Andrew Bloom

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9

[7.0/10] I’m real mixed on this one. Both stories have their merits, and their cool impressionistic sequences. But both also have a certain randomness, and some heavy signposting that leaves me cold.

Let’s start with Storm and Forge. I’ll say this much -- I appreciate that X-Men ‘97 remembered Storm’s claustrophobia! Even the original show seemed to just move past that pretty quickly, so having The Adversary taunt her with an enclosed coffin, or to have her face her fear by going into a cramped mineshaft to save Forge carries extra weight with what she’s braving to save her lover.

I’m also a fan of those impressionistic sequences between her and The Adversary. I don’t know; I’m just a sucker for that sort of thing. So much of the emotional experiences in our life defy being able to be captured in mundane scenes. Realizing Storm’s inner turmoil from a demon who makes Storm feel like the walls are closing in on her, literally, who drags her through a grand guignol theater of the mind to represent what she’s going through, compels me in a way simple wailing and gnashing of teeth doesn’t. I appreciate the show’s visual creativity and psychological maximalism with those set pieces.

I even like the point the show’s trying to make, about Storm secretly warning to hide who she is and feeling guilty for that. The notion of embracing yourself, of “coming out”, is a powerful metaphor that fits within the X-Men’s accepting ethos. There’s a fair amount of purple prose used to explain it, but it comes with a keen insight about self-shaming and self-acceptance.

My problems are both in how that idea is realized. For one, the fact that The Adversary is just some random demon who happened to be wandering through the desert or something is bizarre. More and more, it’s apparent that X-Men ‘97 wants to be a kind of anime, and this storyline in particular has more of that “weird magical thing happens for no particular reason” bit that often irks me in the (admittedly limited) anime I’ve seen.

They try to put a fig leaf on it, with Forge explaining that it feeds on misery and self-loathing, and so Storm and Forge made for “good chum.” But the whole thing feels so random and arbitrary. And science-focused Forge being able to use the occasional bit of Dr. Strange-esque magic comes out of nowhere as well.

But the biggest pathology,the one this storyline shares with Xavier’s, is that it all but announces the themes to the audience. I know there’s mixed feelings about subtlety among fans, but at too many points, it felt like The Adversary and Storm were just speaking an essay at viewers rather than debating one another in larger than life terms.

This isn’t “Lifedeath”’s fault, but I’m also just a bit tired of the “character has a personal breakthrough which allows them to have a superpowered breakthrough” routine. It’s still cool when Storm regains her powers, but between the hamfistedness of the messaging, and the sense of randomness in her overcoming an ostensibly medical problem by just believing in herself harder, the head-scratch qualities of it made it harder to enjoy the glory of the moment.

I feel the same way about the Professor X storyline. Again, I like the message “Lifedeath” is trying to send here. The warning about resorting to “good old days” nostalgia-baiting and baseless fear of and demeaning outsiders is a good thing in principle. Promoting the importance of education is outstanding. But eventually, the episode devolves into Charles literally lecturing on the topics. The dialogue is blunt as hell and overly florid, and the point could hardly be made in a more didactic fashion, which takes a lot of the oomph out of it.

That said, I do still appreciate the imagery. Another jaunt to the astral plane helps enhance with imagery what the show lacks in the written word. The classroom motif and chalk outlines give Xavier’s speech a distinctive character. And my goodness, the psychic impingement Professor X receives about what happened on Genosha -- with a Watchmen-esque sea of skeletons amid a horrible blast -- is almost as bracing as the original event.

I also appreciate that the show boils down Charles’ situation to a choice. He’s torn between his life with Lilandra on the one hand and his life with his children on the other. Being forced to not only stick around in space, but purge his memory of his old life brings home what he’d be giving up in a visceral way. I can appreciate that choice.

But I don’t know, I was never particularly compelled by the outer space interludes of the original X-Men series, and the connection between Xavier and Lilandra always felt like something that happened more by fiat than something the show had earned, so returning to those elements doesn’t do much for me from the jump. (Though hey, after the importance of the Kree to the MCU, it’s nice to see more than a passing glimpse of them in the X-Men ‘97 universe.)

The politics of the Shi'ar are, once again, very four-color and blunt in the point they’re trying to make. It’s something I could forgive when the original show was aimed at children. But this is clearly meant for those who grew up with the original show, so I think it’s fair to expect a bit more sophistication. (That said, our current political moment in the real world is, perhaps, no less caricatured and blunt, so maybe the joke’s on me.)

Also, on a purely superficial level, I’m not crazy about the new voice for Professor X. Ross Marquand is a talented voice actor, but his Xavier vocal tones are too different from Cedric Smith’s for my taste, and at times, he sounds kind of like Matt Berry, which I found distracting.

From a big picture plot perspective, I don’t really want Professor X to come back. He had such a moving farewell at the end of the original show. It felt like a television program that wasn’t technically allowed to kill main characters off doing everything but. I get the desire to return him to the fold, but undoing such a big choice like that takes away from the import and finality of the original show’s swan song. What’s more, I’m far more invested in the idea of the X-Men figuring out how to move forward without their old leaders than in rehashing the usual “Professor X guides his pupils” routine we’ve seen dozens of times before. Let shows evolve! Especially when it’s been thirty years!

Overall, though, I appreciate what the show’s trying to do in “Lifedeath”, and there’s plenty to like here, but the directness of the writing, and the randomness of the events stops this from being a firm “yes” for me.

[8.310] Holy hell! This episode took a sharp left turn and completely knocked my socks off.

In truth, I wasn’t on board with this one until the “Godzilla Sentinel” showed up, more or less. A lot of “Remember It” was some pretty tepid romantic melodrama that balled up into, if you can believe it, a love septagon.

So Magneto had a thing with Rogue and wants her to be his queen. Rogue is tempted given their past and the fact that they can make contact but still cares for Gambit. Gambit loves Rogue with the full force of his heart, but is flirting a bit with Madelyne Pryor. Madelyne Pryor is having psychic dalliance with Cyclops on the astral plane. Cyclops and Jean are still trying to work out what their relationship means after this big clone saga. And Jean is so mixed up that she plants one on Wolverine.

That's a lot! And it doesn’t even count Morph’s sublimated crush on Logan, which thankfully isn’t thrown into the multi-person knot that tangles up the first half of this episode. I don’t mind romance, or the friction that comes with it. Romance and love triangles were a significant part of the original X-Men series as well. But the execution here wasn’t particularly good.

Some of that is the love octagon that the show spins up in a short amount of time. The Magneto/Rogue/Gambit thing really should have been the priority given what takes place in the rest of the episode, and deserved as much real estate as X-Men ‘97 could afford. Everything about the Pryor/Cyclops/Jean/Wolverine side of the house feels rushed, and the business with the reporter doesn't help.

But some of that might be able to be overcome if the dialogue and performances were better. Much of the lovers’ quarrels here lack the ring of truth in the way the characters speak with one another. “Real people don’t talk that way” is a fool’s gold criticism, because of course television dialogue is stylized to meet the moment. But the way the various X-Men speak to one another is tin-eared and mannered in a way that detracts from the authenticity and rawness the show seems to want to convey in these interactions, which is a big drawback for them.

That said, whether it’s dialogue or performance or both, there’s also a stiltedness in how the lines are delivered. Going to these places with genuine emotion is hard, but across the board, the performers can't quite gin up the emotion necessary to feel true when so many of the X-Men are breaking one another’s hearts.

That said, I’m still a sucker for the Rogue-Gambit relationship, so parts of this one hit me like gangbusters. I’m sure you can guess which.

The Rogue/Magneto business still wigs me out a bit. The May-December romance is still a bit gross, and Magneto’s electromagnetism blocking Rogue’s powers is still a bit cheap. In truth, I assumed this whole thing was some kind of fake out, so seeing them pull the trigger on it was a little unexpected.

All that said, I can appreciate the idea of it, at least. Magneto would not be above abusing a mentor relationship to make it a romantic one. (Granted, I’m not sure that's the intended read.) I can also appreciate the idea of Rogue gravitating toward someone she can actually make contact with, no matter what problems there may be, given how hard having to avoid closeness with loved ones has been for her. And even if I’m icky on the relationship, their mid-air dance is the most sensual and passionate X-Men has ever been, which counts for something! The animation in this episode is a mixed bag, with the pre-action sequences being particularly questionable, so that's a particular achievement.

And while the tortured romance thing makes me roll my eyes a bit, there’s something true and tragic about Rogue and Gambit’s relationship. You can understand why Gambit would be hurt, why he’d protest that their love is more than just skin deep. You can understand why Rogue doesn’t want to be tortured by never being able to touch someone she loves, and the political practicality of becoming Magento’s queen. And you can understand Rogue giving it the old college try, with the passionate dance with Magnus in front of everyone, only to realize that no matter what she tells herself, that partnership isn’t the one she really wants. The volume is high and the emotional tone is overblown, but there’s truth at the core of this corner of the love octagon, and it works.

Until the villains destroy everything.

The contrast between the bliss and sanctuary Genosha offers for most of the episode, and the utter devastation that follows once the Godzilla Sentinel invades, is completely jarring, in the best way.

The attack has meaning because Genosha does seem like a mutant paradise. There are tributes to Xavier and Magneto. There is good ol’ Nightcrawler, a goodwill ambassador to guide our friends around. And there is a ruling council, filled with a nice sample familiar faces from X-Men’s past, including a human, suggesting that in the wake of Professor X’s death, the mutants really did come together.

Not for nothing, the show’s creative team also does a wonderful job of making the mutant nation feel distinctive. The visual designs of the buildings and shops and decor; the way they use their abilities to dance and play and move in a space meant for them; the way they float and flit seem uninhibited in a place just for them all sells Genosha as the sanctuary they’ve been waiting for.

So it means something when the sentinel, the original enemy of the X-Men in this series, returns to rend it asunder. The last gasps of Cable to his mother (a reveal I hope we have more time for later in the show) comes with an appropriate sense of desperation. Too many of us who grew up with the original show have lived through seemingly normal days and fun events destroyed by sudden tragedy. The sentinel attack has that tone, and it’s gut-wrenching in action.

It’s also, in a strange way, cool as hell. Again, I don’t know what to do with this show’s animation. Sometimes, it includes stiff movements and awkward character expressions that make it feel like a high class flash cartoon. Other times, in sequences like the X-Men defending their fellow mutants against the super-sentinel, the fluidity, epic scope, and attention to detail make it feel downright Akira-esque. Maybe the animators are just saving all their juice for the big sequences, but whatever the deal is, when they bring their A-game, they blow you away.

The blinding blast of cataclysmic green light raining down on fighter and bystander alike, the heroism of Kurt Wagner diving in front of the beam to protect our champions, the force of Magneto using his powers to smack this mechanical demon in the face, Rogue and Gambit racing into battle, the Cajun combatant bursting in to rescue to Morlocks, Rogue bursting through one of the automatons’ shoulders, Magneto saving Leech within an improvised shell and telling the poor child not to be afraid. They are all marvelous, momentous, jaw-dropping moments in a kinetic finale that trades the gentle peace of Genosha’s new dawn for terrifying panic and a wave of utter destruction. If you could watch without gripping the edge of your chair, you’re a stronger man than I.

And of course, there is the shock, glory, and tragedy of Gambit’s sacrifice. Whatever their hang-ups, Gambit still loves Rogue, and his willingness to put his life in harm’s way to preserve hers shows the depths of that affection, requited or not. The moment where he leaps up to take out the demon, and it impales him like nothing, Remy’s limp body drooping from a mechanized tentacle, takes your breath away with the sudden surprise of it. And there may be no more triumphant, if sad moment in the series than Gambit using the spearing of his own guts to harness his powers and destroy the bastion of mechanized death that unleashed hell upon his loved ones and countrymen.

Therein lies the greatest irony of “Remember It”. Gambit and Rogue debate whether their love is enough, but in the end, Remy will make the ultimate sacrifice if it will save the woman he cares so deeply for. And what drove them apart despite their feelings was that they couldn’t make contact, only for the moment when they can finally be close to one another only coming because Gambit is no longer alive to be hurt by his lover’s touch. The romances of “Remember It” stumble and fumble their way through much of this episode, but by god, they finish strong.

[5.8/10] So let’s start with the thing I did like. Maya sparing Fisk’s pain, rather than ending him, surprised me. I assumed Echo would do the standard superhero/supervillain throwdown thing, that flattens all the complicated morality and character of a season into one standard bout of fisticuffs. (Hello Daredevil season 1 fans!) I appreciate how “Maya” swerves instead.

It is, at a minimum, cheap to give a character powers that allows them to nigh-magically resolve someone else’s emotional pain. But for one thing, the most interesting thing you could do for Kingpin is take away the thing that he claims “made him”. For another, there is no stronger rebuke of Fisk’s value system than for Maya to choose to help him rather than kill him, breaking the cycle rather than perpetuating it. And finally, it ties into Maya’s mother’s flashback admonition about not hurting a living thing, showing that more than Chula or Kingpin, the legacy that Maya carries on is her mother’s.

In short, it’s plain that the writing team thought out how to make a thematically resonant ending that tied into Maya’s actions. The turn was surprising, but dovetailed neatly with what the show had set up to date, which is a tricky tightrope to pull off.

The problem is that this is about all I liked from the finale. (Give or take another rendition of Samantha Crain’s “When We Remain” and the coolness of the few glimpses we get of the Chocktaw celebration.)

All of the complexity from the last episode has evaporated. Chula is pure good. Kingpin is pure evil. All of the nuance is gone. And despite the fact that there’s thankfully not much of an action-heavy climax here, they spin up a contrived excuse for Biscuits to crush the bad guys with a Monster Truck, and for Henry to take out Fisk’s head goon. I appreciate wanting to involve your secondary characters in the action, but the involvement of both of them feels so shoehorned in.

Speaking of which, holy cow Chula and Bonnie’s powers come out of nowhere and are badly deployed. Maybe I’ve seen too much, but the “I’m infused by the powers of everyone, and I’m sharing them with my comrades!” ending has been done too many times to have force for me. Buffy did it, and most notably, Captain Marvel did it. So while I get the symbolism of Maya standing in front of the spirits of her ancestors, and sharing her powers with her grandmother and best friends, in practice it comes off hackneyed and silly.

Look, this is a fantastical superhero show. I can buy magic existing in the world. But Bonnie and Chula breaking away from their attackers just looks silly visually, which makes it hard to take seriously. And on a practical evel, it’s not clear why the goons don‘t shoot them or club them or whatever else even if they have some kind of mystical strength. I don’t need realism in my superhero shows by any stretch of the imaignation, but this one doesn't pass the smell test.

Likewise, I miss the more understated version of Maya’s connection to her family and to her ancestors. I get that, despite its Better Call Saul writer bona fides, Echo is a show aimed at general audiences, and so not everything is going to be as subtle. By god, Maya’s mom showing up, magically curing her emotional pain, and giving a speech that basically just spells out the themes of the show so bluntly is painful. The hard work of Maya’s emotional journey is all but hand-waved away through a deus ex machina who, to add insult to injury, announces the central ideas of the show rather than conveying them in a more artful fashion.

In other cliches, I’ve seen the “Hero self-actualizes by putting on their costume” thing too many times to count, so that has no force either. I can appreciate the gesture of Chla busting out her old sewing machine and using it to support her granddaughter. (And it’s nice to get one last appearance from Graham Greene.) But again, all the complexity is gone. Chula is now a force for good, and all is ostensibly forgiven.

I don’tg know. This finale is a real missed opportunity. There’s some interesting ideas here and there, mostly with Maya’s choice to spare and even save her tormentor. But everything else here is so facile, hackneyed, or cheap. Echo could never really decide whether it wanted to be a prestige drama or a generic superhero show, and unfortunately, its final statement leans much more into the latter.

On the whole, Echo is fine. The poor ending takes some of the bloom off the rose, and the shortcuts to Maya’s rekindling of her relationship with her family sap how meaningful the reunion can be. But there’s a few good action scenes and quality character moments to boast as well. I can't pretend I’d be in any hurry to rewatch it, but it’s better than at least half of the Netflix Defenders seasons it’s seemingly in continuity with, which is something for a mini-series aiming to play in the same corner of the Marvel sandbox.

[7.6/10] This is my favorite episode of the show to date because it gets to the heart of Echo. Maya Lopez is not just sundered between two worlds; she is pulled between two parental figures: Chula and Fisk. The hard truth is that she’s got deep anger for both, which makes it hard to find her footing in either realm, whether it’s Tamaha or New York. “Taloa” is a confrontation, hell even a reckoning, with both of them, which gives it a force that’s been intermittent at best in the mini-series to date.

I recently learned that Echo’s lead writers are a veteran from Better Call Saul and a veteran of various teen dramas, and I think that reflects in the show’s vacillating tone and tenor. Thankfully, despite some silliness, this episode leans into the former, and the Breaking Bad-style hard conversations between family members in both your real family and your crime family.

The main source of that silliness is Kingpin. Again, I get that this still a Marvel show, but his nigh-magical sign language translator device is goofy to the point of being distracting. In fairness to the creative team, the device serves a story purpose. Fisk would rather invest in advance technology than go to the personal trouble to learn how to sign. But it’s not the most elegant way to convey that idea, and it’s hard to take the (pretty important!) scenes where the device is used seriously.

Likewise, the scene of his “final lesson” left me rolling my eyes a bit. Fisk having his ASL translator killed to demonstrate the idea that “we are the only ones we can trust” to Maya is too cartoony for my tastes. It’s churlish for me to complain about such things while complimenting Breaking Bad, since Gus Fring pulled similar tricks in that storytelling universe. And again, it serves a purpose, with Maya realizing the way that Fisk manipulated her as much as he showed genuine care for her. But the over-the-top, “mature” comic book-style plot point felt like too much to me.

All of that said, I still liked Maya’s confrontations with Fisk. I still read him as an abuser, but one who thinks he’s doing right, who at least believes that he loves Maya, even if his means of showing her love is as twisted as he is. There’s a palpable tension when they sit down together, a venomous magnamity in Fisk who’s ostensibly come to make Maya his successor, and the bitter recriminations of a young woman who’s waking up to the way her surrogate father may have treated her like a tool rather than a loved one. The dialogue is a little on-the-nose, but the performance are good, and the interpersonal-dynamics between the characters are sharp, which counts for a lot.

Their closing confrontation in Kingpin’s hotel room compelled me just as much, if not more. In truth, I’d forgotten all about the backstory of Fisk’s hammer and his father’s murder that was depicted in Daredevil. It’s been a long time since that show’s first season, and yet, while the dialogue isn’t seamless, the script does a good job of providing context for audiences who understandably missed an only semi-canonical television series from nearly a decade ago.

But for those of us who did watch it, there is power in Kingpin handing Maya the implement he used to slay his own abusive and asking her to complete the cycle with him. There is an Emperor Palpatine-esque quality to his invitation: seeking a successor, wanting someone worthy, and wanting a resistant protégé to accept that role by taking them down. And in an episode that makes generational patterns repeating themselves, there is power in Maya refusing to perpetuate that cycle. She won’t become Fisk; she won’t inherit his personal pathologies and moral deficiencies. And that refusal comes with extra force given how much she’s like to wreak vengeance upon him for all that he’s done to her.

The confrontation with Chula is much more grounded, naturally. She’s a local grandmother, not a mob boss, after all. But it’s no less potent. Through her, Maya comes to understand the mystical experiences that have been affecting her of late. Therein comes the idea of generations echoing (hey! that’s like the name of the show!) off one another. We see it manifested in the women of Maya’s Chocktaw ancestry finding special strength in one another across time and space. We see it manifested in Maya reminding Chula so much of Maya’s mother. And we see it in Chula herself having the same sort of mystical experience in childbirth.

Here's where I’ll admit that I have major problems with the whole “I rejected Western medicine and just went into the woods so magic could help me with my serious medical condition instead” idea the show represents here. But taking it as a heightened reflection of strength and connection to a culture and community, I can’t deny the power of the imagery, or the meaning that comes from Chula bringing someone into this world who seemed to lift everyone around her, or the tragedy of ultimately losing her.

That’s what makes their confrontation the right kind of unsatisfying, in the way that tough conversations with family members reckoning through unresolvable issues should be. I wouldn’t necessarily call her sympathetic, but Chula is comprehensible in her fierce anger at Maya’s father for his “business” getting Maya’s mother killed, and she’s understandable in the pain she feels at seeing Maya and witnessing that reflection of a lost child.

But Maya is just as sympathetic in asking Chula, “How could you? Where were you when I needed you?” Maya did nothing wrong. And while Fisk takes the lion’s share of the blame in the way he indoctrinated Maya over the years, Chula bears some blame for severing her ties with a granddaughter who needed her, for not being a counterweight Maya could rely on at the expense of the poison Kingpin was dripping in the young girl’s ear, of expelling a small child who’d done nothing wrong along with the father Chula blamed for everything. The ways that Chula failed Maya still echo as much as the guidance she offers now.

That’s the kind of thing I love in my television shows. It’s the most interesting part of Echo -- the substance behind the high-octane battles that will no doubt be in heavy rotation in the season finale. And it gives the show it’s high water mark as Echo rolls into its final frame.

[6.7/10] So for my last write-up, I mentioned that Echo seemed to be influenced by True Detective in terms of the style and vibe it was aiming for. Well, this episode seemed to prove me wrong! Instead it felt closer to something like Burn Notice or other cable drama procedurals with an action bent.

I don’t know what to say. The confrontation with Kane at the skating rink felt alternatively ludicrous and generic. The small town goons who run-into the big city mob is a cliche. The whole “I’ll intimidate you,” “No I’ll intimidate you!” routine over and over again is even more so. The hostage situation and friends getting wrapped up in it is a hoary trope as well. And the characters themselves mostly felt like generic archetypes, even if the guy who played Kane at least had a presence.

Don’t get me started out on the combat stuff here. I suppose it’s silly to ask for realism in what is still a superhero show, but Echo seemed to be going for a more grounded tone. Now, apparently, she’s MacGuyver-ing projectile weapons out of a skater’s utility room, using arcade components like whips., and taking out professional killers with skee balls. Some of the action scenes in the show have been heightened, to be sure, but this is the first one that was nigh-impossible for me to take seriously.

Somewhere in the middle, there was a good sequence. Maya chasing the New York goons through the laser tag area made for an appropriately chaotic pursuit and dust-up situation with a cool aesthetic. And even a few moments like her kicking someone through the “Make America Skate Again” wall make up for in cool factor what they lose in plausibility.

But the vast majority of this episode is one grand set piece (or, series of set pieces, to be fair) at that location, and very little of it works.

Some of the character stuff is a little better. I appreciated the scene of Chula and Skully getting together to talk about Maya. They have a great dynamic, even if the dialogue is a little clunky. The idea that both Maya and Chula clearly harbor deep feelings about one another, positive or negative, but can't push themselves to talk to one another adds a standard but still potent personal angle to the proceedings.

I’m less moved by the chance reunion between Maya and Bonnie (even if it’s nice to see Reservation Dogs’ Devery Jacobs in the show). The fact that it happens with Bonnie getting wrapped up in the loony skating rink assault scenario feels contrived, and the over-the-tipo situation they’re reunited in saps the event of its emotional force. The moment demands some realism to land, and “Tuklo” has little of it to spare.

There are a few things in this one that I did appreciate. Chaske Spencer, who plays Henry, does a superb job in this, and so giving him a few more notes to play is a plus. Him wanting to stay out of it, but choosing to fight with Maya once the war comes home is a good beat for the character. I also appreciate the fact that despite all her badassery, Maya loses. On theme, it’s because people she cares about have been put in harm’s way, which proves a vulnerability to her and to them. That's on theme, and the fact that iIt takes Kingpin’s last minute intervention to save her further muddies the waters between the two worlds she’s being pulled into.

I also like the idea, realized in both literal and figurative terms, that Maya is imbued with the power of the women who have come before her. The silent film homage didn’t work especially well for me, but I’ve cottoned to the fact that we’re seeing Choctaw women from the past to the present stepping up in key moments, and that they’re linked in a chain not just through their powers, but in their boldness and courage when the moment calls for it. The magic powers angle honestly feels kind of unnecessary, but it’s not like Marvel has eschewed that sort of thing in its street level heroes thus far.

Not for nothing, the last five minutes is a high point. Maybe I’m a sucker, but a beautiful song playing while Maya considers reconciling with her friend but instead drives off pushed the right melancholy buttons for me. And as a tease, Kingpin showing up in Maya’s backyard, practically seeming like a ghost, at a moment when her ties to the criminal world of New York and her ties to the Choctaw world she left in Tamaha are at their most fraught, is outstanding.

Overall, the main event here is exceedingly weak, but there’s some positives around the margins.

[7.2/10[ Hey! That's more the speed I’m familiar with from these kinds of projects!

What the hell was that train sequence? For one thing, it feels like a giant cliche, with tons of off-the-shelf problems and improbable solutions. But for another, it just looked bad. The compositing was off and the whole thing felt unreal in an unpleasant way. That can work in some of the MCU’s more cosmic settings, since you’re already in a heightened environment. But within the more grounded tone and setting of Echo, that kind of conspicuous effects work is extra jarring.

That said, despite having a bit of the same unreality problems the train sequence did, I actually really liked the Choctaw stickball set piece at the beginning. The idea of Echo being able to summon the help of her ancestors, in a way that's stretched across generations, is an interesting one. But even just the texture of seeing it happen in the past at a critical moment draws you in. I’ve been trying to figure out what touchstone Echo reminds me of, and I think it’s True Detective, not just for the catchy intro, but for this quiet sense of magical realism at the edges of the frame, starting to creep their way in.

The same tone pervades Maya’s adventures back in Tamaha. I’ll admit, despite not liking the train sequence, the scene where Maya’s bomb goes off and blows up Kingpin’s armory in New York rocks. I appreciate the idea that she is a child of two worlds, someone who is still of this place in Oklahoma and connected on a spiritual level to her people, but one who’s also been raised, in some ways, by Kingpin, and indoctrinated into his way of thinking. Seeing those worlds collide in her war against her surrogate father is cool.

It’s also nice seeing a little more glimpse of the world Maya was taken from. The particular ecosystem of Biscuits not wanting to tick off his grandmother, but inadvertently letting Bonnie know that Maya’s in town, while Chola catches word and confronts Henry, gives you the sense of how these people’s lives are connected. Maya can't avoid that forever, and I’m intrigued to see how things shake out once her family members start confronting her.

My favorite part, though, may be her interactions with Skully. Graham Greene has such a presence, so seeing him interact with some out-of-town schmucks or banter with Biscuits or work tirelessly to repair Echo’s prosthetic leg all carry an extra spark from his personality alone.

Overall, the non-action scenes, while still a bit predictable, were more my thing this episode, while the grand fireworks-filled action set piece was a low point. At least it’s familiar!

[7.4/10] A movie can live on good vibes alone. Don’t think too hard about the mechanics of a planet that can only communicate in song, or the logistics of the digestion habits and transportation of dozens of alien kittens, or the mechanics of the light-based entanglement of The Marvels trio of leads. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. If you can do that, you’re in for a good time.

The best part of 2019’s Captain Marvel was the buddy comedy between Carol Danvers and Nick Fury. Its more ecumenical sequel smartly leans into that, giving audiences the great buddy comedy of Carol and her new chums: surrogate niece, Monica Rambeau and young admirer Kamala Khan. And Fury is back for good measure, not only trading some laugh-worthy lines with the Marvels, but also amusingly bouncing off the rest of the Khan family and his subordinates. This movie thrives on banter and the charm of the proceedings, even if you have to leave sense at the door.

The charm is good, because beyond the science fiction-y, quasi-magical confluence of nonsense going on here, the character arcs are pretty thin here too. Captain Marvel is haunted by the consequence of her destroying the Supreme Intelligence had on the Kree homeworld, consequences that mostly happen off-screen and so have little impact. Monica is salty that Carol never returned despite promising to, and Captain Marvel’s decision not to is tied to that Kree catastrophe through a gossamer thin thread, which Monica forgives for reasons that are no firmer.

And Kamala Khan gets to meet her hero and, but for one minor bump in the road...it pretty much goes great. I don’t know what Ms. Marvel’s arc is supposed to be here. She dreams of being an Avenger and then basically gets to be one, I guess?

Still, I can't complain because Iman Vellani continues to be a revelation in the role, and Ms. Marvel continues to be the best new hero the MCU has introduced since Endgame. Her flummoxed-but-unruffled disposition, starry-eyed desire to do good, and sheer giddiness at getting to team up with her hero continue to win the day. The combination of empathy, enthusiasm, and relatable kid-dealing-with-parents energy the character brings to the table makes her stand out yet again.

The movie’s big silly set pieces are also just charming. The film makes the most of the thinly-sketched conceit that Carol, Monica, and Kamala are “entangled” via their light-based powers, and thus switch places every time they use their powers. The chaotic absurdity when they’re getting a handle on the swaps and squaring off against bad guys everywhere from an alien space station to S.A.B.E.R. headquarters to the Khans’ living room is a treat. The montage where The Marvels learn how to use their powers and have a ball testing them out is endearing for all three of them. And it ties into the movie’s vague theme about the three of them coming together and working best when they’re a part of a team.

Granted, the film’s action varies between inscrutable and bad. The Marvels can get away with a little bit of confounding combat, given the place-swapping conceit of the team’s powers. But even when they’ve mastered it, or are mostly fighting one-on-one, the fisticuffs are chopped all to hell in the editing bay, with indifferent results. In the same vein, the CGI here is a cut below, with unconvincing mid-air green screening and artificial backdrops, a not-ready-for-primetime fully-animated Beast, and full-powered over-glowy versions of Captain Marvel and Monica Rambeau that just look silly.

This level of craft might be forgivable for a mid-range project, but coming from one of the most successful movie studios in the world, they should be able to do better. WIth complaints about crunch and process from effects teams, the shabby results affirm that some rethinking of the whole approach is in order.

But some of that is forgivable with the loony charm of other set pieces in the film. As little sense as it makes, The Marvels’ visit to a planet that communicates entirely in song is terrific. In the humor department, Carol’s tenseness at being the planet’s princess strictly for “political reasons”, Monica being resistant to the whole deal, and Kamala absolutely reveling in it is a complete delight. Likewise, don’t ask why Nick Fury can depend on a bunch of newborn alien cats to keep his S.A.B.E.R. team in their stomachs for a whole spaceship ride, conveniently without gulping down any of the main characters, and just enjoy the goofy imagery of a litter of kittens gobbling up space accountants.

The only weak point that really gets in the way is the villain. Dar-Benn has a decent gripe -- that Captain Marvel, whom she dubs “The Annihilator” disrupted her world. She has an appropriately evil scheme -- stealing climate and resources from other worlds. And Zawe Ashton gives a solid performance. Dar--Benn’s just wildly underdeveloped, feels tossed into the proceedings rather than a vital part of them, and gets dispatched without much real trouble.

It doesn’t help that the nature of The Marvels’ powers is fuzzy as all hell, which isn’t a major problem, except that it’s vital to the plot. Dar-Benn is absorbing Carol’s powers to exert her schemes. But she’s also mixing some power from her big “cosmic rod” which messes things up. But she also has a matching bangle to the one Kamala inherited in the Ms. Marvel show. But it’s no problem, because Carol can just peel those off when she tackles Dar-Benn into a big interdimensional rift. But that's fine, because Monica apparently has the power to absorb the energy from that rift and seal it, even if it sends her to an X-Men universe. And it turns out Dar-Benn’s whole project was unnecessary, since all it took was a pep talk and some technobabble for Captain Marvel to realize she can use her powers to restart the Kree homeworld’s sun anyway. Phew.

It’s all a big nonsense stew. But you know what? In a “phase” that has left many MCU fans disappointed, he Marvels feels like classic Phase One or Phase Two Marvel. Yes, the villain is forgettable and the plot is held together by popsicle sticks and bubble gum, but there’s charm out the wazoo. Kamala, Monica, and Carol have an incredibly fun dynamic together. Nick Fury bouncing off of them and Kamala’s family is a treat and a laugh every time. This is light adventure, heavy on the light, and it’s not afraid of having a good time at the expense of pure soundness of construction throughout the movie.

It’s an approach that's worked well for the MCU for a long time. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy rollicking potboilers and clearer character stories as much as anybody. But regardless of whether The Marvels adds up to a greater whole, it is a fun watch on a scene-to-scene basis. In an era where more and more superhero films feel the need to present some vital lore or try to cram complicated character work between the mandatory fireworks shows, there’s something refreshing about a film that puts on a coat of paint for both, but saves most of its fire for simply being entertaining. On charm and fun alone, The Marvels is a good time at the movies.

[7.210] “Chafa” is a weird episode for me. It seems like most of the show is trying to be an AMC-style prestige drama, and I love AMC-style prestige dramas! And for a brief interlude, it seems like the show is trying to be the spiritual to those gritty Netflix Defenders shows, and by the end, I got so exhausted by those gritty Netflix Defenders shows.

And yet, when this was trying to be a spiritual meditation on a person experiencing tragedy and finding their direction through homes and father figures both old and new, it felt pretty flat and even tiresome. And when it was doing that now-standard Netflix Defenders unbroken hallway fight scene, it was downright riveting, so I don’t know what to do with this one, or myself really.

I will say that I initially rolled my eyes at Maya and the two Kingpin goons throwing down with a bunch of rival gangsters. I appreciate a solid oner, but the camera work seemed over the top, and there was an odd, almost green screen effect to it that took me out of the moment. But once they got through the melee potion, and it was pretty much just Maya locking horns with various goons, it became much clearer visually and more exciting psychologically. And the late entrance of Daredevil kicked things up a notch on both fronts.

Oners can be gimmicky. And you can see the seams and the cuts in a few place.s That said, I can't tell you how refreshing it feels to see hand-to-hand combat visualized without choppy editing, to where you can easily follow the flow and geography of the fight in a way that most modern action, superhero and otherwise, makes a complete hash of. So if all this first episode gave us was the extended fight between Maya, the bad guys, and Daredevil it would be worthwhile on that front.

That said, I do appreciate “Chafa” bringing us up to speed on what is essentially Maya’s origin story and how she got to the present moment. I seem to recall we got bits and pieces of this in the Hawkeye show that Echo spun off of. But I gotta admit, Hawkeye feels like a long time ago, and I wasn’t super engaged with it, so the details are fuzzy. Recapitulating them here through Maya as a protagonist, not a side character, is welcome, and the additions to the story help situate where she is in the plot and in life.

That said, there’s a ton of cliches here. The kid who loses her parent in a car accident and blames themselves feels very stock. Moving from a rustic locale to the big city and then returning home as an adult is another big cliche. And if you’re a white male age 18-49 (to where everyone listens to you, no matter how dumb your ideas are!), you've seen ten million “gangsters run this town” stories, so it’s hard for Echo to distinguish itself on that front.

Thankfully, there is the Choctaw culture and deaf community inclusions that help distinguish Echo somewhat. I’ll admit, the visualization of the Choctaw legend at the beginning threw me off and made me wonder if I had the right show. But the sense of these communities with their own ecosystems and intersections and concerns does help infuse the series with something to elevate it above the bundle of cliches it offers in the early going.

Of course, there’s also the return of Vincent D’Onofrio’s Kingpin, and what can I say, I’m a sucker for it. The casting remains perfect, both physically and in terms of presence, and I’m interested to see how the show aims to develop the character within the MCU. The idea of him as a surrogate father figure who was responsible for the death of Maya’s actual father motivates the show well, and I’m interested to see where they go with it. Not for nothing, in the light of D’Onofrio’s turn in Ed Wood, there’s a real “older Charles Foster Kane” vibe to Kingpin here, which I appreciate.

Overall, this one flips my usual expectations and preferences for television, with the more languid and meditative parts that could be in any serious drama dragging things down, and the standard issue superhero fighting scene being the thing that maintained my interest. But I’m at least curious to see where the show goes from here, now that it’s done setting the table and can start eating the meal it’s prepared.

[7.1/10] So here’s the problem -- I don’t really care about Pabu. That's not necessarily The Bad Batch’s fault. I think the show has dutifully established what this town means to Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker, and what it represents for them as a safe haven. But the other side of the coin is that, given the passage of time between seasons, I’m not sure I could name a single one of the characters who resides there, or recall what exactly their significance is to our heroes. (I vaguely remember Omega being friends with Lyana and Wrecker having a moment of camaraderie with Mayor Shep, but that's about it.) That means it’s more of a generic setting than an important place to me as a viewer. So for me at least, the idea of “Pabu is home” works in theory, but not really in practice, lacking the impact that, say, watching the Empire destroy the Marauder has.

Which is all to say that I get what The Bad Batch is going for here. The Shadow Agent has arrived! He’s brought Stormtroopers to their safe and sacred place! They’re hurting innocent people! Omega has no choice but to go with them to stop the suffering!

But it doesn’t really land for me emotionally. Some of it’s just that the pacing of this one is all over the place There’s a long slow build, and even once the Empire arrives, it’s a bunch of muddy and indifferent action, without much to latch onto as a viewer. I can, in principle, appreciate Wrecker getting incapacitated in the explosion, Hunter getting sidelined trying to grab a transport, and the locals seeing their livelihood destroyed. But without a more personal connection, much of this feels like standard piece-moving and table-setting for the final stretch of the series. I understand why the show needs to do these things, and the violation it’s supposed to feel like, but the stakes don’t really land and neither do the emotions.

There’s a few points worth noting. For one, the fact that the Shadow Agent is able to snipe a stormtrooper from seemingly miles way strongly suggests he’s a clone of Crosshair, which portends interesting things. While I can see the seams a little too plainly, the best thing this episode does to establish Pabu as important is making it the home for Tech’s glasses and Omega/Wrecker’s plush, sacred objects in The Bad Batch’s corner of the universe.

Most of all, I appreciate that on Omega’s journey to maturity, she is now willing to give herself up, put herself in harm’s way, both to save the villagers of Pabu, but also in a bid to rescue the clones who are still trapped on Tantiss. There is a selflessness, a courage, a righteousness to Omega that bears out. The interplay between ehr perspective and Crosshair’s this season ahs been a particular highlight. The way he tells her this isn’t a viable plan, and she responds “It’s all we have” shows not only how Omega’s grown, not only the bravery she displays on a daily basis, but the sense of self-sacrifice she’s picked up from Tech.

The most tension “The Point of No Return” can offer comes in the plan to track Omega’s jaunt to Tantiss. Her giving up her comms to the Shadow Agent as a feint, only for Crosshair’s secondary tracker to miss comes freighted with expectation and disappointment. And Omega’s sigh when she’s on the Shadow Agent’s transport, suggests there’s another layer to the plan, but also perhaps just a sense of exhaustion, of resolve, of that franchise trademark hope within the young clone heading back to the site of her captivity.

I can't say I loved this one. It strikes me as a more functional episode than a purely riveting one. But it does leave me impressed with the show’s main character, and excited to see what happens next, so it must be doing something right.

[7.0/10] Back in the halcyon days of the summer of 2012, we anticipated the superhero overload of The Dark Knight Rises and The Avengers coming out one right after another. One fan described the pairing as akin to a well-seasoned filet mignon followed by a heaping plate of seven-layer nachos. The latter was substantive and nourishing, the latter a less substantial but still tasty cacophony of flair.

I don't necessarily agree with that read on the films, before or after I saw them, but it’s a reminder that superhero stories can be a lot of different things. They can be dramatic, serious works. Or they can be light adventures filled with whimsy. I’d argue that the cinch of the MCU is that it managed to walk that line: offering capers that were light and fun in tone, but which often had something more substantive on their mind. Regardless, both modes are valid. It’s wonderful when a comic book movie shows the potential of the medium with something grounded and poignant. And it can be just as worthwhile to have something that is, perhaps less an achievement of the human soul, but still successful as a bushel full of awesome.

Which is all to say that What If’s season 2 finale is mostly the latter, and that's okay. There is a touch of substance here. The script draws a dichotomy between Strange Supreme and Captain Carter. Dr. Strange would burn the rest of the multiverse to get the woman he loves back, and Captain Carter would give up her deepest desire, the chance to start again with Steve, in order to save a multiverse full of people she doesn't know. Both are driven by love, and yet what distinguishes them is the extent to which they’ll countenance what the people they’ve loved and lost would really want. The representation of that as a monster within Stephen Strange is a little on-the nose, and his last minute change of heart feels tacked on. But there is poignance in Peggy turning away from her fantasy to fight the good fight, and poetry in Stephen’s self-sacrifice being the thing that brings the love of his life back, albeit with the bitter irony that he’s no longer a part of that universe.

I don’t want to downplay that. There’s a strong, character focused idea there, which connects to brother ideas about the multiverse and personal tragedies and honoring legacies. But it feels like it’s roughly 10-15% of the episode.

The other 85-90% is, well, a cavalcade of maximalist Marvel mash-ups and stacking comic book-y silliness. Aside from a few throwbacks to season 1’s zombies and others, Peggy smashing open the containers of other heroes and villains is mostly an excuse to play “spot the reference” in a royal rumble’s worth of combatants. Only, ti’s too muddy and dense to catch more than a handful without going frame by frame, which makes the lot seem more like stuffing than something essential to the fight.

But again, this is an outing that “runs on awesome” rather than sound storytelling, so there’s something to be said for just kicking back and appreciating the toybox sensibility of pouring out all your action figures and having them do battle with one another.

Likewise, the fight amongst Captain Carter, Strange Supreme, and Kohorri is...pretty meaningless. Between Strange’s fuzzy-at-best magic powers, Kohorri’s seemingly unlimited abilities, and Captain Carter’s do-anything infinity armor, there’s no real rules or limitations to their fight. I’m not saying What If needs to lay out a complicated system of Magic the Gathering-style rules for what trumps what, but in a three-way matchup of “who can magic the hardest”, it’s hard to invest too much in which any of them can theoretically do anything. There’s no real stakes, no real cleverness to the finish, or problem-solving; just a lot of “I do a cool thing” “Now you do a cool thing” “Now you do a cooler thing!”

Even the departing heroes and villains tossing their weapons and armor to Peggy and Kohorri rings false since it’s not really clear how/why that stuff is an improvement over their existing tech. There’s some nice enough symbolism to it, with an array of other fighters trying to lend what strength they can given the multiversal stakes of it all. But the whole exercise rings pretty hollow.

Still, it helps if you think of it in that mega mash-up framing, where this is less about the story making sense or having narrative progression, and more about playing out the Rule of Awesome in as grand guignol a manner as possible. In that, it succeeds, even if it leaves me craving a bit more substance and, well, sense by the end, rather than feeling satisfied by the show’s grand finale.

But hey, after a long fight, Peggy gets to go home, and even gets a glimpse of the multiversal tree from Loki for good measure. I might have asked for something different given my personal preferences, but I can't fault What If for going for the “seven layer nachos” approach to its big climax. There’s certainly a lot here, and it’s flavorful, even as much of it ends up feeling like empty calories.

[7.9/10] A funny thing happens as you get older. Children stop being peers. They stop being those bratty things you have to put up with as a teenager. They’re no longer the little ones you see, but aren’t really responsible for as a young adult.

And somewhere along the line, they start becoming these small people that you need to protect, to look out for, to support, to nurture. You recognize, in a way that's hard when you’re younger, how vulnerable they are, how much they depend on the folks who’ve been through the wringer and know the perils of the world to make sure they’re okay.

Kids are not naive innocents. They have the same vibrance and diversity of thought and feeling and attitude their grown-up counterparts do. But they need help, your help, and that realization is humbling and more than a little scary.

Which is all to say that “Identity Crisis” hits harder when you realize you’re no longer a ten-year-old imagining what it’d be like to be Luke Skywalker hacking and slashing through stormtroopers, and instead, you’re a crusty old grown-up struck by what it’d be like to be the Luke Skywalker who’s been entrusted to look after his nephew and see that he goes down the right path.

I assumed that what lie behind the trooper-protected doors of “The Vault” was something expected: a bunch of jars of pickled Snokes, a few budding attempts at cloning Palpatine, maybe a few more deformed Clone Troopers or something. The last thing I expected was a small collection of imprisoned children, and it draws out the evil of the Empire in a way that few things could.

This is one of the more harrowing episodes of The Bad Batch. I can easily stand blaster fire and dogfights among commandos. I can readily handle life-or-death fights between good guys and bad guys, even if feisty Omega is in the fray. What’s harder to withstand is a toddler, who weeps without his plushy, being torn from his mother. What’s more difficult to stomach is seeing young force-sensitives imprisoned, who only want to return home, and are treated like indifferent property rather than people.

It’s devastating to watch, and The Bad Batch is counting on that. This is (I think?) the first episode of the show that doesn’t feature a single moment of Omega or Clone Force 99. This is all about Emerie Karr stepping into a bigger role and realizing the horrors it would require of her. It is seeing the depths of what she’s participating in, trying to suck it up and do her job, only for her to be moved by the plight of the young souls she’s supposed to treat like chattel.

There is great power in that. “Identity Crisis” has some cool moments for longtime fans. Tarkin’s appearances are always a pip. The back channel negotiations and rivalries of Imperial politics always intrigues. We learn that Omega isn’t necessarily a force-sensitive herself, but rather her genetic material can act as a “binder” for DNA from other force-sensitives, which is a welcome swerve. And The return of Cad Bane and Todo is always a plus. (I should have known Bane was in the offing once I heard Seth Green voice one of the random villagers.)

But for the most part, this is a more stark story, about someone recognizing the abject cruelty they’re a part of, and not being able to turn their heart away from it once they do. The callousness with which Dr. Hemlock encourages Dr. Karr not to become attached to tiny people asking for help and solace, the casual dispassion with how Cad Bane kidnaps a child and practically taunts Emerie for asking too many questions, all reveal a rot in the soul that must have taken hold for someone to be so unconcerned with the welfare of blameless children caught up in the machinery of the Empire.

Not for nothing, there’s a political charge to this story. It is hard to see children ripped from their parents, families ratted out by opportunistic neighbors, and most pointedly, kids in cages, without thinking about the current moment. The Bad Batch is not the first show to suggest a regime is evil by treating young ones this way, but it comes with extra bite in the wake of American policies that are not so different.

The message here is affecting -- that it’s hard for anyone with a heart not to be moved by such terrible things being visited upon little people who don’t deserve it. Dr. Karr wanting to step up, to replace Nala Se, only to see what the Kaminoan saw and realize why she did what she did, makes her change of heart palpable and meaningful.

Because she sees little Jax try desperately to escape and be harshly stopped and punished; she sees little Eva ask plaintively when she gets to go home; she sees a small infant torn from its mother whose tender age is treated like a boon to compliance, not a crime against an innocent, and cannot help but care.

I still love the stories of heroes choosing good with lightsabers and magic powers. I still love badasses leaping through the galaxy and fighting for the good. But the more real acts of evil, and more mundane acts of kindness move me more these days. And all the more, I understand how what could turn your heart, are these tiny beings who need your help, and witnessing an institution that would ignore their suffering, or worse yet, make it the point.

[7.7/10] Let’s start with the easy compliment and the easy criticism.

The easy compliment is this: Shakespearean Actor Loki is downright delightful. Letting Tom Hiddleston dive into the role of “drama queen” with self-satisfied aplomb is hilarious with every glimpse we get. And him jawing about Iago in Othello and responding with approval to Peggy’s sobriquets tickled my funny bone something fierce.

The easy criticism is this: none of the characters feel especially 1602. This is basically just the Avengers as we know them, except wearing old timey garb. It’s still fun to see them prance around Elizabethan London and whatnot, but it feels like everyone is a being out of time, not just Peggy.

Well, except for Happy Hogan. I will say, if there’s a particularly fun character “transformation” here, it’s reimagining Happy as a Sheriff of Nottingham/Captain Hook/Governor Radcliffe type. Jon Favreau is clearly having a ball hamming it up, and his black hat (er...feathered hat) swashbuckling with the good guys, and irascible annoyance when they best him is the most distinctive part of the outing.

That said, even if all the other characters feel too modern, I like the setup. The idea that this dimension is crumbling; it’s due to a “forerunner” from another world being in their reality, and Captain Carter has to find them despite being a fugitive to save the world and herself, creates both immediate and ultimate goals for everyone here. Thor blaming Peggy for his sister’s death is a little strained, but I’ll tolerate it as an excuse for Peggy to get the band together.

And Peggy may be the best part of this one. It’s fun to see 1600s Tony jury-rig contraptions with the tech of his era. The trio of merry men in the form of “Rodgers Hood”, Bucky, and Ant-Man have an amusing dynamic. Banner as “The Monster in the Iron Mask” is a bit of a stretch, but Hulk’s complaints about it being too noisy got a laugh out of me. And I appreciate that, despite being at King Thor’s side, Fury and Wanda are working together on their own for the greater good.

But this is really a showcase for Peggy. I love the idea that the Watcher offers to take her back to her home dimension, and she tells him no, there are people who need her help here. She isn’t going to give up; she isn’t going to care about her own skin at the expense of everyone else’s; she’s going to stick around and do what’s right, even if she has to put herself at risk to do it. The Watcher may think it’s hopeless, and may reason that worlds disintegrate all the time, but Captain Carter still has to try. That's who she is.

Of course, she has to try with Steve Rodgers. I’ll admit, there’s less immediate chemistry between the cel-shaded version of Peggy and Steve (and maybe it’s having the inimitable-but-different Josh Keaton voicing Rodgers instead of Chris Evans). But there’s still enough residual affection for the pairing from the movies to buy into Peggy and Steve reunited, even if it’s a different Peggy and Steve.

And that's the rub. I like how both Captain Carter and The Watcher are right in this. In an inspiring moment, Peggy says she doesn’t care about the odds or the risks, she has to try to save this world, and by god, she does. The Watcher was ready to let it rot, and she stepped up, and through an entertaining and daring caper, she saves it.

But in a just as memorable scene, The Watcher challenges her about the unknown consequences of her actions. He pointedly asks her a series of “What If’s about things that could go wrong even if she does manage to fix the dimension. And as in most good stories, it turns out there is a cost to her actions -- the “forerunner” is Steve.

That is a hell of a twist. They faked me out nicely, as I assumed (and I think they deliberately hinted) that it was Happy. The truth is much more surprising and devastating, in the best way. If there’s been a consistent theme to the stories of Steve and Peggy in the MCU, it’s been that doing the right thing often means paying a price. Peggy being willing to take the risk, and Steve being willing to sacrifice himself to protect this world, and Peggy losing the man she loves yet again, is a bitter pill for a good cause. Good on What If for having the cleverness and the guts to go there.

Otherwise, there’s some fun 1602 conceits like the mini-Yellowjacket soldiers and the Destroyer, and it’s cool to see real life London landmarks like the Globe and the Tower in play. But overall, this one doesn’t so much live or die on the back of its Elizabethan conceit, but rather on the great character storytelling and themes of Captain Carter saving the world once more, and once more, losing someone she loves in the process.

[7.2/10] Star Trek: Discovery does a better job of telling the audience that a relationship is important than spurring us to feel that importance. Your mileage may vary, of course, but across the series, characters have these soulful conversations about how much they mean to one another, and it’s rare, if not unprecedented, for the show to have earned that emotion through lived-in dynamics and experiences that believably bring two characters closer together.

But Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green) and Saru (Doug Jones) are one of the big exceptions. They’re the two characters on the show who’ve arguably changed the most over the course of the series. Michael went from disgraced mutineer to respected captain. Saru went from a timid, by-the-book stiff to a more open and adventurous officer. And,as is Star Trek tradition, along the way, through hardship and heroism, they went from being mutual skeptics of one another to trusted friends.

Where so many of the friendships in Discovery fall flat, Michael and Saru are among the few who play with the ease and care of genuine confidantes. So an episode like “Under the Twin Moons” comes with the power of (supposedly) being Saru’s last hurrah as a Starfleet officer and, more importantly, his final mission alongside Michael Burnham.

In truth, the mission itself is no great shakes. The latest break in the Progenitor case sees the duo beaming down to the planet of the week, a lost world protected by one of those ancient technological security systems that Captain Kirk and company seemed to run into every third episode. The art direction work is laudable, with some neat designs of the weathered statues and other remnants of the fallen civilization, and a cluttered jungle locale that comes off more real and tactile than most of Discovery’s more sterile environments.

But this largely comes off as video game plotting, even before the show reveals that the Progenitor mission is essentially one massive fetch quest. The sense of skulking around old ruins, avoiding weathered booby traps, and using special abilities to avoid obstacles and find clues will be familiar to anyone who’s played Jedi: Fallen Order from the other half of the marquee sci-fi franchise dichotomy, or even precursors like the Zelda series of games. The challenges the away team faces feel more like perfunctory obstacles than meaningful threats to be overcome.

Still, these obstacles accomplish two things, however conspicuously. For one, they show Saru’s value to Starfleet in his alleged last mission. He shoots down ancient security bots with his quills. He attracts and evades their fire with his superspeed. He detects the hidden code with his ability to detect bioluminescence. And he’s able to use his strength to move a large obelisk back and forth to find the last piece of the puzzle. On a physical basis, it’s not bad having a Kelpian on your side.

More to the point, he also looks out for Michael. There’s a nice low-simmering conflict between them, where Michael wants to save Saru so he can enjoy the bliss of his civilian life with T’Rina, and Saru wants to fulfill his duty as any other officer would and protect his friend. In an episode themed around frayed connections between people, it’s nice to see that tension play out in an organic, selfless way between these two longtime comrades. Their ability to work together to solve problems, figure out puzzles, and most importantly, put their necks out for one another (in some cases literally), does more to honor Saru’s place in the series than all the Kelpien superpowers in the galaxy.

For another, they give Tilly (Mary Wiseman), Adira (Blu del Barrio), and eventually Captain Rayner the chance to do something science-y to help Michael and Saru down on the planet. Granted, their “Why don’t we use an ancient electrio-magnetic pulse?” solution strains credulity a bit, and Rayner’s advice boiling down to “You need to think like an ancient civilization” isn’t that insightful. But it gives a couple of the show’s players something to do, and reveals, however ham handedly, not only Rayner’s facility in the field, but his willingness to help out even when he doesn’t have to.

That's a good thing, since he’s joining the cast as the new first officer (something portended by Callum Keith Rennie’s addition to the opening credits. The dialogue to get him there is clunky, with thudding comments from Admiral Vance (Oded Fehr) and Burnham about Rayner being a good man despite some poor choices born of tougher times. But after only a couple of episodes, Rayner is a welcome addition -- a fly in the ointment for a now-cozy crew, bolstered by Rennie’s vividly irascible performance.

While the signposting is a little much, the idea that Burnham does not just want a first officer who’s capable, but one who’ll have the guts to challenge her and her perspective is a good one. That approach puts her in the good company of Captain Picard, among others, and shows a humility and an openness in Michael that's commendable. Her willingness to give someone else a second chance, given what the one she received allowed her to accomplish, speaks well of the still-new Captain, and adds some poetry with Discovery’s first season in its unexpected final one.

On a meta level, this is also an interesting thematic tack for the series. Rayner is coded as conservative, battle-hardened, even sclerotic in a way that clashes with traditional Starfleet principles. The idea that he has a place on the bridge, that his viewpoint is worthwhile, and most notably, that he can be brought into the light of Starfleet’s new dawn, fits with the aspirational tone of Star Trek. It’s worth watching how the character arc, and the ideas and subtext in tow, play out from here.

The same can't be said for Book’s (David Ajala) interactions with Moll (Eve Harlow) and L'ak (Elias Toufexis). The show wants to make some trite yet strained point about bonds between individuals in the already-tortured estrangement between him and Michael. The tired pop psychology from Dr. Culber (Wilson Cruz) doesn’t help on that front. But worse yet is the acknowledged unlikely coincidence that Moll is the daughter of Book’s mentor and surrogate father, a contrived familial connection that attempts to gin up through genealogy what the show can't from character-building alone.

Except when it can. The mission may be stock, and the surrounding plot threads may be underbaked, but the goodbye between Michael and Saru is legitimately touching. From Michael nursing Saru through his harrowing transformation, to Saru counseling Michael through good times and bad in her ascent up the ranks, the pair have blossomed into genuine confidantes over the course of the last four seasons. It did not always come easily, but that's what makes their connection now, and the parting poised to strain it, such a poignant, bittersweet moment between two friends.

Who knows if it will stick. Dr. Culbert came back from the dead. Tilly’s back in the fold despite leaving for Starfleet Academy. Saru himself returned to the ship despite ostensibly leaving to become a “great elder” on Kaminar. Discovery doesn’t have a great track record of sticking to major character exits.

For now, at least, Saru gets a swan song not only worthy of what the character, and Doug Jones’ impeccable performance, has meant to the series over the past seven years, but also of what, unassumingly, became one of the series’ strongest relationships. Michael will keep flying. Saru will hopefully enjoy some wedded bliss. But as “Under the Twin Moons” reminds us, they’ve both left a mark on the other that will stay with both of them, wherever they finally end up.

[6.1/10] The knock on Star Trek: Discovery is that everything is too big. Everything is a world-ending calamity. Every emotion is cranked up to eleven. Every mission is the most serious and important challenge Starfleet has ever faced.

“Red Directive” does nothing to shed that rap. We open with Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green) yahoo-ing while surfing on the back of an enemy ship in warp drive, before cutting to a cliched “four hours earlier” bit of drama-mortgaging. A pair of smugglers named Moll (Eve Harlow) and L'ak (Elias Toufexis), with the MacGuffin du jour, get into a standard issue bout of fisticuffs with some nameless/faceless goons. Burnham, Book (David Ajala), and new frenemy Captain Rayner (Battlestar Galactica veteran Callum Keith Rennie) dodge boulders and other debris in an immersion-breaking artificial sandscape pursuit of the pair of pirates. And the ensuing rockslide which threatens to crush a nearby village is only halted by Discovery and another Federation vessel diving nose-first into the sand to block the onslaught, with neither the ships nor their crews seemingly any worse for wear.

Look, this is a season premiere. Some fireworks are expected. And in a stretch for the franchise where new kid on the block Strange New Worlds seems to have stolen much of Discovery’s thunder as the franchise flagship, you can practically feel the creative team pulling out all the stops to keep viewers excited and invested, even if it means leaning into accusations of always going big.

That includes invoking The Next Generation. The item Burnham and company are chasing is no mere trinket or weapon. It is, instead, the technology used by the Progenitors from 1993’s “The Chase” to create all humanoid life as we know it. This top secret mission, issued by Dr. Kovich (David Cronenberg), mirrors the one embarked upon by none other than Captain Picard centuries earlier, with clues to follow laid by an important Romulan scientist/background player from the decades-old episode.

In that, “Red Directive” falls into two familiar traps. The first is one shared by Strange New World, specifically the need to tie nearly everything into some familiar piece of franchise lore rather than starting fresh. Only, Discovery’s issue is that much more damning given its “millennium into the future” timeframe, with the whole point being a chance to refresh and reset rather than staying constrained by canon from fifty years earlier.

This episode is not above such pandering connections. In fact, the seedy antiques dealer Moll and L’ak do business with is a Data-esque synth named Fred who shares the famous android’s aesthetic and penchant for speed-reading. In a painful scene, Stamets (Anthony Rapp) and Dr. Culber (Wilson Cruz) even remark that Fred’s serial number reflects the initials of Altan Soong, a long lost Soong baby and Star Trek: Picard’s most unnecessary character (which is saying something).

Earned canon connections are the thrill of existing within the same storytelling universe, particularly one that has lasted more than half a century. But these ties come off more like cheap fanservice and strained ties to more beloved properties than organic connections to Discovery’s ongoing project.

That might be a forgivable excess though if “Red Directive” didn’t fall into the second trap, of near constant escalation in Discovery’s stakes. Kovich remains cagey about Burnham’s mission for most of the hour, beyond a “recover this item at all costs” sense of dramatics to it all. Even Admiral Vance (Oded Fehr) isn’t under the tent on it. And when Kovich finally spills the beans, after more blunt underlining of what a big deal this quest is, he calls it a search for “the greatest treasure in the known galaxy.”

The best you can say is that the season 5 premiere aims to keep the volume lower for its interpersonal relationships. A cringeworthy scene where Tilly (Mary Wiseman) awkwardly attempts to flirt with a wet rag colleague she has an obvious crush on is about the worst of it. But the adorably chaste romance between Saru (Doug Jones) and T’Rina (Tara Rosling) continues apace and fares much better. The Kelpien chooses to resign his commission to take a job as a Federation ambassador that would keep him closer to his lady love, and in response, T’Rina offers a Hank Hill-esque marriage proposal. The writing isn’t subtle, but the sweetness and underplaying from the performers wins out.

Hell, even the reunion between Michael and Book is relatively restrained, if not necessarily overwhelming. In truth, since Book hasn’t been away from the show for any period of time, the sense of distance between them doesn’t fully land. But the sense of simultaneous familiarity and alienation between them does. While a situation involving couriers that just so happens to require Book’s expertise comes off a tad contrived, and the quips about past jobs and plans are a touch forced, I appreciate Discovery taking some more time to unpack their relationship after the schisms of season 4.

Who knows if their exchange about how there are some things you cannot move past will stick. The show has generally seemed intent to jam the couple together from the first time they met. But either way, the restraint in this early hour is admirable.

The same can't be said for newcomer Captain Rayner. If you’ve watched Star Trek for any length of time, Rayner is a familiar archetype. Rayner preaches risk-taking while Burnham wants to take caution. Rayner will do anything for the mission while Burnham will do anything to protect innocent lives. Rayner puts the objective first while Burnham puts her principles first.

There’s something to be said for the clash of ideals between a Starfleet captain who lived through the era of The Burn, versus one weaned on the headier days of the Federation. And Book’s joking pronouncements of what they have in common suggests a “We’re not so different, you and I” reconciliation somewhere down the road. But for now, the philosophical and personality conflicts between them come off as stock and shallow.

Nevertheless, the mission is set -- follow the clues to the Progenitor tech before it falls into the wrong hands. The players are in place, from Burnham and the Discovery crew, to Rayner and his team, to the pair of chummy smugglers racing to find the same prize. And rest assured, humble viewers, terrified at the prospect of serene outings full of boardroom debates and ethical meditations, there’s plenty of explosions and firefights and feats of derring-do to keep you occupied.

But as it embarks on its final season, Discovery stumbles over some of the same hurdles it struggled with from the beginning. Season 4 was a big step in the right direction, with a strong central idea and themes that vindicated the heart of the franchise. That earns this show plenty of leeway to prove it can do the same in its last at-bat. But with “Red Directive”’s hollow action, world-ending stakes, and strained canon ties, the ultimate leg of its five-year mission gets off to a rocky start.

[7.8/10] So hey, hot take on my part, but Cate Blanchett is good at acting!

I’m joking, but I’m genuinely impressed what What If was able to get the actress to come back for a one-off appearance in the animated series. Maybe it’s because she gets to be the lead in this one, and I kind of love that.

The basics of this one is a Hela-focused remix of the original Thor film. What’s interesting is that even in Ragnarok, you get the sense that Hela was done dirty by Odin. So doin ga What If where she gets the chance to better herself and become a hero, much like Thor did, is a sideways way of rectifying that. And the idea that she needs to learn mercy rather than humility to regain her powers gives her a nice growth arc like the God of Thunder got.

The decision to mix her up with the world of Shang-Chi is a bit more a mixed bag. I like her dynamic with Wenwu. There’s something amusing about the enemies-to-lovers vibe between the two of them, especially with Wenwu being enamored with her general warriors’ bent, when it’s that same bent that makes her a bit, shall we say, combative with him. If it was just the two of them having Beatrice/Benedick chemistry together in Wenwu’s lands, I’d be on board.

And the truth is that I don’t mind her adventures with Jiayi in Ta Lo, but they’re just so so so very stock. Some of this is just replaying the standard Kung Fu movie beats, with the neophyte having to learn discipline and some flavor of inner peace before they can master the martial arts badassery. (No less a landmark film than Kung Fu Panda, of all things, riffs on the same tropes.) And there’s also a certain Eat Pray Love vibe (or, more charitably, Kill Bill) to the white (or at least white-coded) character going to a foreign land to learn their spiritual ways that's a bit uncomfortable. All of it feels like old hat.

But you know what? Blanchet elevates a lot of it, and so does the animation. I love Blanchett’s arch sensibilities getting to be brought to the fore in a more heroic, or at least antihero style character. Hela getting to banter and patter with her caustic wit is a treat unto itself, and boosts pretty much every scene Hela is in. Her sly remarks and taunts are particularly fun, and Blanchett brings a real joie de vivre to them.

And I’ll be honest, most of the action scenes in What If tend to leave me zoning out, but this one caught my attention. The beauty of the flowers zooming around Jiayi and Hela’s moves, and other objects dancing on the wind as they harness their abilities, looks stunning with the cel-shaded aesthetic. And the three way fight with Hela and Wenu taking on Odin is the visual peak of the show for me. There’s both a more discernible flow to the fisticuffs than we’ve seen previously, and a true sense of epicness with Hela’s abilities, Wenwu’s rings, and Odin’s staff all going up against one another.

The clear goal to separate Odin from his weapon, and the key to winning the battle being Hela showing mercy, rather than slaying her enemy, gives the fight stakes and meaning beyond the pure combat. And i also like the episode’s acknowledgement that what Odin did wrong by his daughter, taught her to be a weapon, kept her on a chain so that she wouldn’t topple him, and was poised to imprison or discard her when the skills he’d cultivated in her were no longer useful of convenient for him. There’s a lot that went unsaid or underexplored about their relationship in Ragnarok, and I’m glad to see What If processing all of that here. Vindicating Hela to some degree, showing what she could have been and become with the right help, and the freedom she could have attained if her father didn’t stand in her way, makes the project worthwhile beyond its imagery, tropes, and general fun.

All-in-all, this is one of my favorites of the season, with a top notch actor on board to carry the load, and a remix that not only gives us a different protagonist, but casts multiple characters and films in a different, fascinating light.

[7.5/10] So let’s start with the obvious. It’s really weird to have the first part of your duology on heartrending regret and recovery start as the abbreviated back half of an episode that's a whimsical lark. My guess is that it’s an homage to back-up stories in comic books? Who knows! Either way, it’s odd.

All of that said, I like it! I am a sucker for slow-spun stories of two people working through their issues together and becoming closer to one another in the process. I’m glad to see the show exploring Storm’s emotional struggle with losing her powers, rather than just having her disappear and then return fixed when it’s convenient. Seeing how this experience is as much about her acclimation to being a normie, healing of the mind and not just of the body, deepens the character. Frankly, it’s more than we ever got in terms of her overcoming claustrophobia in the original show.

Likewise, despite appearing in multiple episodes (and points along the timeline) of the original show, we never got to know much about Forge as a personality. So I like how this deepens him too, giving him regrets about his role in designing anti-mutant collars, explicating a little bit about his time in the war, doling out tidbits about how his powers work, and motivating him with a quest for redemption. He feels like more of a person here than he ever did in the 1990s, and I’ll take it.

There’s also a lovely, almost lyrical tone to the episode. Something about the quieter, more intimate pace of Forge helping Storm recover, with romance and attachment subtly bubbling under the surface, works well as a change of a pace for the normally explosive X-Men. This is an easy episode to vibe with, cozier and more inviting than the average outing for the show.

It’s also a tragic romance. That angle on it is well done, given how easy it is to see Ororo and Forge slipping into something amiable together, only for it to be shattered by Forge’s revelation. His speech about Storm being a goddess, regardless of her powers, is stirring as all hell, and her angry rejection is no less heartbreaking.

I’m less on board with the appearance of “The Adversary”, who already feels like a retread of Storm’s encounters with the Shadow King. But its design is cool and creepy, and as I’ve said before, I jive well with the dream logic, impressionistic presentation style, so there’s still hope on that front.

Overall, this seems like it would make more sense as its own thing, joined with its second part rather than stapled onto “Motendo”, especially when streaming services mean you don’t have to be as strict about runtimes. But it’s still a good outing on its own merits.

[7.7/10] I loved the X-Men arcade game growing up, so an episode of X-Men ‘97 that pays tribute to it, while advancing the ball for Jubilee and Sunspot both personally and romantically, pushes all the right buttons for me.

I appreciate all the little touches in this one, from the tributes to the intro, aesthetic, and sounds of the arcade beat-em-up; to the homages to The Matrix built into this “trapped in a digital space” conceit; to the cheeky mention of Dazzler. (Fun fact: that famous X-Men arcade game was not actually based on X-Men: The Animated Series, but rather a peculiar one-off special called Pryde of the X-Men which featured Dazzler as a main character.) In many ways, the target audience for this show is Millennials who are nostalgic for their 1990s childhoods and adolescence, and this episode feeds that need expertly.

But it also deconstructs that idea, which is, if anything, even more laudable. The tone is cheeky, but the idea of a newly adult Jubilee yearning for the days when she was a kid without expectations or responsibilities who could while away the day at the mal resonates with a lot of the crusty grown-ups like me who grew up with the original show. The lesson and theme, that nostalgia is fun, but it’s important to keep growing and not retreat to the past, is a worthwhile one, especially coming from a show whose very existence depends on nostalgia.

Adding that disclaimer is commendable. The fact that it comes from an older Jubilee, voiced by Alyson Court, who played the role in the 1990s show, gives it some added resonance, for Jubilee and for the audience. When the person who gave up the role is the voice telling you it’s okay, even necessary, to move on, it can't help but hit harder.

The Sunspot arc is a little weaker. The connection between him not wanting tot ake the risk of people finding out what he really is, especially his mother, and him taking some risks in the video game world, is pretty thin. But it’s still something, and the fact that after going through the wringer together, he and Jubilee can admit their feelings adds some oomph to his part of the story as well.

The only thing I’m mixed on here is Mojo. In truth, he was one of the most annoying characters from the show’s original run, so I wasn’t exactly enamored to see him back. But this new incarnation of him is less grating than the old one. Plus, despite the episode’s themes, there is a certain novelty to seeing him and Spiral back in action, which helps buoy the character.

Overall, this was a hell of an enjoyable lark for fans of the X-Men arcade game, which goes beyond cheap nostalgia and uses its novel premise to advance the characters and some interesting ideas at the same time.

[7.8/10[ I have to admit, I spent much of the first part of this one going “Who the hell is Kahhori?” I wracked my brain trying to figure out what the connection to the MCU was, until I looked it up and was delighted to discover that she’s a wholly original character!

I like What If and its reimaginative premise, but after a season and a half, you can detect certain formulas in its remixes. With that, something totally fresh and only lightly related to the rest of the known MCU is a welcome departure.

And I particularly appreciate the original story What If chose to tell here. Telling a story that is distinctively of and about the indigenous Mohawk tribes gives this tale a unique flavor that elevates it. There is a certain Tarantino-style “alternate history where the oppressed get to be the victors over their oppressors” vibe here, but in a more spiritual and culturally authentic sort of way that comes through.

Granted, maybe it’s just the stopping bullets motif, but Kahhori has a certain amount of Neo from The Matrix in her. That's a pretty familiar spin on the hero’s journey to begin with, but the whole sense of finding yourself in another plane of existence, with cool powers, that you can intuitively use better than experienced wielders, and come back to the world you know to make your stand, is familiar. But it’s good stuff, and even if the beats of Kahhori excelling instinctively come off a touch pat, the visuals are striking, and the ideas are strong.

I appreciate the themes here too, of that aspirational stand against colonialism, of the freighted idea that a place you’ve been forced to can be a paradise or a prison, of the resolve to help your people even when it requires great boldness and great risk. Those bigger ideas infuse this outing with a sense of epicness and a grander meaning. That makes it rousing when Kahhori uses her abilities to force the portal down to her rather than reaching toward it, and when her Sky World brethren break through to her rescue in blinding streaks of light, and when Conquistador and Monarch alike are brought to a level playing field by indigenous peoples able to match their firepower.

Some of this is simple, but the spirit of it bears out and wins you over. Particularly as What If has more wiggle room than mainline MCU projects to get experimental and depart from the standard routines without disrupting canon, I’d love to see it take more big and original swings like this, particularly given how well this one connected.

[7.5/10] At first I thought this was basically going to be a remix of Captain America: Winter Soldier, and it kind of is! The notion of redoing that film, except with Peggy as Cap, Steve as the Winter Soldier, and Bucky as...Secretary Pierce for some reason, is cool.

For one thing, it gives us more of the Peggy/Natasha friendship a la the Steve/Natasha friendship, and the two women work as well as a pair, if not better. For another, it lets us put the shoe on the other foot in terms of Peggy missing Steve, something we got to see intermittently in the Agent Carter spin-off. And it also puts Peggy in Cap’s role vis-a-vis a lost comrade, defying official reprimands and orders to save a friend. All of it adds up, and makes me look forward to the probably third part of this parallel trilogy when we get her squaring off with Iron Man.

And if that's all this episode had done, it would have been plenty. But I love that the writers chose to do something original and mash up Captain Carters misadventures with a spin on the events of the Black Widow movie as well.

For one thing, the Potemkin Village meant to represent the idealized 1950s America as a training ground for Red Room spies makes for a brilliant setting. It not only evokes cold war iconography, but the general Stepford vibe of the place is suitably creepy, and the robots are good cannon fodder for our heroes.

The ensuing fights are good. There is juice from a knock-down drag out brawl between Natasha and Melina, albeit one that only really has import if you’ve seen Black Widow. And Captain Carter fighting a re-brainwashed Hydra Stomper is a nice alt-universe reflection of Steve fighting Bucky in Winter Soldier. The fact that she, like this universe’s Bucky is able to get through to Steve, is a nice beat. And the fact that he pulls an Iron Giant to take down the Red Room makes for a cool climax.

Overall, I appreciate how original What If goes with this one once it gets past the explicit Winter Soldier homages, and the reimagined Peggy/Steve relationship remains a highlight.

(On a personal note, after having watched the excellent Harley Quinn show, it’s hard to hear Lake Bell’s voice coming out of Black Widow and not think of her take on Poison Ivy!)

[7.6/10 on a Selman era Simpsons scale] So for starters, I love Genndy Tartakovsky’s Primal. I’m in the camp that thinks it’s one of the best shows on television right now. So the mere fact that The Simpsons was doing an extended homage to it, meaning one of my original favorite shows was paying tribute to one of my current favorites, was a real treat that made it easier for me to get on board with the rest of what this episode wanted to accomplish.

But I also like that this was not a mere “invoke some other T.V. show” outing, but rather one with a point. The use of the flashbacks to illustrate the ways in which a great deal has changed since our caveman ancestors, and how much hasn’t, is a smart conceit for this one. In truth, there’s not a ton of laugh out loud jokes here. But the show makes up for it in clever observations and juxtapositions between modern life and prehistoric life.

So while I didn’t guffaw, I did smile at Homer hunting for concert tickets being matched with his savannah ancestor hunting deer. A prehistoric Marge squaring off against a blue-haired giant wolf while present day Marge and Luan Van Houten play the dozens at a PTA meeting is clever. And the final race to a Latino rap group’s backstage VIP area in line with a grand escape by a cavewoman to protect her young has fun in the life-or-death stakes of the past with the sillier, but emotionally life-or-death stakes of the present.

And that's the central observation of “Clan of the Cave Mom”. How we fight and survive has changed, but what we fight for hasn’t necessarily. The skirmishes are social, rather than physical, but the way the same fight or flight and protective parental instincts take over remains a part of who we are. The episode spells it out a little too much for my tastes, but that's probably a necessary concession.

I also appreciate the cleverness of the ending. The third act gets a little wild, arguably even Scully-esque, with its chase through the concert. But the observation that through the rough and tumble caper, Marge has been reduced to her primal self on both the inside and outside, is a canny way to convey where the noble urge to protect her son from bullying and exclusion has led her when it’s gone unchecked. Marge making up with Luann, in line with Prehistoric Marge finding common ground with her beastly pursuer after her husband dies, is also a clever twist on the premise of Primal that shows the writers got the show beyond the visuals.

I always appreciate Simpsons episodes that depart from the norm in some way. I appreciate even more when they use that break in the format to try to say something, whether about the characters or life or the world we live in. “Clan of the Cave Mom” does both, with a nice story about Marge’s care for her kids and the desire to protect them that runs historically deep. The fact that the episode borrows from one of the current era’s greatest and most piercing shows is the icing on the cake.

[7.4/10] They could pretty much call this one “What if we did Ragnarok with Tony Stark?” But I’m not complaining. The fun of What If? is its remixing and reimagining spirit, so the mash-up works for me. I’m a sucker for Jeff Goldblum’s shtick so it’s especially fun to see him and Iron Man bantering with one another, mixing their comic energies.

But as with prior episodes, the show finds meaningful parallels and breakthroughs via different characters getting to interact with one another. The exploration is mostly skin deep given the time constraints (and apparent greater creative interest in car crashes). But Tony bonding with Valkyrie over both wrestling with a “demon in a bottle” and getting through to Gamora over both having daddy issues but choosing who to be despite that are nice, if abbreviated beats for the characters. (Mildly odd that Tony’s bond with both of his new cosmic pals stems from the events of Iron Man 2, plus an homage to his Milan race escapades.)

The Mad Max/Twisted Metal/Mario Kart style fun in the climax is good too. As I said in my write-up of the Eighties Avengers episode, this is the kind of thing you could do in live action, but which is easier to do in animation, so I like seeing What If take advantage of that. The idea of a race to decide who rules Sakaar is a little silly, but the show acknowledges that. And Tony gets some good beats himself here, from a throwback to the first Iron Man film with him making a new suit from scratch, to his “leave a place better than you found it” campground principle. And hey, more Korg is a plus in my book too!

Overall, this is, like most of the episodes to date, more of a lark than something profound or substantive, but it’s an enjoyable lark.

[6.8/10] I can appreciate what What If is going for here. Remaking Die Hard in Avengers tower through an MCU lens is a fun concept. Justin Hammer as Hans Gruber, and Happy Hogan as John McClane is suitable casting, and there’s a lot of fun to be had with cheeky references to everything from A Christmas Story to Jingle All the Way.

Somehow, though, the whole is less than the sum of its parts. The humor itself is amiable but enough, but there’s no real knee-slappers here. And at some point, the episode becomes a game of “spot the reference” more so than something that works on its own terms.

That said, it’s nice to have Sam Rockwell back as Justin Hammer for the first time in nearly a decade. Darcy is kind of annoying in this, but there’s something to Happy working feverishly (and bumblingly) to prove that he’s more than just a security guard to Maria Hill. And while I don’t know much about Purple Hulk, there is a certain charm to doing a Yuletide MCU story that can't be denied (other than Iron Man 3, of course).

All-in-all, this is more of a pleasant enough holiday lark than a true winner for What If or the MCU, but graded on the curve of an Xmas special, it’s still not bad.

[7.6/10] I love a good horror interlude. So watching our heroes have to fend off literal demons in a hellscape, have deformed monsters crawl out of televisions and collapse, or gargantuan phantoms belching strange liquid through the elevator doors scratches a certain itch for me. The way that Clone Jean’s breakdown results in a dose of pure terror is tops.

But I also like the prospect of our heroes being haunted by their worst fears. Jubilee and Sunspot are confronted by the mangled faces of disapproving parents. Gambit sees a body horror-infused image of Rogue and Magneto together. An already shaken Cyclops hears the recriminations of a deformed Professor X, while Bishop hears the lament of abandonment from his sister, Shard. Most interestingly, Morph sees a shower-dripped Logan who taunts him with the prospect that he knows, and that everyone knows.

(I doubt X-Men ‘97 will actually follow up on it, but it’s interesting that the show is willing to acknowledge the tension between Morph and Wolverine that was present in the 1990s series.)

The tack is always interesting, because by burrowing into what bothers each of your characters, you reveal them , if only a little bit. Pushing past the masks we wear (so to speak) and exposing what bothers the X-Men deep down shines a light on their true selves in a way that makes them more interesting.

Granted, this is a bonkers episode in which to delve into that sort of thing, but I kind of appreciate that? The simple premise of this one is out there. The reveal that the Jean who gave birth to Nate Summers is, in fact, a crazy clone manufactured by Mister Sinister, and nobody knows when she was switched with the real thing, is a wild reveal. The real Jean showing up on the doorstep of the X-Mansion and feeling overwhelmed by her powers is no less intense.

But I don’t know, the joy of science fiction is being able to delve into the off-the-wall and experimental in a way that loops back around to an essential humanity. None of us have woken up one day and discovered that we were clones. But Cone Jean’s identity crisis, the sense of the life she thought she was living being turned upside down, is one that resonates for people who’ve faced other, less fanciful, but no less dramatic reveals in their lives. Likewise, the real Jean’s recovery is outsized, but fits with people who’ve been through traumas finding their way back to the people they love and readjusting. Taking that to artistic extremes is a feature, not a bug.

Granted, the show loses some realism there. I don’t mean in terms of the plausibility of the science, but more that Clone Jena goes from “regular ally to her friends’ to “Goblin Queen in a bondage outfit ready to murder them” in thirty seconds flat. It loses some of the truth in the moment, but we can chalk it up to Mister Sinister’s preestablished ability to bring out a malevolent side of his subjects’ personality, augmented by the legitimate emotional distress Clone Jean goes through from the devastating reveal and sense of alienation from her friends.

To the point, it’s a small part of the episode, but I appreciate that when all of the exposition about Sinister’s scheme comes to light, it’s Morph who’s most affected by it as a bystander. His comments about the personal knowledge of the pain Sinister inflicts adds depth to the crisis, and his acknowledgment that Clone Jena is a victim too adds a sympathetic dimension to these events.

That comes in handy when Real Jean breaks through to Clone Jean to convince her to turn away from Sinister and regain herself. I’ll confess, I’m a sucker for those sorts of impressionistic, imaginative sequences that turn the most challenging emotions and psychological difficulties of the human experience into something more abstract and visceral, The 1990s show would do this sort of thing too, and while it was hit or miss there, it’s a big hit here. From the excesses of Clone Jean’s breakdown, to the light versus dark stand-off of the mind between the two Jeans, to the natal spin of the resolution, the symbolism and imagery really lets the animators show off.

There is something deep and beautiful about the idea that whatever else is going on in Clone Jean’s world, she’s brought back to the side of the angels by the idea of caring for her son. There’s a strong root of humanity there too, and I love the idea that whatever else in her world might be constructed, that remains real, and enough to bring her back to earth. The turn there is more important than fending off Sinister himself.

The whole “techno virus that can only be solved in the future” feels like a last-minute throw-in, but I appreciate the impact it has on Cyclops and Clone Jean. Cyclops' own hang-ups on his abandonment from his own father make him unable to participate in sending him away, even if it’s for Nate’s own good, and there’s power in that. Likewise, Clone Jean explaining to an infant who can't understand that they’re not sending him away because he’s flawed, but because they think he’s perfect is riddled with pathos.

Granted, the X-Men have gone back and forth from the future half a dozen times, so it’s not clear to me why Bishop can't just pop back with Baby Nate five seconds later in the present. Plus, if I remember the original show correctly, Jean knows who Nate becomes in the future, so that might be something worth mentioning to Scott at some point given the difficulty he’s having with all of this. But if you can set that aside and just grant the premise, the emotional power of those scenes is immense.

Everything gets wrapped up a little too neatly. Clone Jean just picking the name Madelyne Pryor out of a hat and being cool with rolling out on her own happens very suddenly. Still, I like the idea that she was already kind of ready to roll, and wants a life that's her own from here on out. She and Real Jean acknowledging the strangeness and uncertainty of their situation is a nice beat, and the tease of Forge helping Storm regain her powers is intriguing.

Overall, this is one of the wilder episodes of either X-Men show, which is saying something, but one that uses that wildness for some cool imagery, bracing horror, and poignant character moments.

[7.5/10] A fun one! The emotional arc here is strong. You understand why Bill feels unappreciated at work, and so why he reaches for a singing group that gives him purpose and makes him feel special, even if it means sacrificing the rest of his life. There’s an inherent absurdity to an army barber giving it all to a men’s show choir, and the show harvests that for both comedy and drama.

It’s well done! Hank is a good friend here, shutting Dale up and trying to be supportive of Bill even though he plainly doesn’t get the Harmonaholics. The gags of he and the alley cats’ aghast reaction to Bill’s show, and the three ring circus that is the Harmonoholics’ strict leader all land. Plus Hank has some subtly brutal lines that end up being knee-slappers. (Him remarking that he wishes Bill picked something “less god awful” but that he’s glad it’s keeping Bill “out of the morgue” is a bomb, and him telling the Harmonaholics fan that he’s only met the fan once but his life has been a waste is just ice cold in that perfect, matter-of-fact Hank Hill way.)

The writers do a nice job of adding stakes to the proceedings, with Bill nearly sacrificing his job for this group before seeing the light. The setup and payoff of Dale champing at the bit to make fun of Bill, only to be let loose when it will help jar Bill from this spiral is outstanding. (Dale’s line that the chorus is the “feces that results when shame eats stupidity” lives rent free in my head.) And BIll getting a compliment from the general he’s booked to cut hair for is the cherry on top.

Peggy and Bobby squaring off over Pong is pretty slight as B-stories go, but it’s got a few chuckles to go ‘round.

Overall, an entertaining lark of an episode with a good Bill story and some quality laughs.

[7.5/10] If I’m asking for anything from the animated wing of the MCU, it’s to do things that you can't do in live action. Now, given the state of special effects these days, that list is ever dwindling. But that's why this episode’s 1980s period piece is so canny. Sure, you could pull off the same thing in live action (and Captain Marvel sort of does it). But it’s a lot easier to include younger versions of Michael Douglas and Kurt Russell and Laurence Fishbourne, and a convincing older version of Hayley Atwell in digital ink and paint than it is to do in flesh and blood.

So I like the concept of this one. There’s a novelty to seeing Hank Pym’s Ant-Man lead a thirty-years-earlier version of The Avengers, against no less a foe than a Celestial-powered Peter Quill.

There’s only one problem -- I don’t care about most of the people in the flashback Avengers. Hank Pym is the biggest one, and it’s a treat to get to see him at his height rather than leading the next generation. Likewise, it’s neat to get to see older versions of Peggy Carter and Howard Stark still in the game for more than just a quick scene.

But the rest of the 1980s Avengers are kind of a yawn or a contrivance. Thor being present isn’t crazy, but it feels a little cheap. Bill Foster and Wendy Lawson participating makes sense, but to be candid, I had to look up those characters since I barely remembered them from their films. And hey, some of that's on me. Both characters had major roles, and a big part of the novelty of What If? is being able to bring disparate parts of the MCU together in unique ways, but they were both pretty forgettable characters, which doesn’t help. Getting to see T’Chaka in action is cool in principle, but we didn’t get much of him in the movies, and he doesn’t get much characterization here, so he’s basically just an ersatz version of T’Challa which doesn’t add much to the proceedings.

Somewhere in the middle is Winter Soldier, who seems like an odd fit for this crew, but whose presence comes with a purpose and one of the episode’s best emotional throughlines. It’s a small part of the episode overall, but Howard Stark talking him down from taking out Peter, invoking Steve Rogers and reawakening the part of Winter Solider that is still Bucky Barnes is a cool moment. As with much of these “What If” stories, it transposes much of the ideas of Captain America: Winter Soldier to a different setting, and makes hay from the difference of it being Howard and Peggy who run into Bucky, rather than Steve and Natasha.

Likewise, I appreciate the parallels and connections between Hank and Hope on the one hand and Peter on the other. The idea that both of these families are dealing with the loss of a mother at the same time, and bond over that makes sense in a way I’d never considered before. Again, that's one of the cool things about these remixes -- finding connections between characters and situations that haven't been explored in the mainline continuity. Hope and Peter forging a fast friendship (replete with a mischievous hope helping Peter escape), and Hank managing to earn Peter’s trust by opening up about his own struggles with loss is all strong interpersonal material that gives this installment something more than novelty and flash.

The flash is good though! Sure, it’s a little easy to have our heroes facing a bunch of stone Kurt Russell duplicates, but it’s still neat seeing Goliath smash them to bits or Peggy Carter fire machine guns at them. And while Peter confronting his dad with Hank is mostly a reskin of the climax of Guardians 2, there’s still resonance in the idea of the young boy self-actualizing and casting off his father’s bad influence.

The funny thing is, despite not caring much about the Flashback Avengers when walking into the episode, I would absolutely watch a series focused on them. We get a good dynamic in small snippets, and there’d be time to develop their specific relationships and character dynamics. I’ve often wondered how many of these What If stories are backdoor pilots, and if anything, this one works better as a starter kit for more adventures than a perfect short story in and of itself.

Overall though, I appreciate this outing for its emotional undercurrent, and also for telling the type of story that you could only tell in this medium, a time-displaced Avengers reimagining that mixes and matches parts of the mainline canon, while giving them new meaning in its flashback context.

[7.5/10] Let’s start with the good. Ventress is back! Since the 2-D Clone Wars show, she ahs been one of the coolest parts of the animated corner of the Star Wars universe, and so it’s nice to see her get a chance to step into this modern era of it.

She also makes a ton of sense as an erstwhile mentor for Omega and someone with a strange concordance with the Bad Batch. She knows better than anyone what it’s like to be manipulated by forces within the Empire, to be kept as someone’s side project, to have abilities you’re not quite sure what to do with. She also knows how being Force Sensitive marks you, makes you an object of interest, a tool to be used, by greater forces. The way she wants to both help Omega, and also protect her and keep ehr away from all of this, speaks to the difficult circumstances Ventress has been through and come out the other side. (And there’s some nice parallels to the main ideas of Ahsoka in that.)

And in her interactions with Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker, she carries on the theme from the 3D Clone Wars show -- that the war they all devoted themselves to was a tragedy, one where they were all used and spit out. The sense of knowing what that's like, of coming out uncertain of your loyalties and broadened in your perspective or right and wrong, good and evil, makes her of a piece with what Clone Force 99 experienced during and after the war, Crosshair especially.

Like Shand, she is a bit of a wildcard, someone who doesn’t fit neatly in the alignment chart. But she’s also someone who’s seen this all before, and is ready to impart her wisdom to the Bad Batch, and especially to their young ward. I like that idea a lot, especially when it comes to the costs of being force sensitive, not just the ability to lift rocks and calm angry beasts.

Admittedly, the calming angry beasts part is cool. The episode is a mixed bag visually. It is cool to see Ventress duck and doge through our heroes like the badass that she is, and swing around a lightsaber once more. (And, not for nothing, it’s cool to see her with hair not unlike Merrin’s in Fallen Order as a fellow sister.) But the herky jerky style gives the fight movements a certain janky, stop-motion vibe that detracts from the encounter.

That said, her and Omega’s rumble with the kraken is a winner. The design of the kraken is striking, with a multicolored carapace, alien beak, and swarming tentacles. And the fact that Ventress bests it not through brute strength or deft dodging, but rather through forging a Force-friendly connection with the creature, illustrates both her mastery of the Force, but also her lesson to Omega at the same time.

So as a vaunted return for Ventress and an event of “testing” Omega’s ability, “The Harbinger” succeeds. True to the title, she also works as someone whose warnings of what’s coming setup grave things to come in a way that intrigues and terrifies, with poor Omega in the sights of the jackals.

But there’s a few problems. The smallest of them is that this seems to contradict the Dark Disciple novels, in another case of the television wing of Star Wars overwriting its literary wing. Can you come up with some retcon or explanation for the discrepancy? Sure. Ventress even has a cheeky line about it. But yet again, after pretending that everything’s canon, the powers that be once again prove that there is an unspoken hierarchy. So enjoy those written tales for their own independent worth, but don’t expect them to be the tail wagging the dog of Lucasfilm’s film and T.V. offerings.

The medium problem is that most Star Wars fan could assuredly guess what “M-count” meant by this point, so having Ventress come down to confirm it doesn’t mean very much. Yes, there’s no reason for the Bad Batch to know that, but bringing in characters to solve mysteries the audience already knows the answer to, without any sense of foreboding or tragic irony, makes the plot mechanics feel perfunctory.

Last but not least, not everyone needs to be Force Sensitive! It happened in the Sequel Trilogy (sort of). It happened in Ashoka. Hell, it pretty much happened with Leia. Why can't some major characters just stay (relative) normies and revel in their achievements that way. That ship has already pretty well sailed with Omega at this point, but I don’t know, I wish we could get more characters in Star Wars who are special and cool without them secretly being revealed to be force-sensitive. It runs into the “All of Peter Parker’s friends end up with spider powers” problems that makes the universe feel smaller and cheaper.

Still, I like where this lands, with the idea that in the age of the Empire, force-sensitivity is less a blessing than a curse. The training scenes with Ventress and Omega are a little too generic, which is part of my problem. But I appreciate the reveal that they’re also part of a ruse, something to tell Omega that she isn’t a Jedi, and try to convince her, and the much more skeptical Bad Batch, to spare her what an answer in the other direction would mean. “Someone who is force-sensitive, but doesn’t realize, and goes untrained to avoid becoming a target” is a much more interesting story than the umpteenth “Rough-around-the-edges young learner is schooled in the ways of the Force” story.

All that aside, Omega still represents a certain light in this world. She’s willing to give Ventress a second chance, much as she was for Crosshair. She sees the good in Ventress despite her past, while Ventress tries to spare Omega from the bad that could lie in her future. It’s an interesting game of contrast and compare, and makes “The Harbinger” a good outing for The Bad Batch, even as I still lament some of its problems.

[9.5/10] My goodness. The first episode of *X-Men ‘97” charts a noble if rocky path. The second episode then blew it out of the water. I don’t know what to say.

Magneto was long one of the original X-Men show’s most interesting characters. While the writing was inconsistent, the idea that he was torn between his perspective on humanity and his respect and admiration for Professor Xavier fueled an inner conflict between the political and the personal that made him the X-Men’s signature villain.

“Mutant Liberation Begins” honors that view of the character with a depiction that is startlingly complex, as Magneto tries to set aside his own perspective and vindicate the legacy of the departed friend who entrusted him with his school and his mission.

My god, it pays dividends. There is a great arc here. Scott and the rest of the X-Men are understandably wary of someone they’ve fought against so many times. (Though you’d think that him stepping in to help save Xavier’s life in the prior show’s series finale would count for something.) The struggle to accept an erstwhile villain and extremist as a leader; Scott’s fear that this means Professor X did not think him ready or worthy to lead the team; the sense of doubt over whether our heroes can even trust this guy all add dimension to the shocking twist from the end of the last episode.

Magneto’s goal to earn that trust is what puts this one over the top though. He still comes with a certain arrogance, a certain self-certainty, a certain judgment toward an accommodationist philosophy he doesn’t fully believe in. But this is also someone who defends the Morlocks(!) and finds them a new home, who submits himself to the judgment of the U.N. to prove his willingness to meet humanity on even terms, and who, tempted to unleash his fury when his act of faith is rewarded with lethal threats, chooses to relent, in the name of the friend whose presence still lurks in the back of his mind.

(One minor gripe -- it’s weird to hear the X-Men refer to Magneto as “Erik”, even if that's his more common name from the comics, since he was always known as Magnus in the 1990s cartoon.)

That is powerful as all hell. The biggest way that X-Men ‘97 pays tribute to its predecessor is in its full-throated embrace of the themes and ideas behind the science-fiction story of mutants and humans in conflict. Magneto’s trial is rife with such a mature take on the nuances and challenges of prejudice and peaceful coexistence.

I am going to have to watch the exchanges there five more times at least to digest it all, but at a minimum, I appreciate how the show connects the antisemitism of the Holocaust to prejudices that continue to be faced today to other forms of bigotry across the spectrum to xenophobic fears of replacement to the thin differences between oppression and self defense to the grace and respect that must be shown for anything to ever get better. I can't sum it up in a few humble paragraphs with my own feeble words, but suffice it to say, most grown-up, politically-minded shows don’t get this deep and this piercing in their realizations of how to grapple with bigotry and mutual mistrust among in-groups and out-groups, and it’s startling to see it in my grown-up cartoon.

Hell, sometimes it’s scary. Look, the Friends of Humanity are outsized to be sure. X-Cutioner is a souped up masked man brandishing sentinel tech and a power-deploying gun. But the anti-U.N., anti-evolution, anti-outsider perspective he brings feels all too real. The moment in the episode where a bunch of lunatics storm a hall of government is extra jarring after the events of January 6th. His gripes about how “regular people” have it harder than mutants, only they have the “dignity” not to complain like the “whiners” is eerily similar to real life rhetoric from bigots. And the broader point, that by even giving an outsider like Magneto a fair trial, the U.N. judges are now seen as traitors and fair game for the vicious xenophobes charging at the gates, highlights the perniciousness of their perspective, and the surmountable but immense challenges in showing enough grace and forbearance to pave the way for peace and reconciliation.

It stems from the personal. You can feel the fury when Magneto crushes X-Cutioner’s weapon and binds him to the U.N. seal, lifting him and the U.N. functionaries into the atmosphere far above the earth, ready to wreak vengeance upon them all. Instead, he remembers what that voice inside his head would say, the presence of a man who believed in gestures of compassion and understanding in even the worst of times -- it’s why Magneto’s standing here rather than Xavier. So he relents. He speaks of a world where human and mutant alike respect the other’s right to exist, as a starting point. And he proves himself, not just as a trustworthy leader of the X-Men, but as a worthy inheritor of his best friend’s mantle, however more tenuously it sits upon his shoulders than it did Xavier’s.

Oh yeah, and Jean has her baby.

It’s a big moment! This episode is rife with big moments. I can't do them all justice. Hell, even the U.N. headquarters fight with the FOH is a standout in terms of strong animation and inventive clashes.

But the broader struggles among societies and leaders are given more humbling form when a mutant woman can't find a doctor to treat her while she’s in labor, not because of who she is, but what she is. Amid these broader clashes of civilizations is the reality that individuals are denied the basics of their humanity, and have to rely on one another to survive in a world that hates them simply for being born. It is wholesome and heartening to have Wolverine drive like a maniac to get his lost love to a hospital, and for Rogue to absorb a bigoted doctor’s knowledge to deliver the baby.

But it’s also a sad indictment of the state of acceptances of those who are different that it has to come to that. And it’s sadder still that real life people would deny the same kind of care to those who need it in the real world.

Oh yeah, and Storm loses her powers.

Oh man, am I fascinated to see where this goes. The moment where she dives in front of X-Cutioner’s blast to save Magento is an act of great sacrifice from Storm, and in a way, the event that consecrates Magneto. But it also robs her of the life she knew. The way the animators show her struggling to move, the way she can no longer sense the breeze or the moisture in the air, the way thunder and lightning are suddenly enemies rather than allies, sells the magnitude of what’s been taken from Storm, and how it radically changes her life.

The tie to all of this is the incredible conversation between Jean and Storm about Jean’s anxieties over her child. There is truth in Jean hoping her child is human, if only wanting to protect him and spare him the hardships they’ve all faced, while feeling terrible about that. And there is hope when Storm reassures her that those feelings are natural, and that Storm’s shared them, only to appreciate how being a mutant has brought her to this family and a “sister” like Jean. And there is bitter poetry in anxious Jean holding her child and seeing hope for the future, while a depowered Storm ends the episode robbed of her powers and believing this life no longer fits who she is.

In truth, Jean and Storm never got much time to bond in the original series, which makes some of the “sister” talk ring a bit false. But this episode does such a good job making their relationship feel lived in and natural that it’s easy to give them a pass. There is incredible pathos in Storm’s loss, incredible joy in Jean’s bringing a new life into the world, and incredible heart in how the two women comfort one another.

What can I say? Other than that the original X-Men was rarely, if ever, this good. Not every part of “Mutant Liberation Begins” works. I assume it’s a fake out, but the Magneto/Rogue stuff is weird. A friend described the show’s art style as Archer-esque, and now I can't unsee it. And some of the voices still seem off. (Morph’s less convincing a substitute when he’s actually talking versus just snickering and teasing.)

But so much of it does. The trial and transcendent triumph of Magneto stepping into his best friend’s shoes as a leader and a peacemaker, the breath-holding desperation of Jean ready to give birth, the unexpected tragedy of Storm losing her powers, the sad yet hopeful resonance with real life events, all elevate X-Men ‘97 into rarified air. Time will tell whether the show will be able to maintain this level of quality as it carries on a legacy of its own, but if this episode is the only high water mark we get, then dayenu, it would be enough.

[8.0/10] Look, I’m in the tank for Ming-Na Wen as a performer for her work in everything from Mulan to Agents of Shield, so I’m probably not the most objective person to review this episode. That said, I do think it’s a stand out for the Bad Batch, especially for an outing that is not a “special event” like a season premiere/finale or a departure from the usual format.

Fennec Shand is a hell of a player to link Hunter and Wrecker with. She’s a genuine neutral here, willing to work for whomever gives her the biggest payday, and literally mercenary about it. There’s a Manichean, good guys vs. bad guys dichotomy to Star Wars most of the time, so it’s nice to include someone like Shand who doesn’t really fit into either camp. She has her own interests, chiefly money, and she’s willing to side with whoever can provide the most of it. That makes her a genuine wildcard, and the compare and contrast game the show plays between pragmatic, self-centered Shand and our altruistic clone duo is extra interesting for it.

That said, I appreciate that amid all of this, the show picks up the hint that she harbors a soft spot for “the kid” just like Hunter and Wrecker do. The trio verbally spar over their respective prowess and interaction with Omega, as you do. And Shand’s cutting barb toward the clone twosome -- that they let Omega get away as much as she did -- rubs salt in a wound both of them are still nursing. The character work over where the former clone troopers stand in relation to the lucre-minded bounty hunter is subtle but strong.

Their misadventures in hunting down a target who upset the Haxion Brood (hello Fallen Order fans!) is also sound and exciting on its own terms. On a pure craft level, the show invoking some Apocalypse Now/Deliverance vibes for the trio’s trip down the river to collar their quarry is music to my ears. So many of these standalone quest episodes blend together, so distinguishing them through atmosphere and aesthetic is crucial. The creepiness of floating down a boobytrapped waterway, the grimy gold hue everything comes with, and a scurrying, anthropomorphized mantis target all give this one a visual distinctiveness and unnerving vibe that helps to make “Bad Territory” memorable.

The strong practical dynamic between Shand and Hunter/Wrecker helps too. She has something they need -- info on the bounty hunter who knows about the Empire hiring mercenaries to wrangle “m-count” bounties. So while it’s not exactly fun, the way she basically orders our heroes to do her dirty work if they want to get what they’re after puts Hunter and Wrecker on their back foot in a way we don’t typically see. Someone else having leverage over them like that, where they can't really resist lest they lose their best lead, makes this mission different from their usual quests, in a good way.

I also appreciated the B-story with Omega and Crosshair. We’ve confirmed (maybe?) that Crosshair’s hand issue is a mental one, more than a physical one. The two of them meditating, using techniques she learned on Kashyyyk no less, is a nice beat. Crosshair pushing himself outside of his comfort zone speaks well of his growth, and his recognition that Omega has been through a lot herself and grown from it is nice too.

Overall, another strong episode, and the one with my favorite action sequences of the season so far.

[7.5/10] The big question for any legacy sequel/revival is simple -- does it feel enough like the original? And the answer for X-Men ‘97” is...sort of!

The animation is weird, man. Sometimes, it’s tremendous. The sequence where our heroes plummet from the sky amid a Sentinel attack, replete with last minute rescues and an eye-blast landing from Cyclops, is kinetic and thrilling as all hell. The throwdown with Master Mold and his coterie of malevolent automatons gets the blood pumping with all sorts of cool X-Men powers on display. And there are plenty of “This makes no sense, but it’s made of awesome, so it gets a pass” moments like Beast controlling one of the bots from the inside. In terms of raw octane, the animators get it done.

But hoo boy, the character animation is all over the place. Sometimes the X-Men have an expressiveness that outstrips the original show, and sometimes they feel like bizarre stiff corpses who are being electrified at random intervals. Jubilee and Sunspot’s dance is particularly jarring with the strangeness of their movements. Quiet scenes often veer into the uncanny with a strange combination of the under-animated and over-animated parts of the show that can either wow you or repel you from moment to moment.

The truth is that the powers that be were always going to have to update the animation, if only to go to a widescreen format. And despite sporting some iconic designs (which have been suitably updated), the original X-Men animated series wasn’t necessarily the peak of animation either. But this is certainly different, and not always in a good way.

The same goes for the voices and the pacing. Many of the original voice actors have passed on. The ones who remain have obviously aged in the (gulp) three decades since X-Men originally ran. Their replacements vary in quality. Ray Chase does a remarkable job replicating the original Cyclops. Jennifer Hale is an outstanding voice actress, but doesn’t necessarily sound much like her predecessor. Cal Dodd, Lenore Zann, and George Buza are all a bit off as Wolverine, Rogue, and Beast respectively, which makes sense given changes in voices and performance styles in the last thirty years. But Alison Sealy-Smith’s Storm hasn’t missed a beat.

Meanwhile JP Karliak’s Morph and A.J. LoCascio’s Gambit are able replacements for the originals, despite other new voices not quite hitting the mark. And despite playing a character who's new to the series, the actor who plays Sunspot is flat and unconvincing to the point that you wonder how the performance made it in a professional production. But the voice acting in the original show wasn’t always sterling, so hopefully things improve from here.

Likewise, “To Me, My X-Men” occasionally feels like a bunch of scenes slapped together rather than a cohesive story that builds and ties everything together. Again, that was sometimes an issue with the original show, so I can't fault its 97 equivalent too much for that. But the pacing is different, both in individual scenes and the episode as a whole. It’s hard to pin down, but there’s a certain anime vibe to the presentation, a different style and approach, that stands out relative to the 90s predecessor.

And yet, despite my gripes about the craft and the presentation, I appreciate the threads that “To Me, My X-Men” picks up. One of the long-running threads of the prior series was Scott Summers wrestling with what it means to be the X-Men, and even how it would feel to do the job in Xavier’s absence. Picking that back up, having him torn between walking in Professor X’s shoes versus leaving the X-Mansion to raise his child(!) with Jean, is a strong emotional throughline for the episode that connects with past events well.

Well, more or less. Look, it’s been more than a quarter century for most viewers. The creative team understandably wants to catch viewers up. So there’s a certain sense of “Hey, here’s everybody’s deal!” to the episode. Wolverine’s still sweet on Jean and snippy with Scott. Rogue’s still plagued by her inability to make contact with others, but has a certain amiable concordance with Gambit despite that. Beast still dispenses literary quotations with ease, and Jubilee still laments not getting to the fly the jet. If you haven't done a rewatch, or lived on the memes, there’s plenty here to introduce the characters and their dynamic.

I especially appreciate the re-addition of Morph, who was one of my favorite characters from the original series, and who adds to the team dynamic in the current one. His shapeshifting powers are a nice way to invoke everyone from Archangel to Blob to Professor X himself without having to actually include those characters. And his shit-stirring personality remains intact. Likewise, Bishop doesn’t do much beyond join the fray, but it’s nice to have such a frequent collaborator be a part of the regular team as well.

Granted, there’s a lot of exposition here. You kind of expect that, given the gap in time between seasons, so to speak. And it’s nice for the show to pick things up with Gyrich and Trask and the Friends of Humanity and the Sentinels, even if it involves a lot of “As you know”-type dialogue to get lapsed viewers back up to speed. You can pretty readily see the seams of this being a relaunch, with all the table-setting and throat clearing that entails.

All of that said, I appreciate the ways “To Me, My X-men” parallels the first episode of the 1992 series with some suitable twists and new wrinkles. We return to a conflict between the X-Men and the sentinels. They face down the same villains. They solve the same sort of mystery. They face the same sort of prejudices they did before.

Only this time, Cyclops is in charge and having to figure out how to balance principle and practicality. This time, they’re already a family that must be held together, rather than recalcitrant individuals who need to come together. And most movingly, now it’s Jubilee who’s helping to take in a lost soul struggling with their powers, speaking to what the X-Men did for her and her self-esteem when they took her in amid the prior series’ premiere. That's a nice way to mark how far Jubilee has come (in a better fashion than the original show’s Xmas special), and to start things anew in the same spirit, with her as an ambassador for what Xavier’s School for the Gifted can do for someone.

X-Men ‘97 seems to carry on that spirit. I can't pretend it gets everything right. Some of the changes are jarring, or downright strange. But this feels enough like the X-Men I knew and loved growing up. It pushes the right nostalgia buttons, while taking a few risks to move things forward and recognize the changes that have taken place, in television and society, in the last thirty years. Given the strife and prejudice of the day, the X-Men are more salient than ever, and being more than a mere tribute, X-Men ‘97 seems to recognize that. The angles aren’t always clean and the seams sometimes show, but in its opening hour at least, “To Me, My X-Men” is a quality retrofit, ready for new purpose.

[7.7/10] A cool episode to open the season! I’m a sucker for a good film noir homage, and casting Nebula as the former bad guy trying to break good is a great way to reimagine the “conflicted gumshoe” archetype. The episode does a nice job of showing her as a true believer who shows loyalty to her new cause, even when everyone doubts her. The fact that Nova Prime turns out to be the culprit, and it’s her lack of devotion to the cause of righteousness that exposes her, gives the story a certain ironic poetry, which I appreciate.

I also enjoyed the aesthetic here quite a bit! I was a bit more mixed on the look of this show last season, as I recall. But the cell-shading fits unexpectedly well with the grim future dystopian setting of Xandar. The show used some neat colored lighting, a darker palette, and some off-kilter framings to evoke the planet as a unique and memorable cesspool. The show managed to evoke a real Cowboy Bebop-esque atmosphere, which isn’t easy in such a different animation style and cinematic universe.

There were also a few particularly good sequences. The scene where Nebula connects with the data core had the right mix of startling body horror and evocative coloring. Her and Yon Rogg spelunking through the old data tower, replete with underwater elements, made this one memorable too. In addition to Cowboy Bebop, these sequences in particular had a real Animatrix vibe that I enjoyed.

I also appreciated Nebula’s new crew. The combo of her, Howard the Duck, Korg, Groot, and a choppy-hands guy lent the right comic misfit badass quality to their standoffs with the corrupt Nova Corps. And Nova Prime making a deal to let Ronan the Accuser take over in exchange for reopening the planet to the sun is a cool motivation, one that's understandable but mercenary, in a way that runs counter to the principles Nova Prime inculcated in Nebula. The dialogue ties into the dark versus light imagery and symbolism that pervades the episode.

Overall, this is a cool, stylistic way to kick off season 2, with a nice noir-filled outing that uses familiar characters in novel ways, and gives us some deeper insights into Nebula to boot.