And just like that, it's over. The final montage is one of the most emotional moments I've seen on TV, not because it wraps anything up in a nice bow (or ribbon) but because it restates its general thesis: life is cyclical, and life just goes on. It's the kind of show you never want to see end, really.
Season 5 has some issues with how far off the deep end characters go in making up bullshit but I'll be damned if it isn't close to the best season. It's not a perfect season of TV (unlike, say, Season 2), but it is a perfect season of The Wire.
Final thoughts;
Fuck Cheese.
Fuck Scott.
Fuck Herc right up his ass.
Poor Dukie.
Go Bubs.
"That was for Joe." ~ I love you, Slim Charles. Right up there with Daniels, Bunny, Omar, Kima, Cutty and Bunk as one of the most respectable characters in the show (damn, the list could go on, for a show about moral grey areas there were a lot of shining stars).
Sydnor as the new McNulty and Michael as the new Omar are both threads I wish could get explored more. Sydnor was an underdeveloped character but he had potential and showed signs of being good po-lice. Michael's arc is one of the most complete runs in the show, and carrying on the torch of Omar is drama I desperately want to see. Oh well, The Wire: the Movie dies in my dreams, I guess.
Ralphie is dead. Can't say I saw that one coming. I also can't say that I saw how he would be humanized. Few characters on The Sopranos are one-dimensional, but few seem as straightforward as Ralphie. He's a shit. That's kind of his character. He's a guy who gets away with all his bad behavior because he's good at his job. We all know the type. But little-by-little, the show peeled layers away from him that made him more vulnerable, less of a monster, and it culminated here right before he dies.
He has quirks in the bedroom. Like so many others on this show, he has mommy issues. He has a son whom he loves enough to be clearly devastated after an accident leaves the son severely injured on Ralphie's watch. He apologizes to Rosalee for how he acted now that he knows what it's like to have something terrible happen to a child. He donates money in Jackie Jr.'s honor. He proposes. He breaks down in tears. Maybe this isn't the monster we thought.
Or maybe it is. Paulie is clearly jealous of the place Ralphie holds in Tony's inner circle as an earner, even if Tony himself isn't terribly fond of the guy. Ralphie is the man who sends Paulie's mom into hysterics when trying to take out his revenge on Paulie himself. He's a man who beats a young stripper to death. He's a man who, maybe, kills any number of innocent, majestic creatures because it makes financial sense.
I don't know if Ralphie or one of his soldiers set the fire that killed Pie-Oh-My. The scene gives hints that point in either direction. Ralphie denies it, convincingly, but we've seen him lie straightfaced before. He has the motive to do it though, and his comments to Tony could confirm that he did the deed. But in the end, it doesn't really matter. What matters is that Tony believes Ralphie did it. Tony felt a connection to a simple, beautiful animal in a way he struggles to do with his fellow man. He's seen Ralphie murder innocent creatures before, and this time, his anger boils over in private, without his colleagues to calm him down or hold him back.
It's one of the most breathtaking, nervewracking sequences of the show. The way these two oxes struggle with one another, the way two seasons' worth of frustrations and tension finally come to a head. And then, just as quickly, it's all over.
Nearly any other show would have ended the episode there. Instead, the second half of the episode is quiet, meditative, almost boring, but in a good way. When Tony calls Chris to come help him get rid of the body, it's not shocking, or dramatic, it's mundane. It's almost as though the "regularness of life" that Chris once spoke of extends even to the covering up of a brutal murder. Tony and Christopher prepare the body, they watch T.V., they obliquely talk about what happened and what it means. They bond, slowly and without fireworks.
This is an episode where the question of "whoever did this" matters less than the fact that it was done. There's undercurrents of blame when Ralphie's son Justin is injured, from Ralphie to the friend who shot the bow and arrow, from Ralphie's ex-wife who blames Ralphie for the lack of supervision, from Ralphie to the ex-wife for buying Justin the bow and arrow. But at the end of the day, Justin's injured and who did it doesn't really matter. When Junior is hit on the head by a boom mic, it has little to do with the Justice Department (negligence, maybe?) but Tony declares he'll sue them and they use it to get Junior's charges dropped or at least his trial postponed. Ralphie may have had his horse killed, or it may have been an accident, but the possibility is enough for him to take out his anger on Ralphie. And as far as the rest of the mobsters know, Tony may have taken out Ralphie (which, as Chris suggests, could send the wrong message) or it could have been any number of other people who Ralphie has pissed off over the years. (Again as Chris notes, Paulie is a likely suspect.)
"Whoever did this" is ambiguous. It prevents you from laying blame. It's a vague sense of a wrong being committed, and a futile pointing of fingers, when real justice, or real comeuppance, is hard to come by, or at least to understand, in the world of The Sopranos. But one thing is true, at the end of all of this, Tony is alone, in the dark, before he steps into a blinding light and the whole thing ends. Who knows what else is in store for him. Tony is complicated, angry, damaged, and often lonely individual, whoever did that to him.
Full disclosure, I knew what happened in this episode before I went in. Sometimes you just pick things up through cultural osmosis. But it took some of the oomph out of this one for me. It was still tragic to see what Adrianna went through, to see her tentative hopefulness and dreams of getting away from all this dashed completely. But I can only imagine what the impact would be if you didn't know it was coming.
One of the things I find interesting about The Sopranos is that, contrary to a lot of movies and shows about the mob, it's never really on the mobsters' side. Sure, the show invites you to be allured by Tony Soprano and his brood, but at the same time wants to chastise you for being allured by him. The beleaguered gardener throughout the season is a persistent reminder that these are not good men, and most of what they do involves stepping on the little guy.
But at the same time, it doesn't make the FBI agents who are plotting against the mob looking any more righteous by comparison. They gossip casually about why Adriana hooking up with Tony would be good for business. They casually discuss how a woman marrying her abuser could be good for them. They treat Adriana, a woman who is clearly out of her depth with this stuff, like a tool, almost like cattle, rather than a person. Sure, the FBI are on the side of good, to the extent it exists in a show like this, but they're just as dehumanizing and dismissive of anyone who doesn't help them achieve their goals as the mobsters are.
And that's the tragedy. Chris claims to have loved Adriana. His recurring beatings of her don't seem to lend credence to that, but he does seem broken up by it at the end of the episode. And Tony too, though he is allegedly supposed to be an unrepentant monster, has at least a moment's pause there on the lot at the end of the episode, which is more than can be said for the frosty FBI agent who's been Adriana's contact over these years.
At base, Adriana was someone reaching out for a person who cared about her, a real friend. Danielle halfway promised and provided that and then betrayed Adriana's trust. Chris seems entirely dismissive about Adriana's feelings and her stress. Her newer FBI contact bristles at any of Adriana's moments of reaching out for kinship. And Tony Soprano, the only one on the show who seems to actually connect with her, is the one who orders her killed. Adriana is, to the extent anyone on this show is, an innocent. She's dumb and naive and while she knows what's up to some degree, it's easy to see her swept up it at a level over her head. When people like that suffer or get killed, through the actions of both sides of the good guy/bad guy divide, it shows that this "war" has civilian casualties like any other.
Going into this episode, I knew that there was "a shocking surprise ending." So when Eugene Pontecorvo is revealed to be working with the FBI, I said to myself, "Eh, that's not that big of a twist." And then when he killed himself, I thought that had to be what I'd heard about and I said to myself "Eh, that's not that big of a twist." And then Uncle Junior shot Tony and I said, out loud this time, "What the fuck?"
Color me surprised. It was a hell of a moment. The show had spent much of this episode and the last couple of Season 5 to suggest that Tony's days might be numbered. Frank had a legitimate beef with Tony that didn't seem likely to be settled easily. Johnny Sack himself didn't seem too enamored with his New Jersey counterpart. Chris continued to run hot and cold on his uncle. Silvio openly talked about dissension in the ranks. Eugene himself seemed back into a corner with suggestions from more than one corner that he could bump off Tony, and even Vito talked about his possibly becoming the boss of the family.
Instead, it was a man with dementia who believed that he was taking out an intruder or Pussy Malenga or something along those lines in an almost random occurrence. That's often the way in this show -- when everything is looking to build to some expected confrontation, the unexpected, even mundane happens to throw it all into chaos. (See also: Richie Aprile.) There's a sense that David Chase and his colleagues are quite conscious of this episode as the beginning of the final season, with a number of callbacks to early episodes. Junior's obsession with Pussy Malenga (the guy he wanted to knock off at Vesuvio in the show's first episode), and ending up killing the nephew who stood in his way, is a nice little feint toward that opening entry, as is Tony's refrain of "it's a nursing home", in a flip on his usual response to discussion of the retirement community and his mental retcon of what happened with his mother and that pillow.
The episode also draws a number of contrasts between Tony and Eugene, and in a larger sense, between the Sopranos and the rest of the world. Tony and Carmela are enjoying sushi every night and buying expensive cars as apologies. Other folks are feeling the pinch. Even Eugene, who inherits 2 million, can't get away. In many ways it's an episode about the big guy and the little guy. Tony can throw his weight around, he can make choices, live lavishly, at the expense of those around and affected by him. Eugene, even with money, doesn't have power, and that means that everyone from Tony to the FBI can toss him around without his having any say in the matter.
It's also about that difference between money and freedom. When Carmela shows up to Ginny Sack's home, ostensibly for a spa day, but mostly to show off her new porsche while Ginny is having money trouble because of her husband's indictment, it's a little more of the haves rubbing their success in the noses of the have-nots. But when she tries the same with Angie Bumpensero, and Angie reveals that she bought herself a corvette instead, Carmela is taken aback, and is again reminded that her wealth does not give her the independence she once so sorely sought.
And there's also an idea of death as the great leveler, no matter how low your are on the totem pole or how high you've climbed. When Eugene hangs himself, the camera doesn't cut away to spare us his suffering. Instead, it lingers, and the audience sees Eugene kicking frantically, gasping for air, until he finally collapses after a few final twitches. It's incredibly uncomfortable to watch, but underscores the unpleasantness of his position that this is preferable to going on. But then the show pulls the same trick once more. A different show might have ended simply on Junior shooting Tony and Tony collapsing to the ground. Instead, it stays with Tony as he agonizingly pulls himself across the room, struggles and strains to dial 9-1-1, before passing out from blood loss. Tony and Eugene may be at different stations in life, but when it comes to the throes of death, the type of suffering that may be visited upon a person, Tony's money and power can't stop it anymore than Eugene can.
[7.8/10] People will go to incredible lengths when something matters enough to them. If something we care about is at stake, something stirs in the blood, something that pushes beyond the places that we usually go. It can cause us to take chances we wouldn’t normally take, or cross boundaries we wouldn’t normally transgress.
That’s definitely true for Nacho in this episode. If there’s been a consistent trend to his character over the course of the show, it’s that he’s apt to keep things stable if possible. He’s not someone who likes to rock the boat. He’s more thoughtful, more calculating, than the hot-blooded Salamancas he inevitably works with.
But the other consistent throughline is that Nacho loves his father and will take chances, put himself at risk, in ways that he wouldn’t normally do in order to protect the man who raised him. It’s frightening when Gus Fring’s goons kidnap Nacho late in the evening and make him watch as one of the henchman implicitly threatens his dad. It’s in keeping with Gus’s M.O. from prior series, invoking threats to loved ones to assure compliance, and his usual calm demeanor through it all only makes it more concerning.
Michael Mando does a superb job selling the magnitude of that threat. There is a raw desperation to him when he’s begging Gus not to go through with it, when he says that he’ll find a way to earn Lalo’s trust. Nacho confirms that he was intentionally stepping on the package (presumably to give Gus an edge in the marketplace?) and that he’s been following Fring’s orders. But Gus perceives the threat that Lalo represents and is willing to push his mole to his absolute limits in order to protect himself against his plotting rival. The button to push is Nacho’s father, and Gus knows that.
In a way, it’s the same kind of button that Jimmy’s trying to push. He’s chasing an image of success with his current racket, but also one of familial connection. As I’ve said multiple times before, Kim now occupies the space in Jimmy’s life that Chuck once did, trying to hold him back from his worst impulses and representing the person whose approval Jimmy is desperate to get.
The difference is that Kim likes and even loves Jimmy. Their problems aren’t going away -- the fact that Jimmy mistakes Kim’s objections to his line of work as an objection to him offering discounts confirms that -- but there’s something legitimate between them. The way they horse around in the shower, speak frankly to one another about their dreams and concerns, confirms that there’s something real binding them together even as more and more seems to threaten to tear them apart under the surface.
Jimmy’s blind to that though. He imagines the two of them in a big house together, enjoying the spoils of success together, making a future together. It’s tragic because that’s a future we know (or at least have good reason to think), he’ll never see. Jimmy is hustling more than ever -- a point that “50% Off” underlines -- but it’s not just for the sake of the game, it’s for the sake of living a dream life with Kim that he believes is finally within reach.
We know that dream’s liable to fall apart, but “50% Off” also gives us a glimpse of what it feels like when that type of connection dissipates. The briefest check-in in this episode is with Mike, who is once again babysitting his granddaughter. The visit goes well, with the grizzled pro enlisting her help in a home improvement project and using football to teach her times tables at the same time. Everything’s hunky dory until Kaylee starts asking about her father.
It’s then that Mike starts staring off into the middle distance, forced to think once again about how his son lost his life thanks to getting mixed up in his father’s muck. Maybe it’s a stretch on my part, but I’d also like to think he connects it with his grief over Werner, seeing another good man taken down by a world of killers and thieves that Mike is active and complicit in. At the very least, Mike is still raw over it, as indicated by a home littered with beer cans and misery. So he takes it out on his granddaughter, his son’s child, whom all of this is supposed to be for.
It’s tough to watch. Jonathan Banks nails the scene as always, and you feel his hurt and lament his misplaced anger. Mike is someone who did whatever he had to in order to look after his family, particularly to soothe his soul after Matty’s death. But years later, with more blood on his hands, it’s debatable whether that tack has made things better or worse for him.
Jimmy’s hoping it can still make things better for him though. Once again, it’s fun to see him do what he does best. The show does a nice job at dramatizing how much Jimmy is overloading himself, aiming to churn through cases to build up his bankroll, with the oner of him traipsing through the courthouse. It captures the flurry of activity as Jimmy rolls through everyone from clients on the phone, to opposing DAs, to Howard Hamlin, striking a conciliatory tone and making his first season 5 appearance. We understand why Jimmy is doing all this -- to pay off his dream with Kim -- but the how is still entertaining.
His tricks, however, don’t seem to work on Suzanne Ericsen, the DA who tried to put Huell away and still seems to hold some resentment for the newly-dubbed Saul Goodman. She correctly sniffs out his churn plan and tells him that it’s his problem, not hers. So Jimmy takes it a step further. He bribes the elevator guy to get them stuck together and makes himself annoying enough that Suzanne would rather negotiate with him over their fifteen cases than listen to him rehearse anymore.
Jimmy gets what he wants. This is far from the most devious trick he’s ever played, but it’s indicative of the lengths he’ll go to achieve his goals. He is not, as Kim did, bending the rules in order to get the outcome that he thinks is truly right. He’s valuing speed over justice, gamesmanship over conscientiousness, with the idea that it’ll speed up his business and help cement his life with the person he cares about. It’s a shortcut, one made in the name of an important relationship.
In a strange way, Nacho is trying to do the same. It’s no secret that he and Lalo are not exactly on the same page. But Gus demands that he ingratiate himself to Salamanca du jour as the war between that family and “the chicken man” gradually escalates. So Nacho has to take some chances himself, accelerate a bond between him and his boss, to protect the life of his father.
Thankfully, a pair of idiots create the perfect opportunity. Granted, the episode spends way too much time on the moronic duo who are so inspired by Saul Goodman’s titular half-off promise that they go on an extended crime spree and use it as a refrain. But the pair’s efforts leads them to run afoul of one of the Salamanca drug distribution spots, eventually leading the cops to it.
Unfortunately for Lalo and his crew, there was a nearly-full pack of the product in question stashed in their safe house, one that’s all but sure to be forfeited as the cops swarm the place. But Nacho sees an opportunity. Without asking permission, he bolts over to the house, takes a page from his web-slinging acquaintance and leaps across rooftops, narrowly avoiding the police while recovering the stash.
The sequence is less tense that the well-done direction and composition would suspect, given that the plot all but demands that Nacho succeed. But still, Lalo declares him a badass, gives him a little more autonomy in their next scene together, and seems to trust Nacho more than he did before after his daring move. It was a chancey decision from Nacho, but one that created an opening for him with Lalo, and helps him protect his dad.
In some ways that’s a simple story, but the one that winds its way through both Better Call Saul and Breaking Bad. One character or another chugs through the status quo; something comes along that puts their loved ones’ future at risk, and so they go to extremes to take care of those people. But that’s only half of the equation. More often than not in this storytelling universe, there’s a cost to those extremes, something lost when the endless hustle and avoidance of consequences catches up to you.
It already has for Mike. Jimmy’s future is clouded by what we know of his destination. And as Nacho tugs ever harder on that thread, it may soon unravel for him too.
It's interesting to see the macho mobsters deal with the idea of homosexuality. Tony in particular seems not to care except that he has to. Again, we're seeing a lighter, more sensitive, more understanding Tony who keeps having to go back to his old ways because of his business. As Silvio lays out for him, if he's seen to have gone soft, even on something like who his capo sleeps with, because of the prejudices of his men, the whole thing could fall apart (as we saw when he was in a coma). Tony is trying to give into his better nature (despite his air conditioner bugging him) but more and more has to make the same compromises he always did.
I did enjoy the Melfi scene in this episode particularly. These scenes have a way of nudging at Tony's various hypocrisies and, the way he explained that guys get a pass in jail and how adamant he was that he never partook, and this large defense of homophobia he gives before essentially admitting that he doesn't care and wishes that he could let Vito be Vito was very Tevye-esque. It's an interesting idea -- Tony hates the idea of homosexuality in the abstract, but he knows Vito as a real live human being, and that's something much harder to hate. There's an interesting parallel with and Tony and Chris's conversation about the Arab men Chris has been dealing with. Chris concludes that they can't be terrorists because one of them has a dog, and they act like real people, not like scowling villains in a bond movie. I don't know whether or not those men are or aren't terrorist, but both scenes gesture toward the idea that we have one conception of the things we fear or hate or are uncomfortable with, and the reality of the situation, how complex and, dare I say, human, the people who embody those fears are, can throw us for a loop.
In some ways it's the same thing with Meadow's story. She sees the Afghani family who comes to see her as real people while her parents write them off as part of a nebulous other, to where they conclude that their son probably deserved whatever happened to him. But on the other side of the coin, Meadow was socialized into the civilian mafia culture and sees them as real people in a way that allows her to excuse and ignore the terrible things they do and that the culture endorses in a way that Finn, who is not nearly so indoctrinated, cannot.
And at the same time, Carmela is feeling restless again, in no small part because the two significant men in her life -- Tony and her father, have hindered her attempt at independence with the spec house while Angie Bumpensero is not only living well from her own body shop business, but is "putting money on the street." There's the hint that frustrated by her shot at legitimate business, she may want to be a bigger part of Tony's.
And Vito is...doing Vito stuff. We don't see much of him running away, and the show wisely chooses to depict most of it visually rather than in dialogue, but you do see him glancing at a seemingly accepted gay couple and get the impression that he too is torn between two worlds - the life he wants to live as his out self and the mob life that allows him to provide for his family (there's a lot of talk about him being a good father and a good husband). As in the last episode, both he and Tony can push down parts of themselves or they can get eaten alive but those around them. Vito's hoping he can live free here, at least for a while, with death very much looming in the corners of the place he might have belonged has his life gone differently.
What do we do when our heroes fail us? What do we do when the people we once looked up to start to fade away, to lose what made them vibrant and admirable. And worse yet, what do we do when we grow up, and realize that our heroes only seemed larger than life because we were so small?
These are the issues that "Remember When" deals with. We learn about how much Tony looked up to Paulie when he was younger, how he was, in many ways, Tony's role model. And now that he's a boss, and has a greater understanding of what goes into running this thing, he sees the chattiness that once made Paulie seem gregarious as annoying at present, and worse, as a liability. He sees the hot-headedness that made Paulie seem bold and cool when he was young now makes him risky when Tony's trying to close a new deal. The sheen is gone, and Tony seems to come very close to killing the man he used to admire.
There's a parallel story with Junior and Carter at the medical ward. Junior is a faded big shot. He tries to maintain his personal style -- running card games, getting favors on the side, bucking against the authority, even in his diminished state. And while we only get a handful of clues about Carter, Junior's would-be protege, it's hinted that he has fallen idols as well -- that he's in here because of violence against a father whom he felt he was never good enough for and whom he could never live up to. There's also hints that his father, in turn, couldn't live up to his grandfather. And when Junior gets tired of fighting, tired of trying to hang on to who he was in that picture Beansie shows Tony, Carter is disgusted, failed by another father figure, and attacks him, leaving what looks like to be even worse brain damage.
There's more than a thematic thread connecting the two stories, when Junior calls Carter by his nephew's name. Junior is another broken idol for Tony, a man whom he loved who turned on him. Tony once asked Junior if he loved him back, and in this episode you see that Junior did, in some sense, that when he's talking to Carter he's missing Tony in a peculiar way.
I love the subtext that oozes throughout this episode. I love the business with the Ginny Sack insult bubbling up at just the right time, and Paulie remembering Big Pussy and seeming nervous the entire time on the boat, and the Napoleon portrait. There's so much that goes unsaid and yet it so viscerally felt here. So much shading in the background that makes good on story threads that have lingered for seasons. It's that type of ability from the show - how it says so much without ever making it explicit: Tony's intent to kill Paulie and eventually relenting in his turmoil over killing a man he once loved; Paulie's remorse and understanding that he needs to make good with Tony, Junior's feelings of being beaten down, of accepting his diminished capacity, and Carter's anger at another "great man" failing him.
Tony is definitely grappling with the sense that everything fades in this episode. I've often heard the back half of The Sopranos as a series about decline, and there's a certain underlying autumnal feeling to it - that everything's dying, that it's all slowly going away. But despite the faded lions who make up the theme of the episode, I don't think that's true here necessarily. I think there's instead a sense that everything is great--Tony admits as much--but that it still feels very precarious. That even when things are stable and prosperous and happy, Tony is so snakebitten from everything he's been through that he can't enjoy it. He keeps "waiting for the other shoe to drop." I don't see Tony as a man in the middle of autumn. I see him as a man who is in the heart of spring, but who can't stop thinking about winter, due in no small part to seeing how men like Paulie and Junior are now so diminished no matter what seasons they once enjoyed.
The four men at the core of this episode are all connected in this way, in the way that there is love and admiration in both directions, but also a sense of distance, and in some ways disgust. There's even discussion of it in the past, when Tony asks Paulie if Johnny Boy ever really believed in him, and Junior relays the story of his own father making him walk 11 miles home for refusing a quarter. And in the episode itself, Tony remembers the man he looked up to, and Paulie is careful enough that in the shadow of that past image, Tony can't quite muster the excuse he needs to see past that and kill the ghost of that image that still remains. Carter's respect for Junior is a projected one, laden with the baggage of his own paternal relationships and not enough truly-established affection to prevent him from lashing out in the way that Tony forebeared from. As Beansie points out, for everyone but Tony, these men are all each other has. That leads to heightened emotions, both good and bad, and the episode does a fantastic job of exploring that idea.
I suppose it's really just the power of suggestion from the knowledge that Mad Men creator Matthew Weiner joined The Sopranos started in Season 5, but this episode felt very Mad Men in tone. The big black bear, a lumbering avatar of Tony for both him and Carmella to some degree or another, is the kind of absurd, dark comedy that the 60s-set drama would use in spades.
There was a similar balance of humor and severity in the storyline between Paulie and Chris. There's something perfect in their dynamic, where they can believably slip between good-natured laughter, well-felt affection, and barely kept from boiling over anger and resentment, sometimes in the same scene. And there's something very blackly comic about their killing an innocent man, and having it be the thing that brings them back together. By this point in its run, The Sopranos understands its characters, and how they disregard almost anyone who isn't in their little circle. Only shows in this weight class can take a sequence like this and make it funny in and absurd, existential sort of way, and also make it a meaningful commentary on the characters and the worldview they represent.
The same goes for Tony's absurd attempts to woo Dr. Melfi and her restrained attraction toward him. This is worth more in depth analysis, but it was some of the best work on the show from Lorraine Bracco this side of "Employee of the Month" and James Gandolfini was great as always going between Tony's best attempt to be charming to a woman who rejects his advances, presenting himself as cosmopolitan or caring or sincere, and then turning on a dime and becoming the vulgar, resentful man the audience has come to know over the last four seasons. "The Two Tonys" indeed.
It's nice, by the same token, to say hi to the rest of The Sopranos's world. Trouble is clearly a-brewing with the right of succession in New York. Steve Buscemi (!) is coming to town. AJ is testing the boundaries of his parents' discipline with them separated. And Janice and Bobby got married. (!?) All-in-all a great start to what will hopefully be a great season.
One of the finest episodes of the show. So many great elements. Tony, for once, is trying to be a good guy: breaking up with his comare but looking after her, hoping she gets the help she needs, even when he's getting frustrated. Carmella is on the other side of it, envious of Janice and lamenting the life she's trapped in with a man who doesn't look at her the way Richie looks at Janice.
And Janice, who has transformed from the free spirit she blew into The Sopranos's world as into a woman who has adopted her mother's skill at manipulating the people in her life. The moment that she shoots Richie, a man who is otherwise fearless, he seems genuinely taken aback. A man like Richie seems to legitimately think he's bulletproof.
Junior sees that he isn't though, that for how much harder Richie is than Tony at time, Tony can command the respect that Richie never will. Tony's complexity, the thing that make him less than the gangsters of the last generation and their style, also make him a leader. Junior's would-be reconciliation with Tony isn't sweet exactly, but it's something.
And geeze, Tony's scene with his mother is amazing. The actress who plays Lyvia, and the writers who crafted her character have done masterful work in creating this monster who both is plausible as creating a man like Tony and who seems even worse than her pitbull of a son. Tony finally confronting his mother with her being able to respond, with all he says, is a powerful moment, and her quiet laughter when he trips and falls just says everything.
And last, but not least, Pussy's sad turn at thinking he can become a G-man leaves him like Carmella, grasping at something greater and lamenting the position he's stuck in. So much good work on all fronts.
Why are you reading this if you haven't seen the episode? Get outta here ya nut!!!!
Ahhh yes, .. nothing like a bit of primo Valdez Rocks Snakeroot Kush, chased with an outstanding Picard 80's Merlot to get the juices, ...and the episode, going. Well, now we understand why Raffi is so pissed at "J.L.", but, I suspect it is not so much at her loss of stature and livelihood, as it was how quickly and thoroughly he seemingly abandoned her after shooting himself in both feet by playing the usually reliable Picard "my way or I'll take my ball and go home" card. Must have been rather shocking to finally get the "don't let the turbo lift door hit you in the azz on the way out" reply, so unexpectedly. In his own way, he was drowning his sorrows just as she was, but, he was MAKING the wine rather than self medicating with it.
So then, were Daj and Soji yin and yang like Data and Lore? And a more troubling query would seem to be, is Momma Asher now on the wrong side of the Terra Firma, simply ignorant of recent events, a holographic projection, or a clone of Dr Funkenstein? Inquiring minds want to know. And just what is that voodoo that Ramdah doo's so well?
OK, we already know that dermal regenerators can fix up an injury better than Dr's Nassif and Dubrow in our timeline. So why then do Hugh and the other reclaimed former drones still have facial scarring. Is it a badge of honor, like a dueling scar, or, a warning, to others like a scarlet "B"?
Here's a suggestion for the Romulan hit squads. On future assignments, forget beaming in with an entire crew, going CQB and H2H, only to miss the target, get murked by inferior numbers, but superier skills, and then assisting them in building their arsenal. (as if J.L. and Co needed any help in that department it seems) Next time just beam in a solitary suicide mercenary and have him activate the green "screw you juice" and eliminate both the target and the evidence. Just sayin!
Damn! Commodore Oh went all in with a full house and ran head on into a four of a kind monkey stomp! Guess the "cat's outa' the bag" now.
I though that Dr Jurati might be "compromised" at first, then not, then.... could it all have been a set up? Back burner for now, after her intro to Raffi. Her enthusiasm felt too genuine.
Picard giving Christobal respect by not taking the big chair, and him giving Picard props by waiting for his signature command,...., then Raffi's nonplussed reaction. Priceless!
Great episode overall.....
Honestly, Im not gonna say anything. I'm way too mad.
ACTUALLY IT'S GONNA BUG ME IF I DONT. HOLD MY BEER CUZ IM GONNA RANT.
WHAT :clap:THE :clap:FUCK :clap:.
SERIOUSLY, I don't even know where to start.
They just got all of Dean's character development and shoved up their ass. Boy finally, FINALLY, has control over his life; he's not being controlled by his dad or Chuck or whateverfuck supreme power, his life is his own and he was ready to LIVE it, for God's sake he got a freaking dog. And for what? To be killed by tetanus. The whole season was about defying "destiny", and they killed him the way that was supposed to happen since season 1. I'm sorry but that's just lazy.
DONT GET ME START ON CASTIEL CUZ IM GONNA BE COMPLAINING ABOUT THAT TIL THE DAY I DIE, mf sacrifice himself to save dean's life, just for him die weeks later, WHAT'S THE POINT??? But serious it bugged me so much the fact that they didn't even knowledge his sacrifice, they didn't mourn him or mentioned him. Boy got sucked to mega turbo hell and all that was said was "well too bad". Castiel deserved better. He really did.
I'm not even gonna talk about Sam cuz I'm still offended by those wigs. But what was the point of making him and Eileen a thing, if at the end he wasn't gonna stay with her? Serious.
It just feels like these 15 years of character build, stories, arcs didn't mean shit because at the end they went with the path that was been there since season 1. Dean died young, on a hunt, without a family of his own, and Sam got to live his apple pie life with wife and kids.
WHAT WAS THE POINT.
The theme of this episode seemed to be having someone there for you...or not. The illusion that you have someone there for support or you don't.
The easiest of these is Christopher. He's patting J.T. on the back with one hand, and punching him with the other. (J.T., by the way, is played by Tim Daly, who folks my age will know best as Superman from the D.C. Animated Universe.) The irony seems lost on Chris, who appears legitimately surprised that J.T. didn't call him for support when he felt tempted to return to drugs in the midst of being shaken down by Chris. Chris doesn't understand being there for someone wholly, and separates his professional life and his personal life in a fit of cognitive dissonance that J.T. is right to be baffled by. To be frank, while I appreciated the theme of this particular story, I thought it actually dragged the episode down. It was a little too blunt, too blatant in what it was going for to work as well as it needed to, and in many ways it felt like the Davey storyline being rehashed only with Chris instead of Tony.
The other instance, which is also fairly on-the-nose, is Junior. I have to admit, I was kind of annoyed by this story at first. It seemed like comic relief in an episode where it didn't fit with Junior coming up with more and more outlandish excuses to attend funerals so that he can skip out on his house arrest. It seemed pretty ghoulish after a while. But then, after the death of his cousin's husband, a mere fifteen days after his cousin, he breaks down at the funeral, and it's clear how upset he is that he has no one. As he points out, he has no children, no spouse, and hardly any friends for that matter. He talks about carrying a torch for his brother's mistress but never being able to close the deal. He's a man who feels like there's no one really there for him, and it devastates him. Surprisingly moving.
And lastly, the main story, which is what bring this episode's rating up so high for me, is the story of Tony and his father's mistress. It's clearly that Tony sees, or wants to see, or hates to see, a lot of his father in himself. His ill feelings for his mother are not nearly so repressed anymore, and so upon meeting this mistress, who seems like a nice woman, his first thought is gladness, that it was his mother's fault for pushing him into the arms of this woman.
And then, he starts to unpack some of the stories he's heard. The way this woman who Tony imagines was really there for his father in a way his mother wasn't, didn't even stop smoking for him. And he starts to think about the ways his father wasn't there for his mother. And though he never comes out and says it, he starts to think about the ways he hasn't been there for Carmela. There's a lot of powerful stuff going on under the hood of Tony's story in this episode - his resentment at realizing his father gave his dog away to another family, and his being able to step outside of his own selfishness for once and imagine what his philandering does to his own family. So much said without writing it on the screen, and in a season that's reflected marginal but meaningful growth from Tony, it's another bit of his learning just a little bit more.
This is setting up a strong ending for the show. What I particularly got from this one was how Star Trekky it all felt. The giant flowers in space were such an Original Series concept. From the moment our crew arrived down on the planet it immediately felt like The Next Generation, from the rocky setting to the beautiful (and chintzy) android compound. Even the tone of the dialogue between everyone. I'm was very impressed with how good Isa Briones was here in multiple roles, and actually found her super creepy.
"That's unexpected," followed by the emergence of the Cube was a genuine WOW moment.
I found the emotional scene between Picard and Raffi particularly touching, and a great demonstration of the evolution of Picard's character from the heyday of TNG. He's still awkward but so much more open to expressing and feeling emotions. And again, I have to say that I have absolutely fallen in love with the crew of the La Sirena and I want much more of them.
The surprise appearance of Brent Spiner as another Soong relative (which was spoiled for me thanks to a website publishing articles before the episode has been broadcast worldwide) felt a little too contrived and yet was very welcome.
Thank you! Thank you for this episode, for that long-time waited reunion, for these emotions...Thank you for these 14 years! And for those that are to come.
"I am so proud of you boys. I love you both so much"
I'm so proud of this show, the cast and the crew. I love this show too damn much to even express it with words and this episode was proof. This show has made me someone different. It has touched and changed my life in so many ways I can't even describe.
I cried. So much. I'm a mess, an emotional wreckage. That ending punched me repeatedly in all the feels. I've always sorted emotional episodes into two kinds: the single tear kind, and the wet checks ones. This one was the latter.
300th episodes. Saying it is easy, but actually achieving it is unbelievable. I still remember the first time that I watch this show. I was just an 11-year-old kid and the show got me hooked from the get-go. Watching the Winchester family together being happy, even if it's for 5 minutes, makes me so damn happy.
This episode should've been two hours long. I want a longer reunion and for Jeffrey Dean Morgan to stick around. Every scene he was in was a rollercoaster of emotions. John and Mary's meeting, John and Dean's talk, and especially John and Sam's moment. I had to paused for a second there, because I couldn't control my emotions.
I loved that episode 100th was all about the brothers; episode 200th about the fans; and episode 300th about the Winchester family. It feels poetic somehow.
The first part of the episode, the ghost story, screamed season 1. It had a nostalgic Supernatural touch. I miss those episodes, but clowns? Why does it always have to be clowns?!?
I didn't understand the teenagers storyline. Who are them? Why were they important? Were the writers setting up a spinoff? Why did they tease the fact that Max and the other girl were gay? That subplot sort of felt unnatural. But I do appreciate that they showed the boys interacting with the townsfolk. I sometimes forget the bunker is not built in the middle of nowhere.
When the Impala was stolen, I'd dare to say Jensen wasn't even acting. No matter how many years pass, he always charms a woman.
Sam's Steve Jobs wannabe Ted Talk was embarrassing to watch. But I enjoyed it. "God bless, kale, am I right?" lol. And the blue steel picture they used for Dean's wanted poster, and his "Okay, well, I'm cool, but you're...ugh".
Seeing Castiel full season 4 angel was amazing. The attitude, the wings, his coldness and his "I'm an angel of the Lord". Plus, the old trenchcoat.
I loved seeing Zachariah again. But you know what I loved even more? That he died again. He's one of those "I hate the character, I love the actor" cases. Also, that Constantine reference had me rolling.
I loved that Dean told John about Henry and that he finally got his family dinner and that he finally got his family dinner. However, I've always wanted to see John's reaction to finding out Mary was a hunter even before he was. And I'vd have definitely loved to see Cas and John together.
The minute Sam said "about mom...", the door squeaked and Mary said the boys' names, my eyes knew how to operate. John's reaction to hearing Mary's voice...just perfect. The way his voice just broke...Jeffrey Dean Morgan is an incredible actor. I loved how Dean was just staring at his aprents kissing and Sam wanted to give them some space. And that was the first time Sam sees his parents together.
Sam's struggle to talk to John was amazing. He said the last thing he remembered about John was lying on the hospital floor. it was heart-breaking. And then, "Sam, son. I am so sorry" and Sam's "I'm sorry too". The feels again.
What really ended up breaking my heart was Dean flinching when the pearl gor crushed. Jesus, why is this show allowed to make me feel that much?
"I'm good with who I am". That was the least Dean thing to ever come out of his mouth. I love that despite his messed-up childhood and everything taht's happened to him, he's still proud of who he's become.
The Johnpoint Paradox was a bit weird. THe fact that this John was the 2003 version of him wasn't really belieavable but I'm so damn glad they found a reason to bring him back and get some closure. I'm also glad for the ending scene. I got the feeling that he would still remember.
Emotions run wild the episode, especially with the four of them involved. They did an increadible job. I wasn't expecting any different from episdoe 300th. I keep o nthinking about it. Episode 300th. Few shows reach that point and few shows get me as excited and emotional as Supernatural does.
If the last episode was about the potential of Tony changing, about his ability to become a different, possibly better person, this episode is about how it may be too late, about how he's too deep into this world that any move toward his becoming kinder and gentler and more sensitive would only make him weaker in the eyes of his colleagues and competitors.
Institutional fatalism is really more the realm of The Wire, The Sopranos' HBO cousin that was on the air at the same time as this season of the show, but there's a sense of it here too. There's the idea that to be a major player in the mob, you have to be ruthless, to constantly show strength, that any hint of compassion or care only shows you as vulnerable. The Mafia, at least the incarnation, doesn't just welcome in ruthless individuals, it makes them and reinforces them. Anyone who deviates from the plan gets whacked or marginalized. Even if Tony wants to change, if he starts moving down that path, it won't be long until people are literally gunning for him. So he starts to turn back into the pitiless gangster we know, even when it makes him vomit up blood.
We shouldn't give too much credit to the mob, though. Even before Tony listens to Melfi's advice and sizes up his men for a fight to reestablish his image of strength and dominance, there's a sense that his patience for sensitivity is fraying. It's summed up best in the metal detector scene, where his having to go back and forth is clearly irking him, but he's trying to keep it under control. There's all these little things nagging at Tony's happiness. It's sweet when he talks about the idea of wanting to hold Meadow's kid (it's frankly the sweetest moment we've probably seen from Tony in the whole series), but it's clear that certain nagging things keep bringing the easy-to-anger Tony back to the fore.
It's an interesting contrast with Johnny Sack, who always seemed like a kinder, gentler mobster in some ways. Sure, he clearly had a temper and wasn't above ordering Ralphie killed for insulting his wife, but that's just it. In contrast to Tony, Johnny seemed to legitimately love his family, not in an idealized sense, not in a "this is the kind of life that's expected of me, but I'm not going to put real effort into it" sense, but in that he legitimately loves his wife as she is, that his heart is undeniably full at seeing her get married and bringing his son-in-law into his circle, and that he is truly devastated when the feds interfere with it. (Make no mistake, the feds come off as pretty big dicks throughout here.)
And while Frank is likely looking for an in to becoming boss regardless, he uses these qualities to tear Johnny down. It clearly makes an impression on Tony, who had his own (different) moment of weakness after collapsing at the party. He's not wrong to notice that Chris is more apt to challenge or disagree with him since the coma. He sees Johnny and admires him, wants to move in that direction perhaps, but sees what it would cost him, and so he beats up his own soldier to show that he's not weak like Johnny, that he's not vulnerable, that he needs to be respected.
There's thematic resonance with Vito's storyline, where he too wants to embrace something other than the tough mobster stereotype and pursue his real sexual desires, but he realizes that once his fellow mobsters see him (and ignore his sad and cringe-y attempts to pass it off as a joke) that his goose is likely cooked. The mob doesn't tolerate differences from the paradigm very well. Vito leaves his home and checks into a cheap motel.
And there's the contrast again. Johnny walks to his prison cell after his daughter's wedding. Vito is scared for his life a dingy rented room. Tony lies in McMansion with his wife. If Tony wants to avoid ending up like Johnny or Vito, or worse, he's got a lot more blood to throw up, and the show underlines how this is, in some ways, a tragedy, that keeps Tony from being the better man he might be.
"We could never actually pick locks, it was Chuck all the time"
What makes a hero?
The episode itself ties to the question that's been circling the show since the finale last season. What is designed by God? Is free will actually a choice? Are we just pawns used by God to play in his chessboard? Can we create our own destiny or are we trapped no matter what we do?
I went a bit philosophical there but, after reflecting upon it, that's the question the episode left me wondering.
Heroes and guest stars. I love that this episode proved that Garth, a "normal" being in a Supernatural world was actually the hero of the story for once. Garth is one of those light characters that make any episode better. He's so pure at heart and so innocent... He's a goddamn treasure.
The episode reminded me of Bad Day at Black Rock where the boys can't handle the situation and Bobby has to appear to sort of save the day. The same with Garth here. Our episode's hero. They say heros have to be pure at heart. Well, there's no one purer than Garth.
I'm gonna miss these crazy, cartoonist looney-Tunney episodes. This was probably the last light-hearted episode were gonna get. It hurts saying it. But let's face it, it was nice to have a breath of fresh air after last week's episode.
I actually enjoyed it a lot. The title itself got me pumped up. Although I actually expected to see the entire journey in the episode, it looks like it's only been the first leg, and we'll get the full circle next week.
If Chuck's actually writing all of this, Garth is definitely his favorite character. It was a very nice send-off to Garth. Watching him with his lovely wife and his children...and then dancing with her. I'm gonna miss him a lot. But what a nice conclusion for this character. He did nothing wrong in his life and even when he sided in the wrong side of things, he always tried to help and do better.
I have one question, though. If I'm not missing anything, the last time Garth was mentioned was when he was tossed in the trunk of the Impala, so what happened in-between?
Everything from Sam's awkward coughing to Dean's parking ticket and his weird dance (the hell's going on in his head?), going through the Impala constantly breaking down was entertaining.
Also, Sam losing his puppy eyes power cracked me up. Well that and Gertie's "Mummy, the giant’s crying!" That actually got a good laugh out of me.
One thing that was odd was the music choices. I've grown up with the show and I can't understand it without classic rock music. The "Werewolves in London" song at the end made me nostalgic of the earlier seasons. I just wish we could have a nice 80s rock classic while the boys drive away in the Impala.
I'm willing to buy that the boys are actually cursed or simply having a bad day, or that Chuck actually decided to give them normal people's problems, but going from that to take their hunting skills away. They've been trained by John. Credit where credit's due. I refuse to believe their training, abilities and accomplishments are the result of Chuck's mumbo jumbo.
"Sam! Dean! I don't think I like this!"
Me neither, Jack. In fact I hate it. I'm still so damn angry and I feel like this anger will never go away.
Supernatural always comes as hurtful, frustrating and heartbreaking, but tonight it reached a new limit.
"Lies" has always been SPN's surname. I normal get really upset when they keep the truth away from one another, but in tonight's episode, it felt different.
The whole sequence with Jack getting into the box was so damn unsettling. I was on the edge of my seat those whole 11 last minutes. Half heartbroken, half terrified. And then, he just gets into the box. No questions asked, blindingly doing whatever they ask him for.
I loved the callback to Dean's nightmare. Jack inside the box with the phone, although I thought we might see his bloody nails. Still, very nicely done.
I get the feeling the boys are gonna learn the same lesson Chuck did. Punishing your children doesn't make them better. And soon, Sam and Dean are gonna learn it, especially Dean.
Jack's willingness to do anything for them. Oh my Chuck! I swear I just want to open the window and scream. I seriously adore him! It made me so damn angry that they gave up on him so soon when he's family. They should feel terrible after seeing how much he trusts them. He's the sweetest, nicest, kindest, most naive character I've ever seen on TV and all he needs is to be protected.
Saying it was heartbreaking falls short. Watching him calling out to them destroyed me. The same with Sam's reaction to the box being locked. You could feel his burden there.
Something in the way he prayed reminded me of that famous "If there's a key...then there must also be a lock" from The French Mistake. They're professional liars, and yet, you could actually see they were lying to him. They were also terrified. Amazing acting on the behalf!
I'm damn glad Cas dared to be so assertive. It's time for him to go all mama bear and fight for his kid.
I'm so angry at Dean. I hated him. Not that I don't understand his motives, but I hate hom for what he did. Not only for lying to Jack to get him into the box, but also for dragging Sam along with him. And you know what's even worse? That he didn't even feel remorseful.
Dean acted numb the whole episode. I get why. I understand how he felt about losing his mom again, especially when she was everything he's ever wanted. But his lack of guilt sealed it for me. And I'm saying this when I always side with Dean, 100%.
I'm so protective if that kid. I just want to hug him. He's a little ball of love and innocene. He deserves everything good that happens to him, and he doesn't deserve to be betrayed, less still from his own family.
After this episode, I swea I don't even care about how they fix Jack's soul. Use magic, find a long lost relative, maybe Sam's lost show which turned magical, make him a jedi, I don't care, but just tell me he's gonna be ok.
I found it heartwarming that the boys had a wakefor Mary, but with all the hunters there, all I was thinking was: "Who are those peopel?" and then Bobby came, Bobby-style. I thought the writers forgot about him! I found it strange that he didn't appear when Mary died. However, his presence in the episode felt forced. He came in, killed a wraith and told Cas to go back to school. I've complained before that I didn't differenciate our Bobby from Alt!Bobby, but our Bobby would've never tried to kill Jack.
"God writes paperback books in his underwear, okay? And angels are dicks". There it goes. Directly to my "out of context lines" folder.
By the way, the ending shot was golden. This is the second time I've been terrified of Jack. Being the ending of season 12 the first one. The smoke, the eyes, the anger...what a cliffhanger!
Next episode's title is already giving me anxiety. "Moriah". THe season isn't gonna end well, we all know that. I just hope Dean comes to his senses and realizes that what he's doing, although perfectably understandable, is not the right way. I can see him about to kill Jack and Chuck appearing right in time to avoid the sacrifice. I don't believe for a second they're gonna kill Jack (I'm never forgiving the writers if it happens), but I know we're gonna suffer.
Another great episode. I love how everyone's reaching out for community, from Tony to Adrianna, to Tony B., and feeling the stress of the fact that it's hard to grasp.
I liked the parallel of Tony getting mad that his cousin called him fat or made fun of him, but then his tipoff that his buddy is in with the Feds is the fact that he says Tony's lost weight, and only after that does Tony call his cousin and apologize in that halfway sense that Tony does so well. It was a subtle way to show how the cousin is something different and apart from his usual mob guys; that he's not a yes man.
To that point, I liked Steve Buscemi a lot in the role. He brings a believability and credibility to a character who is both plausible as someone who was very much a part of the mob, and someone who doesn't want to go back. Again, it was some great work by the writers to have Tony watch the WWII documentary about the soldier still clearly very shaken and regretful about the comrade who took a bullet so he didn't have to, in order to show Tony's guilt for his cousin going to prison rather than him.
In many ways, Tony B. is the inverse of Tony Soprano. Sure, on a superficial level he's skinny while Soprano is fat, he's short while Soprano is tall, but there's a real sense of what might have been in the moments between the two of them. That deal gone wrong is positioned as something of a turning point. Tony B. went to jail, lost his family through not being able to be there, and comes out as a guy who wants to go straight. Tony S. stayed out, rose to the top of the crew, lost his wife through action rather than interaction, and perhaps, subconsciously, wants to get out as well, but can't confront that fact. There's a clear sense not only of Tony Soprano's guilt for what happened to Tony B., but also of the sense that if their positions were reversed -- if Tony S. had gone on that run and Tony B. had stayed home, that the results of their lives might be flipped as well. There's a lot of meat there, and I'm interested to see them explore it.
Same for Adrianna. I have to admit, this storyline has tried my patience at times, but while I initially felt like this story was a retread of Big Pussy's storyline, I think the differences between him and Adrianna make it worthwhile. I like the fact that she is, to the extent anyone is in this world, an innocent -- someone who knows what's going on, but doesn't participate in it like Pussy did or even have the same level of knowledge about it that Carmella does. I really felt for her here. Adrianna isn't dumb, but she isn't as sharp as someone like Carmela, and that makes it feel different in terms of the position the FBI puts her in -- like its taking advantage of someone not sharp enough to go toe-to-toe with them on something like this. I felt very sorry for her, and the contrast of her guilt with the mob wives club and the expressions of support and trust there compared to how she has to drag something personal out of her FBI caseworker is telling.
"The Rat Pack" or the idea that there's a group of people you can be buddies with and trust is an interesting idea that this episode plays around with, whether it's Tony S. and Tony B. feeling out their relationship after 15 years, Adrianna and the rest of the mob wives. (Whose Citizen Kane discussion turned standard gossip session I loved), or the already budding enmity between Carmine Jr. and Johnny Sack who are ostensibly brothers. it's an episode about how that type of camaraderie is difficult to find, or recognize, when it's something you may already have.
Dr Ted was cute.
Oh man, I cried I cried I cried and then I cried some more. I really wanted to see the baby make it. I feel so sorry for Lea and for Shaun. He has grown so much! Him giving Lea his scalpel when he saw Lea was nervous, him just being there for her when she was feeling sad about the loss of their child. He may not have known all of the emotions, but he was still there for her when she needed it most. He may do some things...like the tv at the end, but he loves her. He loves her so much. I really hope this loss doesn't cause some issues down the line, like Shaun trying for another one too early, or not seeming upset about the loss of their baby. To the outside world, when he seemed devoid of emotion after the loss of his baby, but he was feeling it in his own way and I could tell when he hugged Glassman that he was feeling it.
I see some couples seeming to form in Park and Reznick
I felt bad about the granny patient. I hope they show what happens to her next episode with the assisted death thing. Can't believe she got slipped antibiotics... I wonder how he even got his hands on some, especially as just a resident. In my hospital, IV antibiotics are mixed by the pharmacist and sent up by the pharmacy. But then again, I'm not a Dr, just a nurse, so maybe they have privileges I don't know about...just...um...if it was oral, maybe he could have taken it from some old school medication storage area that doesn't have a pyxis...
Tried to surround the biggest spoilers with the tag, but my whole post is like a spoiler, haha.
Alright, let's take this story-by-story:
Carmella and Tony with Dr. Melfi was kind of interesting. The actors who play Tony and Carmella are the strongest in the series, and giving them time to bounce off each other is always a good choice.
The story with the cop was fine. It showed Tony can feel guilt, that he criticizes black people for committing crime when he himself is a mobster and the most moral guy he's encountered so far is a black police officer. It's all a little on-the-nose, but it works well enough.
The clash with Ralphie and Gigi over getting made capo are interesting enough. You can tell things are simmering that are going to boil over soon enough. Same with the FBI losing their bug.
Which brings us to the best and worst parts of the episodes. Let's start with the worst. What the hell was the Artie Bucco storyline. I mean, it was as cliche and rushed a midlife crisis story as you're likely to find. I mean, I get the idea that Artie envies the life his mob buddies lead while he scrapes by as a chef, but it's all just laid on so thick.
The best, however, was the story with Bobby Bacala, Sr. What a great, visceral scene it was to see him take out Mustang Sally. There was a lot of good thematic material in people hitting a point in their life when they want to feel useful still, when they worry about what comes next, and the coldest part of it all was Junior revealing that his concern was just superstition rather than genuine concern for Bobby Jr.'s dad. Overall, it was a pretty middling Sopranos episode, but that storyline elevated it.
Last week I saw a page of a script that was supposedly leaked, where Agnes was trying to talk Rios into beaming down with her so they could be together, and he said he would just have to show her...and, then he deactivated himself.
So, I truly thought Agnes would double-cross A.I. Soong, and that Rios would end up in the golum.
That single bit of mis-direction kept this entire episode blissfully opaque to me, and I had no expectations.
In the end I don't think I've had such a strong emotional reaction to an episode of Star Trek in quite a while. Of course, it's different from those storylines from Deep Space 9 or Voyager (like some involving the Doctor/EMH), but this was saying goodbye to a beloved character.
Dopamine and serial teledramas...it's a very personal equation; just like whether you choose to invest yourself in a poem, or not. If you don't, then you won't enjoy it.
I didn't want to skip the opening credits, and while they played I let myself enjoy the emotions that played across my mind, and the anticipation...even the dread at having to possibly wait another year for the next season, but I took some dopamine accesses while the music played.... Because, "I don't want the game to end."
As the plot thickens, the noose tightens, and the knife twists silently in the wound. Like the proverbial Russian nesting doll, here, the supposed perpetrators are actually the victims, who appear become victimizers, but, are actually being victimized, both by the actual bad actor, and then again by the "system", which in its zeal to seek "justice" for those harmed, instead harms those who have no idea nor explanation for what is occurring to them and everyone near and dear to them.
How often do we allow our own pre-judgments, conceived notions and ideas (prejudices) to color our conception of who a person, that we may have never actually met, truly is? Are we to judge another by the content of their character, the color of their skin, or the content of their twitter feed? Do we still believe that ones actions speak louder than ones Instagram stories, or what the media tells us we should believe? What is reality, and what is subjective spin?
How many of the events that have occurred in or lives, either good OR bad, if just ONE thread were pulled, or one choice in a chain of many were not taken, would never have happened? How often have we dismissed something or been dismissed, simply because we or others simply couldn't comprehend what was being expressed, or what we were ourselves expressing?
This is the dilemma the characters in this story face. From the mother dismissing her daughters warnings as "just a bad dream", to the detectives dismissal of Holly's notion of a doppelganger, and his lack of tolerance for "the unexplained", even when it is staring them in the face. We, as "rational" humans, have a unique ability to see patterns where the actually are none, yet, at the same time, demand that everyone else, upon hearing hoofbeats, should think horses, NOT zebras. Well, what if it actually IS zebras? After all, how do we know the cat is alive or dead until we lift the box?
Oh yeah, and..... Epstein didn't kill himself..........
Damn, this episode was very tense and suspenseful. I do think the show is starting to drag out a little, though, but perhaps not in a conventional way. I feel like it may be dragging out to a bigger reveal, slowly sucking you into the slow pacing of things to catch you off guard to a maximum extent when you're in a deep unexpecting state. That reveal could be that there is more than one entity, although there would probably be more to it than that, to make it worthwhile. I'm starting to buy into that theory myself. One of them appears in dreams, and can appear as anyone, but isn't the one that specifically shapeshifts into other people by a scratch. One of them shapeshifts into someone else by a scratch, someone that it scratched, and is the one who does the killing. One of them is El Coco himself, and he absorbs the grief that's caused by the latter one, the one who does the killing. And all three work together, for some reason. Or maybe they're all the same entity, more or less, somehow, they just have different functions, and each one of them has to do whatever their respective trait is, for the combined, one entity to survive. Of course, that's simply my speculation of things. I may have the general theory correct with the details mostly incorrect. As far as the happenings in the show so far go, I'm fairly certain there have been hints or suggestive occurrences that there is more than one entity. Someone more prone to detail and noticing things will have to chime in on that.
Is it just me or did the main plotline for this episode come out of nowhere? And I don't mean that negatively. It was surprising, is all. Of course, I enjoyed the hell out of it. It just felt extremely out of place. I mean, this is a cop show that's a police procedural (although now that I've written that, a cop show can't (not) be a procedural, right?), and quite lighthearted, for the most part, and has this method of procedure of blending cop-life and personal-lives of the characters. All of a sudden black ops are thrown into the mix? Again, I enjoyed it, but that will certainly require a very specific amount of suspending your disbelief for a fair amount of people, I'd imagine. That whole plotline can't be over, right? There's no way something like that would be introduced just like that into a show like this and then nothing more will come of it. I'm guessing it'll become a big focus very soon, and so will Norman Jangus, whatever his name is. I hope it does. Not just in the sense that if it doesn't, that would be a little odd, but also in the sense that I want it to be. It's a refreshing new breath of air, just one that doesn't necessarily go with the general air of the show.
