The Character Everyone Forgets Jon Hamm Played In CSI: Miami

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Hamm made two appearances on “CSI: Miami” during the show’s fourth season. The first was in Episode 5, titled “Three-Way,” during which the actor had an uncredited cameo as the character Dr. Brent Kessler. The real meat of his role came from his second appearance, however, as Kessler himself would take center stage just six episodes later in “Payback.”

In the episode, the CSI team runs an autopsy on a deceased young girl and finds a sponge in the wound, indicating malpractice during her surgery. After determining that Kessler was the operating doctor, the team questions him. A visibly out-of-sorts Kessler tries to pin the blame elsewhere, but the team samples the doctor’s beverage and determines that he was taking vitamin supplements to mask ecstasy use during the operation. Kessler then reveals that he was taking the drugs to repress early symptoms of Parkinson’s disease, explaining that he wasn’t ready to stop helping people as a doctor. But when Alexx shows him the picture of the deceased girl, he realizes that the time has come.

It’s certainly not a very light part for Hamm, but he gives a convincing performance as someone who did the wrong thing for the right reason. Though the actor’s catalog of roles has grown exponentially since then, his part as Kessler on “CSI: Miami” remains as one of his most tragic roles and stands as one of the franchise’s most depressing cases to date.

Jon Hamm spotted at Celtic against Hibernian clash as Mad Men star savours Parkhead experience

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MAD MEN star Jon Hamm added a bit of celebrity to the occasion when he was pictured taking in Celtic’s clash with Hibs last night from the Parkhead directors’ box.

The man who burst on to our screens as mysterious 60s advertising executive Don Draper was an interested spectator as the Hoops got up and running after the winter break with a 2-0 win.

1 Jon Hamm watches on from the Parkhead directors’ box Credit: SNS

He took a seat alongside Hibs stars Paul McGinn and Ryan Porteous, and St Mirren manager Jim Goodwin.

The A-lister is currently in Scotland filming for a new season of Amazon series Good Omens.

Earlier this week he was spotted on the cobbled streets of Edinburgh alongside fellow star Michael Sheen.

And the 50-year-old popped into Glasgow eaterie Buck’s Bar where he took selfies with the staff after enjoying a nice meal.

Meanwhile, Ange Postecoglou reckons Celtic’s 2-0 win over Hibs shows they can cope without Kyogo Furuhashi .

New signing Daizen Maeda marked his Hoops debut with an early goal.

While fellow Japanese Reo Hatate was named man of the match with an outstanding performance.

Postecoglou revealed he is waiting on news on how long Furuhashi faces on the sidelines with the hitman missing from action.

But he reckons Celtic now have the depth of squad to handle his absence.

Postecoglou said: “Don’t get me wrong, I would much rather that Kyogo was available and playing.

“He has been outstanding, he has been a star and I would much rather have him in the team.

“But the whole idea going into the January window was we needed a stronger squad."

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Jon Hamm Narrates Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, Updated for the Timeline Era

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In Plato’s allegory of the cave (part of his The Republic), the reader/listener is asked to imagine people trapped in a cave whose only experience of the outside world is observing shadows cast by people outside the cave, which becomes their reality. In this clip from the TV show Legion narrated by Jon Hamm, Plato’s allegory is extended to our present age, where we’re mediated by devices and social media algorithms into individualized shadowy caves of our own.

Now, what if instead of being in a cave, you were out in the world — except you couldn’t see it because you trusted that the world you saw through the prism was the real world. But there’s a difference. You see, unlike the allegory of the cave where the people are real and the shadows are false, here other people are the shadows, their faces, their lives.

(via open culture)

Will Forte’s Recurring SNL Characters, Ranked

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Photo-Illustration: Vulture; Photos by Saturday Night Live/YouTube

Will Forte is returning to Saturday Night Live this weekend, more than a decade after leaving the show, for his first-ever hosting gig. Though the lack of a Forte-hosted episode has felt egregious to his many fans — every other cast member from Forte’s circa-2007 glory years has either already returned to host or still works at the show — it also makes a certain amount of sense. Forte has a reputation as a fan favorite, prone to following his own weird muse; more of a Kyle Mooney or (fingers crossed) Sarah Sherman type than a beloved jack-of-all-trades like his castmate Bill Hader. Forte has always seemed so dedicated to disappearing into his own strangeness that it’s hard to picture him doing a sentimentally glad-handing monologue as himself.

Yet while SNL diehards glory to Forte’s presence in perfect oddities like “math whiz vs. history buff” or the potato chip sketch, here’s a secret about his eight-season tenure on the show: He may have been the single best purveyor of the dark art known as recurring characters.

There are other SNL legends with a greater volume of recurring characters, or with greater cultural impact, replete with familiar catchphrases, spinoffs, and terrible schoolyard imitations. But that familiarity breeds inevitable irritation; who among us cannot name at least one Kristen Wiig bit that drives us up a wall? Forte’s gallery of characters, on the other hand, rarely wear out their welcome, in large part because hardly anyone seemed to be asking them to stick around. Based on their sporadic presence, these are labors of love — opportunities for Forte to indulge a particular weirdo voice, off-putting haircut, or bulged forehead vein, all of which get funnier when he brings them back, often in a new, format-shifting context that keeps the bit from getting stale.

With all that idiosyncrasy, Forte still managed to create a genuine breakout. His signature character MacGruber has survived long enough to top-line not only a feature film in 2010, but a recent eight-episode series on Peacock. Hilariously, for a character built on five-minute trilogies of mini-sketches, MacGruber has now probably logged more pure hours of screen time than even fellow big-screen transplants like Wayne and Garth or the Coneheads. Somehow, Forte’s relentless dedication to the bit makes MacGruber more endearing each time he appears onscreen, rather than turning him into a nuisance.

MacGruber is the most likely candidate to be revived on Saturday — and so we must take this opportunity to celebrate those who probably won’t appear, like Lyle Kane, or Clancy T. Bachleratt, or Jean-George Peppers, who the SNL Fandom wiki claims was a recurring character despite him being traceable only to a single sketch (which actually introduced Horatio Sanz’s character Carol).

For this list, we have excluded any political impressions; they weren’t really Will’s forte, even though he logged ample time as John Edwards, Zell Miller, and even George W. Bush. (Though Forte is on record as never having particularly enjoyed his time as Bush, his work there is ripe for reappraisal: He’s the only one to do W. without blatantly knocking off Will Ferrell’s version. His whinier, more weaselly spin was a pretty strong interpretation of second-term Bush.) But that’s not what we’re cataloguing in this list; here, we look at the characters who are inimitable Forte originals — a designation that may prove redundant.

Appearances: 2

This character places last not because it’s the least of Forte’s creations and co-creations, but because it only counts on a technicality, if that. In a Jon Hamm–hosted episode in January 2010, viewers were treated to the sight of a unitard-clad Forte as a “closet organizer,” a handy tool pelted with all manner of objects in a losing battle against clutter. It sort of has to be seen to be believed. Then, later in that very same episode, a low-key dialogue-driven sketch between Forte and Hamm reveals that Forte is playing the same character — the closet-organizer guy from the ads. It’s not just a throwaway detail, either; the sketch hinges on Forte’s frustration with the thoughtless users who are only interested in him for his closet-organization fame. In-episode continuity is so rare in contemporary SNL episodes that this diptych warrants a mention; it’s also a laugh-out-loud sketch with an amusingly downbeat chaser.

Appearances: 3

Forte wasn’t as big on “Weekend Update” characters as, say, Fred Armisen, but he teamed with Armisen to play Patrick and Gunther Kelly. The straitlaced brothers are tasked with explaining complicated matters such as tax codes or SARS, and inevitably do so by singing an absolutely nonsensical, content-free song. Armisen has other characters who do the not-actually-saying-anything shtick (remember Nicholas Fehn?), but Forte brings a touch of demented charm to this routine by hitting those yowling high notes.

Appearances: 7

Normally, we’re disinclined to count recurring characters who exist only to aid or react to other cast members’ showcase characters; Forte repeatedly played an announcer on “What Up With That,” but it’s not really his sketch. That said, Forte is a crucial component of the endless sketches starring Kristen Wiig’s mischievously destructive Gilly, where his calmly rhythmic questioning style (“Was it you, Liam?”) and interrogations (“Gillyyyy?”) give the sketch its shape, providing the right counterbalance to Gilly’s inexplicable chaos.

Appearances: 8

One of Forte’s most successful recurring characters is also one of his most conventional and least dexterous: one-half of Twinkle and Stink, co-anchors who appear on ESPN Classic broadcasts of various women’s sporting events from decades ago. The recurring joke of the segment belongs to Jason Sudeikis, who is repeatedly tasked with exclaiming the name of various sponsoring feminine products with increasingly ridiculous zeal (and rhyming catchphrases). This leaves Forte free to repeatedly steal the sketch, as Stink keeps finding new ways to provide unhelpful color commentary at Twinkle’s genial prodding. The way Stink papers over his addled lack of expertise with a constant grin is vaguely reminiscent of boobish Will Ferrell–style characters, but Forte is typically more interested in abstracting stupidity than satirizing it. Accordingly, there are some big laughs in the Twinkle and Stink archives — but ultimately, it’s one of Forte’s few recurring bits that wore out its welcome. (This also means there’s a better-than-decent chance it’ll return on Saturday.)

Appearances: 4

Real ones prefer this Forte-Sudeikis collaboration: an “opposite band” that sings covers of songs by Bon Jovi (among others) with words torturously flipped into the antonyms whenever possible. It began as a sketch and then found a more regular home on “Weekend Update,” where even performing three times in relatively quick succession was not enough: Forte and Sudeikis loved this routine so much they revived it on “Second Chance Theatre,” a Late Night With Seth Meyers segment where Meyers allows SNL cast members to perform cut sketches. Typically, this is reserved for offbeat ideas like Forte’s much-hyped “Jenjamin Franklin,” but it’s a tribute to Forte’s tenacity that he could convince Meyers to treat well-trod characters as lost gems.

Appearances: 2

A performer more focused on pleasing the crowd would have done this bit at least six times, because the dorky coach who tries to inspire a flailing team with a joyfully akimbo dance routine slays a live audience — including other performers in the sketch, as you can see fully half of the six-member basketball team covering their laughing faces in the first installment, featuring Peyton Manning. While there were clearly diminished returns in repeating the sketch with Michael Phelps, Forte has such demented energy in the first one (note that his co-stars are stifling laughter despite not even looking at his face for most of the dance!), and showed such restraint in not bringing it back way for a third through sixth round, that it deserves some extra points.

Photo: NBC

Appearances: 2

Many of Forte’s characters come across like children in adult bodies. Almost none of them overflow with childlike wonder or joy, however. Rather, they have a childlike sense of helpless abandon, the purest expression of which may be Andy, whose job over the course of two sketches that aired during season 30 is to answer a phone. Whoever calls, whatever their business, whether it’s at an investment firm or a telethon, Andy can only answer with a panicked cry of “oh no!” (or rather, “oohhhhh nooooooo!”). It might seem maddening, but really, who among us hasn’t reacted that way to the very existence of a phone call? Andy isn’t Forte’s rangiest creation, but there are plenty of SNL sketches that have done less with more.

Appearances: 4

Performed as a trio with Forte, Kristen Wiig, and the episode’s host, the “Introverts” sketch follows Neil (Forte), Jean (Wiig), and a rotating third member as they branch out into social situations with which they inevitably seem unfamiliar, speaking with nerdy affects, cracking painfully dorky jokes, and often punctuating observations with “that’s America; it’s a problem.” It’s a dynamic flexible enough to accommodate guests as wide-ranging as Lindsay Lohan and Steve Martin, and there’s something almost tender about the way Forte and Wiig seem to really understand the kind of social outcasts who have at least found each other.

Appearances: 2

Though he obviously likes to play characters who are bad at singing, songwriting, and/or performing, there’s also something genuinely musical about Will Forte’s performance style, somewhere between opera and whiskey-fueled jam sessions. A shameless sense of muchness often animates his sketch performances. “Fly High Duluth” was a one-and-done; a just-barely recurring example of Forte singing himself hoarse is his character Clancy T. Bachleratt, who, with his partner Jackie Snad (Kristen Wiig), sings exclusively about spaceships, toddlers, Model-T cars, and jars of beer. Reconfiguring single-minded mania to make it seem like it covers a range of interests is a textbook Forte character trait (and doesn’t it apply to plenty of musicians, too?).

Photo: NBC

Appearances: 3

One of the most frustrating aspects of the typical SNL recurring characters tends to be the restrictive formats that surround them; so often, these characters are stuck in barely modified situations to generate the same conflicts that fueled their earlier appearances. On a practical level, it makes sense; sometimes these characters are repeated for the benefit of new or occasional viewers as much as faithful fans. But it’s thrilling when characters can break out of those boxes and simply appear wherever they’re needed. (Usually, this is easier to do when the character is not especially popular.) Case in point: Lyle Kane, another Forte child-man with sort of a slicked-down cowlick and an accent somewhere on an imaginary border between midwestern and Scandinavian. He first appears in an ensemble high-school sketch about prom planning; then he hosts The Lyle Kane Show, a talk show on BET where he walks himself through the mechanics of hosting a talk show (on “Black ET,” as he refers to it); then he walks through a sketch about Ashton Kutcher not being admitted to a club while all manner of weirdos (including Lyle Kane) are let in ahead of him. What stands out about Lyle, apart from his “hi der” catchphrase, is the genuine sense of mystery that surrounds him: He repeatedly identifies himself as a valedictorian; the internet identifies him as an exchange student, but there doesn’t seem to be direct reference to that in the text of any of his sketches; and in his first sketch, he announces that he only recently began speaking at school. (This isn’t a spoiler because the sketch in question does not appear in Peacock’s cut-down version of the episode, hosted by Zach Braff.)

Appearances: 9

In one of his greatest acts of low-key perversity, Will Forte’s first successful recurring sketch on SNL, originated back in 2002 with comedian and writer Leo Allen, was designed to barely feature him at all. In every adventure of the Falconer, businessman turned hermit Ken Mortimer (Forte) gets into some kind of scrape and sends his falcon Donald out for help; the sketch then chronicles Donald doing various things it might be funny to see a falcon puppet do, like eating at a fancy restaurant or running the tables at Vegas. The interplay between the nutty repetition of the sketch (which, after its introductory sequence, always opens with Forte screaming, “OHHHH, DONALD!”) and a genuine drive to find bizarre variations on a theme (time travel is involved at one point) is sublime. Appropriately, a meta sketch revealing the Falconer’s despair upon finding out that he’s merely a recurring character on SNL was written but never aired.

Appearances: 3

If ever there was evidence of Forte’s hold over SNL maven Lorne Michaels, it’s the fact that his sketch about ornery businessmen calling each other “Fartface” somehow spun out into two additional installments. This can’t be chalked up to base crowd-pleasing. If anything, bringing back these characters after the first installment, during which Forte and Bill Hader eventually berate Josh Brolin’s character to tears (and, in the hilariously grim punch line, much worse) by calling him “Fartface,” was an act of aggression against the audience, which produced some of the mildest titters I’ve ever heard during an SNL sketch. Somehow, Carl (Forte) and Jerry (Hader) made it to air twice more — and, to Forte’s credit, got better reactions both times around. The sketch where they try to figure out the logistics of buying dildos for everyone in the office certainly deserves to be a holiday classic, but there’s also something special about watching the original sketch absolutely die in the room.

Appearances: 5 (plus at least two real-life weddings)

Another character who slips between various (if similar) sketch formats, Hamilton, a man with long blond hair and dark sunglasses who sounds a bit like Jigsaw from the Saw movies, typically materializes in any kind of semi-public forum where he can take a microphone (or brandish his own) and predict bloodbaths and/or propose marriage to celebrities. (It does feel like a missed opportunity that Hamilton never stood up to ask a question at a post-movie Q&A.) It’s difficult to make a white supremacist funny, but Forte captures the eerie, unyielding confidence of a man who will smoothly turn a wedding toast or a few words at a funeral into a gravelly tirade against “Barack Hussein Obama.” He’s not a flailing, show-offy performer, but the physicality he brings to these roles is deceptively exacting. The sketch above includes both Hamilton and the Maya Rudolph equivalent of that character, the underappreciated (and not racist!) Glenda Goodwin. There may not have been a Hamilton spinoff series or merch sales at the NBC Store, but Hamilton did have the honor of speaking at the weddings of Seth Meyers and Andy Samberg — really.

Appearances: 9

What more can be said about MacGruber, the MacGyver spoof who parlayed 90-second sketches into a feature film and a TV series? Again, Forte masters the tricky balance between repetition, variation, and punctuation, with cuts to stock-footage explosions serving as the inevitable, and always perfectly timed, punch line. More impressive is the way Forte antes up the Will Ferrell model of parodying masculinity, turning a throwback action hero into a conduit for the ugliness of human (or, really, American) character. Racism, addiction, poor body image, financial destruction — they’re all trapped in a control room with MacGruber, and us.

Appearances: 9

It’s obvious from his Tim Calhoun character that Forte chafes at even the loose boundaries of reality imposed by SNL’s traditional political material. He seems to much prefer Tim Calhoun, a robotic caricature of a generic southern candidate and another one of Forte’s frown-faced miscreants attempting to mime through the rituals of an adult job. Though he was once ported over to an actual sketch, Calhoun typically appears on “Weekend Update” giving a cracked stump speech. His stiff hand gestures, slicked hair, and his endless supply of index cards hybridize empty campaign bromides with an awkward elementary-school presentation. In conclusion and in summary, Tim Calhoun is nearly the platonic ideal of a Forte character, lacking only the crucial interactions with the outside world that put our No. 1 character at the top.

Appearances: 2

Sex offender or Halloween costume? That’s the eternal, discomfiting question posed by a two-hander sketch with Will Forte and Jon Hamm that has improbably become a rerun staple thanks to its Halloween theme. Jeff Montgomery’s bad jokes, social awkwardness, and inability to lie convincingly mask something genuinely menacing, which, combined with a bushy mustache and itinerant nature, makes him a perfect Forte character who simply cannot function properly in society. So perfect, in fact, that Montgomery could barely function on the show that created him. Though his Halloween introduction airs annually, a Thanksgiving-themed follow-up that originally arrived mere weeks later ends on a couple of jokes that provoke audible disgust from some of the studio audience. It did not become a holiday-compilation perennial. Plenty of SNL characters test the audience’s patience; Forte does so with a near-scientific precision.

Deconstructing Dino

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(Photo via Getty Images.)

For decades, Dean Martin has eluded biographers, largely because he eluded all who knew him. Perhaps 20th century America’s most protean entertainer, Martin ruled Las Vegas, dominated variety television, starred in a plethora of (sporadically amusing) movies, and crooned iconic hits. Like Frank Sinatra, he embodied the American ideal of self-invention, ascending to tremendous cultural heights from unassuming roots. But unlike Sinatra, his stage persona was mostly illusory; a facade created to distance others from his deeper self. The real Dean Martin (or Dino Paul Crocetti) was fully understood by no one, even among those closest to him, and this evasiveness is the primary concern of a new documentary that attempts to chronicle his life. Unfortunately, although director Tom Donahue’s Dean Martin: King of Cool is an earnest and comprehensive biography, it reveals little about its subject that similar portraits have not previously established.

Donahue’s film combines archival footage of Martin and newly conducted interviews with those who knew him to explore his rise from working-class Ohio boxer to West Coast superstar. As is often inexplicably the case with modern music documentaries, contemporary celebrities who had no affiliation with Martin are also interviewed throughout, and predictably, they have nothing insightful to say. Alec Baldwin, Jon Hamm, and the Wu-Tang Clan’s RZA all appear for no apparent reason to offer vague affirmations of Martin’s voice and charisma, despite the fact that anyone willing to view a two-hour documentary about the man will already be quite aware of his abilities. Thankfully, the majority of Donahue’s interviewees—ranging from former road manager Tony Oppedisano to actress Angie Dickinson—recall enjoyable anecdotes and seem happy to be involved. Martin’s daughter, Deanna, is especially delightful, and provides a number of charming memories in the film’s second half.

At the beginning of the documentary, Donahue poses a simple question to his roster of talking heads: “What was Dean’s Rosebud?” Initially, none of them can muster an answer. But by the film’s conclusion, Donahue seemingly hasn’t arrived at one either, even after inspecting the whole of Martin’s life. Donahue’s interviewees repeat that beneath his effortless charm and outgoing manner, Martin was almost unknowable; he concealed his true thoughts in all encounters and seemed to never open up. He was comfortable and outgoing in crowded settings but generally preferred solitude. When hosting parties at his Beverly Hills mansion, he would often retreat to a private room and leave his guests to mingle. And at the hedonistic height of the Rat Pack, he would happily abandon the group’s overnight bacchanals to sleep at a reasonable hour, undeterred by Sinatra’s anger.

Undoubtedly, Martin’s internal monologue was deeply complex, and Donahue attempts to penetrate it by honing in on particular aspects of his character. We see Martin as a father who adored his children and was happiest at large family gatherings. His acquaintances stress that he valued his fans and delighted in making audiences laugh, while observing that he was less concerned with social climbing than Sinatra and had little time for politics. (A memorable sequence explores how Martin refused to attend John F. Kennedy’s presidential inauguration after Sammy Davis Jr. was banned for his interracial marriage to actress May Britt.) But certain details are mentioned vaguely while others are scrutinized at length. Martin’s divorce from first wife Elizabeth McDonald,with whom he had four children, receives only a few reserved comments. Later, the documentary suggests that Martin regretted his divroce from second wife Jeanne Bieger and yearned for her in his final years, but this too is only explored to a limited extent despite the promise of greater personal insight. Perhaps Donahue feared appearing indelicate if these subjects were examined too thoroughly, but such restraint in a biography as intimate as this one seems misplaced.

Yet it feels churlish to criticize Donahue for failing to fully solve Martin’s enigma when the documentary is otherwise beautifully presented and perfectly enjoyable. Donahue’s direction is crisp and keeps a brisk pace despite the film’s length, and he strikes an ideal balance between interviews and footage of Martin at home and in performance. Every facet of Martin’s career is at least addressed, from his partnership with Jerry Lewis to the ill-fated Rat Pack reunion tour of the late 1980s, and the archival clips are chosen well enough to provide a rounded representation of his talent. The film is never dry, and maintains a respectful tone without succumbing to blind adulation.

But typically for such a broad portrait, the film’s coverage of Martin’s art is unbalanced. The Dean Martin Show, his long-running variety series, is covered extensively through a variety of memorable anecdotes. But his breakup with Jerry Lewis, a hugely significant event in the history of pop culture, is skimmed through so rapidly that a casual viewer could easily not understand what occurred. Likewise, although equal time is dedicated to Martin’s musical and acting careers, particular movies, songs, and albums are dissected while others arbitrarily go unmentioned. Careful attention is rightly paid to Howard Hawks’ Rio Bravo, in which Martin delivered arguably his finest performance. But popular films from Martin’s heyday such as Some Came Running, Bells are Ringing, and Rat Pack vehicles Ocean’s 11 and Robin and the 7 Hoods are referenced fleetingly. Of course, these have hardly aged well and were likely of dubious quality at the time, but paying so little attention to any of them is a notable oversight.

Regarding Martin’s musical output, all of his signature songs (“That’s Amore,” “Everybody Loves Somebody,” etc.) are mentioned, and superior though lesser known singles such as “On an Evening in Roma” surface throughout on the film’s soundtrack. Again, however, certain tracks receive greater acknowledgement than others. In a pleasant surprise, Donahue’s interviewees discuss the beautiful “Volare” at length, but “Memories are Made of This,” Martin’s first No. 1 hit which marked a turning point in his career, is barely featured. “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head,” which flopped as a single on release but has in recent years become Martin’s most popular song through its inclusion on a profusion of soundtracks, also receives little affection despite the curious story of its success. Many of Martin’s best recordings appeared on studio albums and were not released as singles, but these are also neglected. On Capitol Records in the late 1950s and early 1960s, Martin was at his artistic peak, and the concept albums he created during that time such as Sleep Warm and This Time I’m Swingin’ almost rival Sinatra’s transcendent releases on the label. In the film, these are not recognized, and Martin’s consequential move to Reprise Records (founded by Sinatra) in 1962 where his later hits were recorded is described in little more than a sentence.

Nonetheless, despite the film’s assorted omissions and occasional missteps, it remains slick and compulsive viewing. The real Dean Martin, it is clear, was understood by Dean Martin alone, and no amount of research will likely lead any biographer to his true self. Using the best resource available—those who knew, worked with, and loved Martin—Donahue has produced a thoughtful and comprehensive tribute to a figure who, despite his enigmatic nature, continues to personify coolness. More attention to specific aspects of Martin’s life and artistry would have enhanced the film, and it is unfortunate that for all the effort undertaken by Donahue to complete such an elaborate documentary, only a modicum of new revelations emerge about its subject. But as a guide to the life of an essential American, Dean Martin: King of Cool is suitably sprawling, lively, and uplifting. How lucky can one guy be?