is a difficult task because it’s been done to death.

But Really finds some success starting off as a comedy and edging more into darker territory. It has a strong cast, with the always likable Sarah Chalke playing Lori, wife of Chandrasekhar’s Jed. They immediately have more chemistry and believability than most TV couples, with Chandrasekhar’s low-key vibe and subtle humor blending well with Chalke’s biting side. Selma Blair, Travis Schuldt, Hayes MacArthur, Collette Wolfe, Luka Jones, Lindsay Sloane and Rob Delaney also star. By the end of this pilot, which features a twist, some depressing but familiar problems among longtime friends and enough time to really take to Chandrasekhar and Chalke, I wanted to see more of Really even though what I saw wasn’t particularly groundbreaking.

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The Emmy Awards: TV Review

After Emmy voters had one of their worst years ever in the nominating process, Monday’s ceremony ultimately came down to whether they’d at least get the winners right. And, as is custom, whether the host — in this case, Seth Meyers — and the telecast itself, could entertain.

In one hell of a weird, head-scratching awards show, Meyers was very good, the actual telecast held it together for most of the night and Breaking Bad got the sendoff it so richly deserved. But there was a lot of stink in the air as well.

Winners were all over the map, including an embarrassing rubber-stamping of Modern Family in too many categories. Repeat winners were everywhere, a sometimes painful reminder that Emmy voters have serious lag-time issues in uncovering bright new things in their own industry.

But since so many of these Emmy reviews in recent years have been (justifiably) bitter affairs, let’s start with the positives: Meyers was funny the majority of the night. While he didn’t deliver searing, belly laugh-inducing jokes (Jimmy Kimmel and Ricky Gervais did, with Jimmy Fallon, late in the evening, helping Stephen Colbert make up for a terrible bit), Meyers was affable and steady and kept the banter light and upbeat. Meyers is slyly proficient at getting consistent chuckles with whatever he does, so it was nice to see him nail it under pressure for the most part. It’s not an easy job, and he ultimately gets high marks.

The show itself was also thankfully light on filler, the curse that bloats and ruins most awards shows — and especially the Emmys in years past. It had a surprisingly strong pace, and many of the elements worked well: Bryan Cranston and Julia Louis-Dreyfus with a call-back kiss to Seinfeld; Meyers letting stars ask intentionally bad Emmy questions; Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson bantering; Amy Poehler and Meyers bantering; Meyers and Billy Eichner on the streets of New York; fine, fun or touching acceptance speeches (Steven Moffat, Julianna Margulies, Aaron Paul, Ryan Murphy); a beautiful In Memoriam segment that concluded with an extended ode to Robin Williams from Billy Crystal. Overall, the batting average on this Emmys was much higher than last year.

But director Glenn Weiss, who earlier won his own Emmy for directing the Tony Awards, also misjudged whom to play off in the early and middle stages, which resulted in the unfortunate rushing off of winners at the end. This is a befuddling problem that seems to afflict all directors of awards shows, and it’s not so difficult to fix. Do you really want to play off Breaking Bad, which just won the highest honor in your industry?

Speaking of, there was the not-insignificant run from Breaking Bad during the telecast: Paul and Anna Gunn winning for best supporting actor and actress, Moira Walley-Beckett winning for best writing in a drama series, Cranston winning for best actor — all in addition to the ultimate prize of best drama series. Every one of those was deserved, but also came against very strong competition that many pundits favored for victory. So the string of Breaking Bad wins in many ways was a reflection of Emmy voters sticking with the people who created one of the best series in TV history.

That would be admirable if it didn’t look like the same kind of lazy rubber-stamping that let Modern Family rack up three major victories itself, including a record-tying fifth win for best comedy. The difference? Breaking Bad retained its consistent excellence — acting, writing, importance — throughout its run. Modern Family, however, has gone from a great series to a good one, surpassed by a number of other shows. It’s not just embarrassing for Emmy voters to appear oblivious to anything new; it detracts from the hard-earned consistency of something like Breaking Bad.

Elsewhere, Emmy voters shocked a ton of observers by going in heavy for Sherlock and stunningly light for True Detective, Orange Is the New Black, Fargo and the supposed Emmy-magnet HBO movie The Normal Heart.

It was a night of weirdness from the start, with Ty Burrell winning for supporting actor when Andre Braugher or Tony Hale seemed far more likely. FX’s Louie won for writing, which seemed to put the telecast back on course, only to raise eyebrows when Allison Janney of CBS’ Mom beat out Kate Mulgrew of Netflix’s Orange Is the New Black (the beginning of a bad night for that show). When Modern Family won again, this time for best directing, there was a near meltdown on Twitter (which was nothing compared to when it won for best comedy, easily the most heinous injustice of the night).

Jim Parsons winning — his fourth time! — for lead actor on Big Bang Theory only further fueled the notion that Emmy voters were mailing it in. Not an unfamiliar charge, obviously, but one you’d think they’d have corrected in a decade or two’s time.

The night went on like this, decisions made erratically it seemed — a deserved win in a tough field for Louis-Dreyfus followed by the tenth win for The Amazing Race; Sherlock carrying the miniseries writing category; Kathy Bates trumping Julia Roberts; Sherlock‘s Martin Freeman absolutely stunning a supporting actor field with four nominees from The Normal Heart.

Happy surprises (Sarah Silverman winning for writing in a variety series) were intermingled with the previously identified shockers just in time for eyebrows to be lowered to normal height with wins for Fargo (miniseries), The Normal Heart (TV movie) and True Detective (directing).

Overall, the Emmys this year were inconsistent and weird, though certainly not all bad — just jarring at times.

‘Houdini’: TV Review

A fun but scattered biopic with a zestful and dedicated performance by Adrien Brody

Monday, Sept. 1,  at 9 p.m. on History (conclusion the following night)

Adrien Brody, Kristen Connolly, Evan Jones

Befitting a man as wonderfully strange as Harry Houdini (born Erik Weisz in Budapest in 1874), History’s Houdini miniseries is a curious carousel of the magician’s life, guided by a frizzy-haired, exuberant and bulked-up Adrien Brody.

Framed by a death-defying feat that has Houdini’s life flashing before him, Houdini quickly advertises all that will be revealed over the course of four hours (split into two parts). And reveal it does, taking an unorthodox approach that weaves in surreal and psychological elements, zooming camerawork, frenetic editing, a modern soundtrack and some well-placed animation to illustrate how Houdini’s tricks worked.

Adapted by Nicholas Meyer from the 1976 book Houdini: A Mind in Chains: A Psychoanalytic Portrait (written by his father, Bernard C. Meyer), the miniseries also embraces the fictional by having Houdini narrate via a voiceover that features knowing eye-rollers like: “I would come home but, I’m all tied up.”

Under the direction of Uli Edel (who made 2008 foreign-language Oscar nominee The Baader Meinhof Complex), that voiceover ties together what is otherwise a fast-paced, somewhat scattered storytelling showcase of Houdini’s evolving tricks and trade, as the magician improves his act and grows ever more daring. Many of his most well-known stunts are shown, including the Vanishing Elephant and the Chinese Water Torture Cell, which Brody acts out with infectious zest, fully embracing the part of showman.

Punctuating those tricks are ups and downs in his marriage to wife, Bess (a lovely Kristen Connolly), and episodes that illustrate his dependence on his mother, Cecilia (Eszter Onodi). The miniseries also touches briefly on his shows in Europe — alongside right-hand man Jim Collins (Evan Jones) — during which he meets Kaiser Wilhelm II (Gyula Mesterhazy) and Tsar Nicholas Romanov II (Simon Nader). Speculation that Houdini worked as a spy is presented here as fact, and the showman is seen predicting the Russian Revolution (one of several winking, and mostly unnecessary, historical additions).

Houdini becomes more linear in part two as it chugs along toward Houdini’s final works — and early demise — in a way that feels thematically and visually removed from part one. The focus shifts to personal tragedy, as well as Houdini’s singular obsession with debunking mediums and spiritualists, including Sir Arthur Conan Doyle‘s wife. 

The magician himself once said, “No performer should attempt to bite off red-hot iron unless he has a good set of teeth” — and the maxim is in many ways applicable to this miniseries. Houdini takes a big bite, and its journey is often fun and fantastical, but its goofy sensibilities would have benefited from a sturdier structure, and what it wants its audience to take away from its subject’s life story is unclear.

That said, the miniseries nails the most important thing: spectacle. Edel’s refreshingly dynamic direction and Brody’s buoyant performance allow Houdini’s tricks to retain their wonder, even for the jaded modern viewer. That’s a magical feat indeed. 

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Amazon’s ‘Hand of God’ and ‘Hysteria’: TV Review

Dana Delany and Ron Perlman in Amazon Studio’s “Hand of God.”

You have better options

Currently online at Amazon.com

After posting three good comedies with varying degrees of potential, Amazon Studios has released two dramas that only reinforce the notion that making television is hard, no matter where you make it or how you present it.

Coming out just weeks before the onslaught of network programming and continued cable offerings, the two Amazon Studios efforts do little to create buzz or motivate one to clear space on the DVR. That’s problematic but not unpredictable — most TV fails. (And posting three interesting comedies was no easy feat, so Amazon Studios has that going for it.)  

A reminder: It’s impossible to review merely one episode of a television series with any real accuracy about its future or even the tone of what you’ll see in the next episode, so caveats all around.

Hand of God

This is the stronger of the two Amazon offerings, yet both suffer from having big ideas that take too long to come to fruition in each pilot, and really neither concludes with enough evidence to convince me that the creators have a concrete idea of where they’re going.

Hand of God has a strong cast and an idea that’s intriguing until the credits roll, and there’s no clear notion of where it will head in the second episode (in some instances that’s a great hook; this is not one of those instances). Ron Perlman (Sons of Anarchy) stars as Judge Pernell Harris, who is in the throes of a mental breakdown (at least that’s one theory of what’s happening to him). The series opens with him naked in a public fountain speaking in tongues, and we soon find out that he’s been dubiously “born again” while having this mental breakdown and the fly-by-night preacher that “baptized” him is a con man.

Despite all of that, Harris soldiers on with this notion even when he’s clear-headed about what’s happening to him. He then recruits a “born-again sociopath” named KD (the wonderful Garret Dillahunt) to mete out his vengeance.

See, what started all of this is that some crazed criminal raped Harris’ daughter-in-law while making his son watch. His son later shoots himself in the head and is in a coma, clinically dead. And yet, Harris can hear his son speak to him and so keeps him alive.

All of this worries Harris’ wife, Crystal (Dana Delany), and Harris’ close friend Mayor Robert Boston (Andre Royo), as well it should (it should also worry you, as the viewer). Disassociated voices driving dramas is never a good thing. 

Written by Ben Watkins (Burn Notice) and directed by Marc Forster (Monster’s Ball, Finding Neverland, World War Z), Hand of God struggles to make sense in the pilot. Is Harris just crazy? Is he really somehow getting message from God and acting on them? What kind of God is that? If Harris is just insane and vindictive, then Hand of God has little going for it other than being a TV version of, say, a Charles Bronson film. If Harris is acting as God’s messenger, then that’s also problematic since nobody in this drama is particularly likeable, not even God. Could be an issue.

Hysteria

Executive produced and written by Shaun Cassidy (Invasion, American Gothic) and directed by Otto Bathurst (Peaky Blinders), Hysteria struggles both for lift-off in the pilot and for a hook that will sink itself into you. The premise of this psychological thriller is that we are all susceptible to social media contagions — meaning we could all go crazy, say, from watching something too many times. (It would really be too easy to add jokes here.)

Set in Austin, Texas, the pilot has Mena Suvari (American Beauty, Chicago Fire) as a neurologist who may have some past history with this kind of thing. James McDaniel (NYPD Blue) plays the doctor who brings her onto the case of a bunch of teen dancers having seizures and fits when watching a video. And it spreads. It’s contagious. Laura San Giacomo is here as well, as the chief of police. Unfortunately, it’s hard to imagine that this series will take off unless Amazon voters of a certain age totally believe in social contagions and, expressly, social media contagions. Viral videos being a kind of virus? Physiological reactions through visual overload? It’s a bit of a stretch. OK, a huge stretch. Sure, you can get on board with some of this, but the way its packaged in Hysteria — an hour that sits there, mostly flat — hardly makes you hysterical for another episode.

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Israeli Sitcom Gets Pilot Script Order at ABC

ABC has ordered a pilot script of a remake of hit Israeli sitcom So Where Were We?

Matt Tarses, producer of ABC’s The Goldbergs, has signed on to adapt the Israeli series for the US.

ABC is big on comedies at the moment, and still riding high on the success of Modern Family, which picked up its fifth Emmy for best comedy series Monday. Finding a comedy companion for Modern Family on Wednesday night is one of the network’s primary goals for the coming season.

ABC has experience with adapting Israeli shows. Its primetime singing competition Rising Star is an adaptation of the hit format from Israeli group Keshet.

Tarses will produce So Where Were We? for ABC through his Fanfare Productions shingle together with Sony Pictures Television.

The show, originally titled Israel, is a single-camera scripted cringe comedy series along the lines of Curb Your Enthusiasm. It follows a hapless man, Israel, who is always getting into trouble with his sharp tongue and schemes to save money. The concept of the sitcom has every episode set in a different location, where Israel winds up with his wife, kids and best friend.

Israel Katorza, Ran Levy, Shai Ben Atar, and Roee Florentin created the original series. United Studios of Israel produces the original for Channel 10, where it has been a huge ratings hit, the best-rated comedy on the network.

United Studios brokered the deal for an adaptation with Sony Pictures Television, which shopped So Where Were We? to the US networks.

Lost and Found

 

veryone alive has misplaced their keys, phone, or wallet. If you’re lucky, a few minutes of modern archaeological digging between couch cushions or underneath the car seat will turn up your lost artifact. If you’re less fortunate, your misplaced item may require some traveling.

Tile, which began its life last summer as a very successful Selfstarter campaign, will help in both cases. This small, square-ish device can be placed in, or affixed to, any item you want to keep tabs on. It will attach to a keyring, sit in a wallet, or stick to just about anything—from a laptop to luggage. Using a Bluetooth LE signal and a companion app on your iPhone or iPad, you’re then able to track your item’s whereabouts.

Set-up is simple. Download the free app, press a hidden button on the Tile unit, and place it on top of your iPhone screen. The app recognizes and IDs your Tile. You can assign it to a specific object in the app. All told, you can do this with up to eight Tiles, giving each a name (like “Wallet”) and photo in the app. Once it’s secured to its corresponding object—I chose my wallet— you can visit the app to check where it’s located on a map. Simple.

If the Tile-equipped thing is somewhere in your house, and you can’t find it, you can tap “Find” in the app, and it will emit a melody until you’ve successfully located it. The app also shows you visually if you’re closer or further from the Tile when you’re in range.

In range? Normally, you only have a 50 to 150 foot radius for locating your stuff, since the device operates over Bluetooth LE. So if you leave it on the bus, you’re SOL. Well, kind of. If another Tile user happens to be near your Tile, the system can borrow their Bluetooth connection to update your item’s location for you. In fact, part of the promise of Tile is that as more people adopt it, everyone will get more ubiquitous location tracking. Even if there aren’t other Tile users near your item, the app automatically records where your Tile was when it was last in range.

Tiles won’t last forever though. The battery is designed to last about a year, according to the company, and you’ll get a reminder to order a new one around a year after you activate your new Tile.

If you’re prone to losing things at home or in the office, a device like Tile will certainly make life easier. I tossed it in my wallet, and then basically forgot about it unless I couldn’t remember which room I’d left it in last. Depending on the item(s) you tend to lose, the Tile’s form factor may still be a bit big (it’s far too big to discreetly stick to a pair of sunglasses, for example). Still, $20 is a small price to pay for the peace of mind that comes with being able to track down your misplaced gear. Just don’t lose your iPhone or iPad.

UPDATE, FRIDAY JUNE 13: A previous version of this review incorrectly identified the source of Tile’s crowdfunding. It was funded on Selfstarter.

 

Moisture Minder

Each of Wally’s wireless sensors is about the size of a bar of soap. You get six of them in the kit.  SNUPI Technologies, Inc.

Homeowners have a lot to worry about. Water—whether it’s a flooded basement, an overflowing toilet, leaky pipes, or the mold and mildew that can follow such mishaps—seems to be an ever-present part of these anxieties.

A new product called Wally promises to help mitigate at least some of those fears. Wally is a sensor network you install yourself. It can detect water leaks, small changes in moisture, and temperature fluctuations anywhere in the immediate vicinity of one of its sensors. It’s supposed to give you a heads-up about everything moisture-related, from the severe (water emergencies) to the slow creep (mold build-up on floors, on walls, and in rooms where dampness lays dormant).

The sensors use your web browser as a central monitoring station, but there are also free iOS and Android apps that you can use to set up and manage your sensors. The kit comes with six individual sensors. Each one looks like a lump of soap, and there are small perforations near the bottom where moisture levels and temperature changes are measured. You don’t plug the sensors in. They run on ten-year batteries—like the kind in your wristwatch—so you set each one down in a spot you want to monitor.

A hub connects to your Wi-Fi router, but is only used to communicate with the Internet and your mobile devices. The sensors themselves stay connected by talking to each other over the copper wiring in your walls. They transmit and receive signals wirelessly, basically treating the copper in your home like a giant antenna. During setup, you simply press a button on each sensor and it connects to the other sensors in your home.

I placed a sensor by the toilet in my bathroom, another under my kitchen sink, and a third near my sump pump in the basement. I also identified a few places in the home where mold has been a problem. In the web-based admin, I labeled the location of each sensor (“Bathroom,” “Kitchen”), then entered my e-mail address and phone number so I could get the alerts. The WallyHome interface on the web is clear and helpful, and the entire install process took less than 15 minutes. It’s amazingly simple, and the instructional materials in the packaging make it perfectly clear about what you are supposed to do.

Wally’s iOS app.  SNUPI Technologies, Inc.

Finally, I installed the Wally app on my iPhone 5s, which showed all of my sensor locations and the status of each unit.

Then, I started pouring cups of water on the floor. Not directly on the sensors, but near them. Within about five minutes, a text message popped up that the bathroom sensor had detected moisture. Another alert showed up a few seconds later for the kitchen sink. I poured water on a napkin on plate, then slid the wet mess under the sensor on the floor of the laundry room. I got an alert within a few minutes. All of the alerts appeared with no problems when I did these controlled tests. I was impressed.

Once, an alert told me the connection to my sump pump sensor had failed. I trekked downstairs, hit the button again on the sensor, and it reconnected. There were no other problems. The sensors are supposed to last ten years on the included batteries, and seem durable enough.

Connected-home devices are still rather new, and there are few standards, so devices can’t easily talk to each other yet. Furthermore, most of the moisture-alert devices are too expensive for households on a budget. I’ve also tested the Vivint Flood and Freeze Sensor, which installs next to your sump pump and detects water build-up. That sensor costs $120 but requires pro install, and the Vivint service costs about $50 per month. Another product called the WaterCop goes a step further: the sensor can send a wireless signal to a valve controller that shuts off the main water line. The cheapest version (as in, the one that fits the smallest pipe) costs a little under $400; that price includes only one sensor.

But Wally is within reach of most homeowners. A relatively modest $300 gets you the kit with six sensors, and you can buy more for $35 each. There are no monthly charges, plus you get free tech support and install it yourself. Even compared to a packaged connected home system like Vivint, it’s well worth the expense if it saves you from a flood, the dangers of mold, or a leak in the biffy.

The company behind Wally claims to be working on new machine-learning tech that could sense temperature changes, humidity trends, and other factors that could help with home maintenance and could be used for early mold detection. Eventually, its plans to release more products that tap into the same central hub and apps, all communicating over copper wiring. Your walls, talkin’ to ya. Imagine that.

An Iconic Speaker That’s Re-Engineered for Streaming Music

It may look similar to the original 1974 version, but inside the new OD-11 things have changed quite a bit.

Teenage Engineering’s OD-11 speaker has been stuck in “coming soon” limbo for a couple years now. After appearing at the past two Consumer Electronic Shows, blowing a Summer 2013 launch date, and going on pre-order last fall, this white block of almost-vaporware finally materialized at the MoMa Design Store in New York last week. And while you won’t need to be a Scandinavian audiophile to enjoy this Swedish speaker, you will need a sufficiently padded bank account.

First, some history. Stig Carlsson isn’t a household name here in the U.S., but a generation of Hi-Fi-oriented Swedes grew up buying and listening to his speakers. Working for Sonab, the audio engineer designed some remarkable (and truly weird looking) speakers during the ’60s and ’70s. Some were shaped like cannons; others had curved tweeter arrays and strange woofer configurations. These designs were all informed by the audio engineer’s (still controversial) philosophy, which basically amounts to this: Loud speakers should be made and tuned for real-world listening rooms, not some perfectly dampened anechoic environment. Carlsson called this ortho acoustics, and crafted his speakers to spew sound in all directions, purposefully bouncing it off couches, walls, ceilings, and other modern day furnishings.

Rather than shooting sound straight up, both the woofer and the tweeter are angled at about 45-degrees.

In 1974, Sonab released what ended up being the smallest of Carlsson’s up-firing, omni-directional speakers. It was called the OD-11. It had one woofer and one tweeter, both of which were recessed angled at about 45-degrees toward one corner. The speaker could placed on the floor, mounted to a wall, or used on a bookshelf. People absolutely loved it, and tens of thousands were sold in Sweden alone between 1974 and 1978.

When Teenage Engineering, the Stockholm-based collective behind one of the coolest synthesizers you can buy, decided to make a speaker more suited to streaming music, the OD-11 instantly came to mind. Working with the Stig Carlsson Foundation (who owns the rights to his designs), they proceeded to give the old “Carlsson Cube” a modern overhaul.

While it looks largely the same from the outside, this new version comes with a few notable internal reworkings. There’s an integrated 100-watt analog Class-D amplifier, Wi-Fi, Bluetooth 4 LE, a new U-shaped bass reflex duct (for added low-end performance), as well as an entirely new way of interacting with, and playing music through, the speaker.

Setting everything up couldn’t be easier. You plug the OD-11 into an outlet, flip a toggle switch on the bottom to one of three positions, find the speaker on your Wi-Fi network, and connect. All of this can be accomplished with either the free Orthoplay iOS app or an online browser-based version. It took me about a minute.

The Orthoplay app interface is simple and intuitive. It’s also free for iOS.

So does this re-engineered icon still live up to the high standard its ancestor set? You bet your Swedish meatballs, it does. Like the original, the new OD-11 is wonderfully open sounding. So long as you follow Teenage Engineering’s advice and place the speaker so that its woofer and tweeter are pointed out to toward the center of the room (there’s an LED dot to help you), the little guy spits out consistently uncolored and pleasantly expansive sound regardless of where you sit in the room. Actually, let me qualify that: So long as you stream or play high-quality music to the OD-11, you’ll get great results. It’s actually pretty unforgiving to low-res music. Much of that is because it doesn’t have the overly exaggerated bass that a lot of other wireless speakers have, which can mask poor recordings and overly compressed digital files.

I auditioned two albums I’ve been listening to semi-obsessively to on headphones, desktop nearfield speakers, and my home theater system to see how the mono OD-11 setup fared. To get a sense of its dynamic range, first I queued up the Swans’ To Be Kind. Thankfully, Michael Gira’s persistent barks and howls remained as menacing as ever, and the album’s oscillating waves of noise and percussive chaos never managed to distort the small speaker regardless of how much I cranked the volume. It obviously wasn’t the same as listening to the album sitting perfectly between a pair of tower speakers, but for a tiny, unobtrusive cube you stick in the corner or on a shelf, the OD-11 filled the room admirably.

Ditto on the fuzzed-out, synth-y weirdness that is Tobacco’s Ultima II Massage. Even without an over-abundance of bass, the low-end bite of songs like “Beast Sting” and “Self Tanner” maintained their groovy impact. In fact, I think I may have even preferred listening to the album’s warped synths and heavily processed vocals on the OD-11, which managed to open up its frequently claustrophobic feel.

If the sound is too vanilla for your taste, you give the bass and treble a boost directly from the Orthoplay app. Teenage Engineering

Aside from its accurate, room-filling sound, there’s are other highlights too. Teenage Engineering’s Orthoplay iOS app is well designed, intuitive, and easy to use. You can quickly boost both the treble and bass through the app as well as switch from streaming Spotify to your iTunes library in seconds with the app. The browser-based Orthoplay even lets you drag and drop songs directly from Soundcloud to create your own custom playlists.

Alas, you do eventually discover some fairly big limitations. Despite being equipped with Bluetooth, there’s no way to actually stream music using it. Apparently, it’s there solely to communicate with a hardware remote you have to buy separately for $99 (which I did not test). This seems strange to me. Then there’s the lack of actual streaming services with built-in functionality. Yes, Spotify is pretty huge, but it’s not like it’s the only popular music service out there. Granted, you can get around this limitation with some services (like Beats Music) simply by using AirPlay, and Teenage Engineering says it will eventually add more, but it’s still a bit of let down for something that calls itself a Cloud speaker.

Speaking of AirPlay, that really is the only option you have to stream. I didn’t find this particularly annoying, but that’s largely because it always seems to work for me. Colleagues of mine, however, haven’t been as lucky with Apple’s wireless streaming protocol. And it’s definitely worth noting that factors like network signal strength, interference, and the physical placement of your equipment can have a huge impact on performance.

For me, the biggest drawback is undoubtedly the OD-11’s price. At $899, it’s nearly twice what many would consider paying for a fancy premium wireless speaker. You get a $100 discount if you buy two OD-11s, but I’m still not sure who would pay $1,699 for two small speakers, even if they do sound good. It’s also a little disappointing when you consider that part of what made the original OD-11s so popular was their affordability. In 1978, a pair cost 1,300 Krona. That’s about $190 today, or $713 with inflation, still less than what one costs right now. I’m sure it took plenty of engineering kung fu and frustrating trial to error to modernize these speakers, but it’s just a shame so many people won’t get to hear the end result of that labor. It is lovely sounding.

 

Audi’s Super-Sedan Is as Fast as a Ferrari 458—At Half the Price

 

The new Audi RS7 is a conflicted car. It’s a five-door hatchback that can run neck and neck with a Ferrari 458 in the quarter mile. It marries straight-line performance with unexpected utility, and does it at a price that undercuts its similarly power-mad German competitors. Yet it’s not the vehicle you want to take to the track—the power overwhelms, and the Audi S7 is the better choice if you actually want to turn at high speeds.

But, good grief is this thing fast! Full throttle, the RS7 is 4,500 pounds of luxury hurtling forward like anti-aircraft fire. Say another nouveau-riche fellow pulls up next to you at a stoplight in his 458. Fear not. You’ll match him right through a quarter-mile drag race. As the two of you speed forward to 60 mph in around three seconds, he can ponder the fact that his $233,000 (at least) two-seat sports car is holding even with a ride that holds four people and their luggage comfortably.

With the RS7, Audi tips further away from its characteristic tight-lipped restraint than with any other car it makes, including the R8 V10 Plus.

Based on Audi’s A7 Sportback, the RS7 is the company’s top dog performance sedan, a notch above the S8 in dynamics if not price. It starts for $104,900, we tested one worth $122,545. It’s the most powerful Audi ever offered in the United States, boasting a 4.0 liter twin turbo V8 that makes 560 horsepower and 516 pound-feet of torque. The engine makes so much power that the regular A7’s 7-speed double-clutch transmission can’t handle the torque.

Instead, the RS7 gets an 8-speed ZF single clutch transmission that sends power to all four wheels via the Quattro AWD system. The resulting 11.5 second quarter mile dash is Gran Turismo easy – just plant your foot, no drama.

Driving the car, these giggle-inducing numbers feel like lowball estimates. After sprinting off the line, the RS7 pulls like a rocket sled to an electronically limited 174 mph (an optional “Dynamic” package bumps top speed to the same 189 mph ceiling you get in the European version of the car).

  Audi

Yet it’s still a practical car. There really are four habitable seats, though your head will be bowed in the back if you’re over 5’10”. The space available easily exceeds what you get in competitors like Mercedes’ CLS63 AMG, Aston Martin’s Rapide, and BMW’s M6 Gran Coupe. The rear hatch and folding rear seats yield 49.1 cubic feet of cargo space, more than a BMW X1 crossover.

The interior nods to fun, spiced up with aluminum pinstriping across black wood dash and door inlays, web stitching on the excellent seats, a perforated steering wheel wrap, and machined-out aluminum door handles. On startup, little Bang & Olufsen tweeters—ostensibly there to improve acoustics, really made for impressing friends and dates—rise from the dash in sync with the 7-inch MMI display screen.

The exterior signals aggression with 21-inch wheels enclosing 15”/14” wave-design rotors and a huge black gloss grille. Our Misano red pearl test driver had matte aluminum trim and a pattern based on the Audi quattro ring in the tail lamps. The effect is handsome, but borders on vulgar in bright red.

There are other bits of awkwardness. Small aluminum steering wheel shifter paddles indicate Audi doesn’t think you’ll paddle shift much (it’s probably right). The brake ducts on the front splitter are cosmetic only and the plastic cover over the engine keeps you from ogling the fabulous twin-turbo V8. Too bad, because beneath it you find the turbos mounted atop the intake manifold. The layout largely eliminates turbo lag, but Audi doesn’t say how it keeps the turbos cool.

The RS7 doesn’t drive perfectly. It corners and stops very well, until you push the power close to the limit. The chassis is marvelously stiff but the power out-muscles the suspension. The rear sport (electronic) differential over-speeds the outside rear wheels in hard cornering but it cannot defeat the inevitable AWD understeer. Nor can it make up for the RS7’s mass. Steering feel is vague and the air suspension doesn’t communicate what’s happening underneath.

What all that means is that when you barrel into a corner 40 mph quicker than you expected (likely at first) the car lurches, struggling mightily with front-end plow as you add more and more steering. The well heeled toffs who can afford an RS7 may not instinctively understand this.

For all its gobsmacking power, the RS7 really isn’t an emotional car in driving terms. On long highway drives, it’s nice to be isolated from noise and vibrations, but it takes something away when you want to really feel the car. Fortunately for Audi, the competition isn’t much more involving.

But at least it’s the dominant sort of isolation, the kind that allows you to look through dark sunglasses at the sucker next to you and rev the engine with confidence.