Apart from the two excellent Mandalorian episodes, I could have done without this show. Hopefully the next few Star Wars shows feel a bit more organic.
There is a post-credit scene.
Absolutely hated the seizure/motion sickness inducing night scene. I would've much preferred the infamous "I can't see anything" dimly lit cinematography from The Long Night episode of Game of Thrones.
But I loved everything else, especially the tug-of-war. The cast is just phenomenal and the way Number 1 delivers the monologue and his team transforming into warriors is easily the best scene to date.
HOW DARE THEY END IT LIKE THIS ASDFGHJKL
This show is seriously becoming unbearable to watch. I've officially started fast forwarding.
A good final episode, but really hard to take the fight with Ultron seriously. He had all the stones but didn't even really use them? He literally has the power to just stop/reverse time. He's an insanely smart AI, yet somehow he doesn't even think to create some sort of timeloop like Strange has in the past? That's literally just one of the stones, he had all of them! Seems really absurd that this team were able to do anything at all to Ultron, especially considering that the Watcher couldn't even beat him.
[9.5/10] If there has been one thing consistent about Aang from the beginning, it’s that he follows his own path. From the minute we met him and he was more interested in riding penguins than showing spiritual reserve, it was clear that this was an Avatar who did not fit the mold. There was a uniqueness to him, a purity, that belied the chosen one bearing he had to carry.
That’s what stands out in Avatar: The Last Airbender’s wide-ranging, epic, moving finale. More than the moral turmoil that Aang had experienced in the last few episodes, more than the massive battle between the forces of good and the comet-fueled Fire Nation, there is a young man, making a choice because it’s what feels right to him, what feels true, and it is that trust in himself, that commitment to being who he is, that sees him through.
What is almost as impressive about the final two episodes of A:tLA, which essentially constitute one massive climax for the whole series, is how they manage to give almost every notable figure in the series something meaningful and dramatic to do. The episode truly earns the epic quality of its final frame, whether it’s focusing on the Order of the White Lotus retaking Ba Sing Se; Sokka, Toph, and Suki trying to sabotage the Fire Nation air fleet; Zuko and Katara confronting Azula; or Aang having his showdown with Ozai. The combination of all these great battle, all these profound and grand moments, make for an endlessly thrilling, dramatic finish for this great series.
The siege of Ba Sing Se mostly serves as a series of fist pumps for the viewer, getting to watch these trained masters face their foes with ease. Like the rest of the episode, it shows off the visual virtuosity as the series pulls out all the stops for its final battle. Jeong Jeong redirects fire with awesome force. Bumi launches tanks like play things with his earthbending. Pakku washes away enemies with a might tidal wave, and Piando slides on the frozen path over the wall, slashing away at Fire Nation soldiers all the while.
And Iroh? Iroh breathes in the power of Sozin’s comet. He creates a fireball that bowls through the walls of the famed city. He burns away the Fire Nation banner that hangs over the palace. It is a sign that for as much as A:tLA is a story of the last generation letting down the next one, there are still members of the old guard there to fight for what’s right and make a stand for a better world.
That world is threatened by the Fire Nation Air Fleet. In truth, the cell-shaded CGI war balloons look a little dodgy. Something about the animation is a little too stilted, to where when the cinematography is cool, the computer-generated elements stick out like sore thumbs and hurt the immersion of the show. Nevertheless, there is something truly frightening about Ozai and company at the head of those ships, imbued with power by the comet, launching these fireballs and streams of flaming destruction down on the land below. It is a terrifying image that brings to mind footage from Vietnam of fire raining from above. As much as the cel-shading looks a little off, the imagery of the elemental powers used in the episode is awesome, in the original sense of the term, provoking terror and astonishment.
Thankfully we have our two favorite badass normal folks and the resident (and as far as we know) only metalbender to help destroy the fleet. It is a nice outing for Sokka, Toph, and Suki, who find a way to not only contribute to the great war effort, but to have moments of risk and drama where you wonder if they will make it out alive or not, featuring big damn hero moments for each of them.
It’s hard to even know where to begin. There is Toph launching the three of them onto the nearest ship, turning into a metal-coated knight, and neutralizing the command crew. There is the hilarious interlude where Sokka manages to lure the rank-and-file crewmen into the bombing bay with the promise of cakes and creams, with the lowly henchman making extremely funny small talk before being dumped in the bay. It’s nice that even in these heightened moments, the show has not forgotten its sense of humor.
But that humor quickly gives way to big risks and bravery from the trio. I appreciate that Sokka’s ingenuity gets one last chance to shine, when he’s inspired by Aang’s “air slice” and repositions the ship he’s piloting to cut through the rest of the fleet, downing as much of it as possible. That move, naturally, leads their vessel to go down itself, and the big escape separates him and Suki.
Still, Sokka and Toph are undeterred, and after some close shaves, Toph uses her metal-bending abilities to change the fin on another airship to send it into its neighbors. Again, it’s nice to see the show, even in this late hour, finding creative uses for its characters’ talents, which give each of them a chance to have a hand in saving the day. That includes Sokka and Toph finding themselves pursued by Fire Nation soldiers, and Sokka getting to use both his boomerang and his “space sword” one last time. And when despite having taken out their pursuers, it still looks like all is lost for the pair, there is Suki, having taken command of another airship, there to save them from their tenuous, dangling position.
It’s a superb series of sequences, one that manages to combine some incredible in-the-air action and combat with character moments that feel true to the people we’ve come to know over the course of the series. Toph still has her smart remarks; Suki still manages to be in the right place at the right time, and Sokka, far from shrinking from the moment as he feared after the invasion, employs the creative solutions to difficult problems that have become his trademark. It is a great tribute and final triumph for all three characters.
But they are not the only trio of Avatar characters who find themselves embroiled in combat on the day Sozin’s comet arrives. But far from the larger-than-life, heroic tones of the battle in the skies, the fight between Azula, Zuko, and Katara has an air of tragedy about it.
What’s impressive is how, so near the end of the series, A:tLA can make the audience feel for Azula, even as she is at her most deranged and dangerous. It is late in the day for a character study, and yet we delve into Azula’s broken psyche in a way that the show has only toyed with before. What’s revealed is scary, but also sad, the pained cries and last gasps of a young woman who never really had a chance, who was brought up by a tyrant like Ozai, rather than a kindly old man like Iroh, and it left her damaged and alone.
It also left her paranoid. One of the defining leitmotifs of Avatar: The Last Airbender is the way that Aang, despite being the chosen one, laden with a solitary destiny, has found strength in his connections to his friends, who sustain him in times of doubt and difficulty. The finale underscores the importance of that by contrasting how Azula alienates everything approaching an ally she has, and it leaves her not only vulnerable, but deeply suspicious, until she loses her grip on her own sanity.
That’s dramatized in the way she banishes a humble servant girl for daring to give her a cherry with a pit in it, in how she banishes the Dai Lee for fear that they will turn on her the way that she got them to turn on Long Feng, in her equally harsh banishment of her twin, elderly caretakers (or at least one of them), when they express concern for her well-being. Though Mai and Tai-Lee have only small roles to play in this episode, the force of their presence is felt in the way that their betrayal of Azula leads her to believe that everyone is a backstabber or turncoat in waiting, and that, poetically enough, becomes the source of her downfall, to where when the threat truly emerges, she has no one there to help and protect her.
And yet, that is not the deepest depth of her loneliness. In a particularly difficult moment, one where Azula has taken out her anger on her own hair, she sees an image of her mother in the mirror. It is a bridge too far, the ultimate pain that Azula has refused to confront, replaced with ambition and intimidation so as not to have to face it. But that vision represents a knowing part of Azula, one that understands how she’s succumbed to fear and paranoia, one that cannot help but feel the hurt of the belief that her own mother thinks she’s a monster, and one that knows despite that, her mother still loves her, something that makes that pain all the more unbearable.
It also makes her less capable, less focused, less ready to face her brother in a duel. Zuko sees the way that his sister is slipping, and is willing to face her alone in the hopes of sparing Katara since he believes he can win. Their fight is a beautiful and tragic one. The combination of Azula’s blue flame and Zuko’s red one echoes the red and blue dragons that reinvigorated Zuko and Aang’s firebending abilities, and which represented the conflicting sides of Zuko’s own psyche. The opposing forces swirl and twist in the field of battle.
But unlike the rest of the episode, this is not played as an epic confrontation. It is played as a moment of great sorrow. While the whirl of the fire blasts rings out and the structures around the siblings singe and crackle, wailing violins play. Azula cackles and cries out, her eyes wide, her smile crooked, her demeanor unhinged. Zuko is not simply conquering an enemy who has tormented him since he was a little boy; he is doing what he must do against someone who has everything, and yet has lost everything, including her mind.
That just makes Azula all the more dangerous, but that ends up making Zuko all the more noble. While Azula is wild and unsteady, Zuko is prepared, baiting his sister into trying to blast him with lightning in the hopes that he may redirect it and end this. Instead, Azula charges up her power and, at the last second, aims it a bystander Katara rather than her brother. The move throws off Zuko, and in the nick of time, he dives in front of the blast and absorbs the electricity to spare Katara. It is the last sign of his transformation, an indication of his willingness to sacrifice himself for one of the people he once attacked himself. It is a selfless gesture, and a desperate one, that shows how Zuko’s transformation is truly complete.
It also leaves Katara fighting a completely mad Azula all by herself. I must admit, I was mildly irked when Zuko cast Katara aside and intended to fight Azula solo, sidelining one of the show’s major figures, but I should have known better than to think the series would avoid giving her one of those vital moments of glory and bravery.
With a dearth of water in the Fire Kingdom capital, and Azula too crazed and unpredictable to fight straight up, Katara must also be creative. Her water blasts turn to steam against Azula’s electric fury. But Katara is as clever as she is talented, and in yet another inventive way to defeat the enemy, she lures Azula over a sewer grate where, just before Azula is able to launch a deadly attack, Katara raises the water and freezes the both of them in place.
Then, in a canny move, she nabs a nearby chain, uses her waterbending abilities to move through the ice, and confines her attacker so that she is incapable of doing any more damage. It is an imaginative way to end the fight, one that show’s Katara’s resourcefulness and gives her a much-deserved win. She heals Zuko, who has truly and fully earned her respect and admiration. Azula has only earned a bitter end – her manic screams devolve into sobs, the loss of so much, the crumbling security of who she was and what she was fading away, until all that is left is a pitiable, broken young woman.
Azula has been a one-note villain at points in the series, one whose evil seemed inborn and whose nature left her without some of the complexity that other figures in the series have possessed. But here, she becomes a tragic figure, one who has committed terrible deeds and who tries to commit more, but whose being raised to obtain power at all costs leaves her unable to enjoy or sustain the only thing she’s ever wanted, and utterly alone.
Aang, on the other hand, is trapped between two things that he wants very badly: to defeat Ozai in order to end this war and save the world, and also to avoid taking a life. Their confrontation lives up to the billing and hype it’s received over the course of the series. The mountainous range provides the perfect backdrop for their fight, with plenty of earth and water for Aang to summon as he combats the series’s big bad at a time when Ozai is infused with the tremendous power of the comet.
The two dart and dash across those jutting rocks, a furious ballet accented with mortal, elemental beauty. Ozai declares that Aang is weak, that he cannot defeat Ozai, particularly at the height of his powers, and despite the realization that this is not the kind of show where the hero fails in the final act, you fear for Aang, for what will be required of him in order to end this. This is, after all, not how this fight was supposed to happen. Aang was supposed to have mastered all four elements, to be Ozai’s equal, not a talented but inexperienced young upstart trying to best the man who has conquered the world.
So in a difficult moment, he retreats into a ball of rock that provides temporary but needed protection from Ozai’s assault. It calls to mind the big ball of ice that Aang retreated to a century ago, a safe haven when the weight of the world became too much for him, and he hid rather than rose to face it. It cements the possibility that Aang is not ready for this, that he was never ready for this, and for all the good intentions he may have, he will pay the ultimate price for that.
Instead, when Ozai penetrates the rock and sends Aang flying, he reaps more than he bargained for. The former Fire Lord’s blast shoots Aang into a nearby rock, and as a sharp point digs into the scar from where Azula nearly killed him at the end of Season 2, it triggers the Avatar state.
Aang emerges from the pile of rubble that the gloating Ozai approaches. Aang glows and speaks with a voice of thunder and fury. Ozai comes at the demigod with all his power but Aang slaps away his flaming blast with the back of his hand. The Avatar assembles the four elements, bringing them to bear against his opponent. He surrounds himself in a bubble of air; he summons earth, fire, and water in rings that surround him. He comes at Ozai with his full force, sending him reeling through rock and rubble, confining him with the land itself. Aang raises this swirl into a knife’s edge, driving it down into his prone opponent.
And then, once more, at the last minute, he stops. The whirl of elements turned into a lethal weapon evaporates into a harmless puddle. Aang stands, unable to do it. Even in the moment where he seems poised to fulfill his destiny, Aang cannot bring himself to snuff out a life in this world. It is against everything he believes in, everything he stands for. Ozai declares that even with all the power in the world, Aang is still weak, that his inability to do what must be done to his enemy renders him lesser.
It is then that Aang finds another way. He confines Ozai using the earth itself once more, rests his hands on Ozai’s persons, and begins to bend the energy itself. What ensues is a spiritual struggle, one that matches the confluence of red and blue that signified the two sides at war within Zuko. For a moment, it appears as though even in this, Ozai will triumph, that the red glowing embers that represent the cruel spirit of this awful man will overtake our hero. It’s rendered in beautiful hues, a burst of light erupting across a dark landscape.
But Aang is not to be overcome. The outpouring of pure blue light emanates from his body. He will not be moved, not be altered, not be changed. Instead, it is Ozai who falters, his ability to bend fire, his tool for committing all of this evil, is taken away from him. The threat is over; the war is done, and Aang has fulfilled his destiny, on his own terms.
There is release, a chance to reflect and take stock and enjoy the glow of having completed this difficult journey. Aang and Zuko speak to one another as Roku and Sozin once did – as friends. (Incidentally, the also confirm that the entire series took place within just a year, which seems kind of crazy.) They embrace, the two young men who were once bitter enemies now trusted allies. Mai and Tai Lee are released and seem to have new destinies themselves. Zuko credits The Avatar to a throng of people at his coronation as Fire Lord, and he is not surrounded by Fire Nation loyalists, but a balanced group of supporters from all nations, there to help rebuild the world. “The Phoenix King” promised to burn down the old world and make a new one from the ashes, and in a way, he has made good on his promise, albeit not in the way he intended.
There is such hope and catharsis in these last scenes. Aang is at peace, his mission complete, freed from the burden that created so much hardship over the past year. Zuko too is in a place of calm, having restored his honor and ascended to the throne, though not as the vicious ruler his father envisioned, but as the kind and noble man his uncle did, one ready to lead his people to a new era. After one hundred years of war and bloodshed, there is the hope that this new generation, one that has tried to cast off the scars and mistakes of the past, can make a new way forward.
We also get one last scene of Team Avatar as we knew them – simply enjoying one another’s company. Iroh plays music, the rest of the gang chats, and Sokka creates an embellished, mostly inaccurate drawing that he defends in his trademark way. This is a family – an unlikely one, filled with individuals collected from across the world from different backgrounds and temperament, but one that, through their shared vision and efforts and care for another, really did manage to save the world.
Aang gazes upon this scene lovingly as he walks out to see the new day and drink in the peace of his surroundings. Katara follows him, and in a wordless scene, with the glow of golden clouds behind them, the two embrace, and then kiss.
It’s the one scene in this finale that I do not care for. As I’ve said before, despite Aang’s crush, the chemistry between him and Katara always felt more friendly, even motherly, than romantic, a childlike crush Aang would need to one day move past than the trappings of true romantic love. It sends the series out on something of a false note, albeit one that the show has teased many times over the course of its run.
Still, it represents the larger idea of the episode – that even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aang chooses his own path, one true to who he is and what he believes. I’ve expressed my skepticism about his unwillingness to take Ozai’s life, but however foolhardy it may seem at times, it is a reflection of the young man who never seemed like the Avatar he was supposed to be, who instead, forged his own way. That way was often off-beat, confused, and at times, well-meaning but foolish, but it was always a moral one, and more to the point, one that reflected the unique attitudes of the young man who carried them.
He chose to run rather than be sent on his Avatar training. He chose to fight rather than sever his connection to the people he cared about. And he chose to find another way rather than violate his personal, ethical code against killing another human being. In the end, he became his own sort of Avatar, one that did not simply accede to the will of destiny or expectation and tradition but instead made his own way without sacrificing the purity of his spirit or his convictions. There is something admirable, something true in that, and it makes for a satisfying finish to this incredible series.
Avatar: The Last Airbender truly deserves that superlative. Though the series took some time to find its voice, eventually it would flesh out an incredible world, filled with well-developed characters, a deep, generational lore, and a core cast who grew more multi-dimensional and complex as it progressed. The show deserves to take its place among the great stories of chosen ones, the stellar, epic tales that offer hardship and hope, struggle and success, tragedy and triumph. With an attention to detail and character that made those larger-than-life events meaningful, it captures an amazing journey. The series is the story of a collection of young people, amid a war and a struggle they are not quite ready for, renewing the promises that this world can offer and discovering who they are in the process. In that, they returned harmony to the four nations, and to one another, and that’s what makes A:tLA so great.
[8.5/10] How would you build paradise? It’s something that seems more complicated than a sitcom can handle, but as I’ve said before, The Good Place isn’t an ordinary sitcom. The great thing about “Patty” is how it gives our heroes a taste of the thing they’ve been working toward for so long, shows us how it could actually be miserable, and then gives us a most unexpected solution to the problem that ties in with past events. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a masterstroke, but it’s definitely a pretty impressive feat for a show grappling with what it would really mean to live in paradise for eternity.
It’s also damn funny! I think The Good Place is the only show on television that can make me laugh with references to professional wrestling (that bedpan is a big deal) and references to classical philosophy (Chidi’s “neoplatonic” line was a hoot) in the same episode. The glassy-eyed denizens of paradise, blankly asking for things or describing their mundane lives was amusing. And the little details of The (real) Good Place were very funny. (I particularly liked the candies that allow you to perfectly understand Twin Peaks.) Throw in the joyful mishmash of our heroes’ favorite things in the party, and you have a real comic winner on your hands.
The episode keeps the comedy flowing while still tackling its thorny problem. It starts off letting our heroes enjoy some richly deserved rewards and fun after all they’ve been through. Chidi’s nerdy excitement at meeting “Patty”, Michael getting sworn in by The Good Place council, and Jason getting to go go-karting with monkeys are all fun bits.
But then the show slowly but surely lets you know something is off. Tahani’s conversation with one flat affect paradise-dweller is disconcerting. Janet’s interactions with another Good Janet (and low key disdain for the other Janet) are a worrying sign. And when Patty herself warns Chidi of the dangers of this place, things kick into another gear.
(As an aside, Lisa Kudrow is a nice get for Patty, and her ability to convey the “joy zombie” vibe while also convincingly discussing “word piles” is outstanding.)
It’s a bold stroke to suggest that eternal happiness would eventually becoming numbing. The idea that you can do anything, so eventually you do everything, and become bored and lifeless is another interesting, sort of existentialist take on Heaven. I really like the idea that the problem is infinity -- that eternal life makes it seem like you have nothing but time to fill, and that over time, that sense wears you down.
So it’s a strange but fitting solution that Eleanor comes up with -- you give people the freedom to die. The show dances around it nicely, but it ties back to the idea that the prospect of an end helps give existence meaning and purpose. Sure, it happens a little fast that everyone in The Good Place feels better, but it’s another bold idea, one that ably solves the problem the episode set up.
I don’t know. At the end of the day, I just like how much this show is saying something about morality and life and existence. I don’t always agree with every point or laugh at every joke or buy every argument. But it’s using the sitcom form to comment on grand, eternal questions and conundrums in a way that is usually funny, sometimes oversimplified, but also usually a bit profound too. “Patty” is a great example of that, where the show uses humor and its wild premise to make a big statement about what elements are necessary to make human beings truly happy and fulfilled. The joy, and the enemy, is time.
For any brave soul following my write-ups on here, I reviewed this episode and the last one as one big finale, so my thoughts on what happened in part 3 are in the entry for part 4.
When I saw the number of episodes, I was wondering how they'd be able to pace everything and expecting for it to be game after game, but they've come up with a lot of clever ideas that both expand the show, and give us just enough perspective on how things work on the inside. Plus, it makes sense that people would do crazy things to find out more about the place.
I also really love how quickly "making allies" is becoming a thing. 218's betrayal was ruthless, he remembered that shit the moment he looked at the symbols.
I'm glad that the show isn't just about the brutal games, and takes its time intelligently. No wonder it's a mega hit.
[9.5/10] Holy hell. This was incredible. I love that after A New Hope pulled a lot from classic Japanese films like Yojimbo and The Hidden Fortress, the franchise is coming full circle. Japanese artists are now translating the tropes of Star Wars back into a feudal Japan setting, and it could hardly be cooler.
The art here is just gorgeous. This is the most beautiful blend of 3D animation with 2D flourishes since Klaus. The choice to go black and white, with only electronic things like lightsabers, droid lights, and whistling birds appear in color creates a striking aesthetic. And the design choices are downright stunning, from straw-covered R2 units, to the force-sensitive combatants and their artistically-conceived hair and clothing, to vehicles, weapons, and whole species reimagined with an ancient Japanese flair.
The basic premise works just as well. The notion of a Sith warlord coming to harass a humble village, while a calm ronin springs into action to save the innocent from their oppressors, fits wonderfully into this new rendition of Star Wars. That’s no shock. Episode IV reinterpreted a number of standard ronin tropes into a space setting, and watching those tropes reabsorbed and remixed back into a feudal setting is a thrill.
The action here is top notch. This is one of the best lightsaber battles we’ve seen in ages, with stellar choices in the blocking, shot-selection, and choreography. I love the little choices like letting the “camera” focus on the Sith’s hood floating away in the wind while we only hear the sound of her clashing with the hero. There’s a real mood and atmosphere which adds to the epicness of the confrontation. Intensity in the pace, eye-catching poses, and clever shifts and ruses to get the upper hand all make this a stand out among Star Wars skirmishes.
I’m also a big fan of the texture to this one: little moments that don’t contribute that much to the fairly simple “story” but which add color and intrigue to the world the characters inhabit. A ten-year-old being the chief because his dad’s asleep or ran-off, the hunched tea-maker fixing the droid, the bounty hunters fighting back against the Sith are all little details, but make this world feel more alive and lived-in beyond the immediate story.
On the whole, this is one hell of a coming out party for Star Wars: Visions. I’ll confess, I’m not much of an anime afficionado. But “The Duel” is enough for even a relative neophyte like me to sit up and take notice.
While the episode was entertaining, it clearly shows a change in writing that does not fit the Black Mirror style at all. It's as if Netflix doesn't understand what the show is about. Where are the questions? Where is the unease?
They could have gone with the same idea in a different order and it would have felt more like Black Mirror: start off with the hologram, then throw in the doll, and slowly uncover what's behind it all and how messed up it is. Same story, different order, classic Black Mirror feel.
Jesse is really hitting rock bottom, I feel bad for him. I get he's a drug addict and whatnot, but as far as everything else other than that, he's not that bad of a person. Walter on the other hand, is a complete asshole to Jesse and it's only getting worse. I like how there's still somewhat of a friendship or whatever you'd call it between them, as proven when he let him into his house and still gave Jesse the money after their fight.
[7.1/10] Pick an ending, am I right? First it’s having to remove the soul stone from Mega-Ultron. Then it’s removing all the stones. Then it’s getting them in the infinity smasher. Then it’s using Hawkeye’s Zola arrow on Ultron. Then it’s Zola and Killmonger having an uber showdown. Then it’s Cosmic Dr. Strange trapping them in a pocket universe. Then it’s The Watcher having planned it all this way from the beginning.
It’s a little exhausting, making it feel like we didn’t really build to any of this, but rather, it just happened by fiat. The best you can say is that The Watcher picked these folks knowing the progression and so saw the parts they would play, but it’s not especially clear how and why this was the necessary path or that these were the necessary people to walk it.
(As an aside, why Gamora? I know there was one episode of What If? that didn’t get made because of COVID and other timing constraints. Was it hers?)
Still, some of the interactions are fun. Thor-as-Sterling-Archer is still a hoot, and his happy-go-lucky dopeyness around the other “Guardians of the Multiverse” made me laugh. I also loved the bond between Captain Carter and Black Widow. Captain America: The Winter Soldier is one of the MCU’s better films, and I wouldn’t want to trade it, but this finale definitely made me want to see more adventures of Peggy and Natasha as a team.
And there’s some solid emotional stuff here. Cosmic Strange getting a little redemption after his early mishap is a nice beat. The stinger with Captain Carter getting to see her lost love again much as Steve did is a nice touch too. And I like Black Widow returning to the Avengers-less timeline from episode 3, finding a new home and place to belong, with that being the abiding moral of the series. The overall themes and character beats work well.
It’s just the big climactic battle -- which in fairness, is most of the episode -- that falls flat for me. There’s some cool visual moments, mostly in the way of Cosmic Dr. Strange channeling the dark forces with some multicolored splendor and turns into a tentacle monster. For the most part, though, it’s just a bunch of undifferentiated fireworks and fisticuffs without even the imaginative fun of The Watcher and Ultron’s smash-tour through the multiverse. It wasn’t bad by any means, but nothing we haven’t seen before, without any new twists or wrinkles to set it apart despite the advantages of working in an animated medium.
Overall, I still enjoyed What If? quite a bit as an entertaining lark. The anthology format is a good one for a comic book universe, and several of the remixes were inventive and clever. It’s just the attempt to put them all together, and leave several of the stories unfinished so that they could be concluded in the grand finale, that I’d count as a misfire.
[8.7/10] I’m not sure I’ve seen a show re-pilot so successfully before. The way this episode told and retold all the events of Version 2 of The (Faux) Good Place from so many different perspectives was masterful, and helped give us continuing insight into how each of the characters work.
I was particularly impressed at the branching narrative of the episode, which took care to use the same basic events to springboard from one character’s story to another, and reveal their inner “themness” even when pointed in a different direction.
It’s particularly neat how Michael calculated to make each new situation even more miserable than they were in the last simulation. Eleanor has to give speeches and face the guilt of being crowned (well, sashed) as “best person.” Indecisive Chidi has to deal with the incredible difficulty of choosing his soulmate, and then has to deal with the fomo and regret of likely ending up with the wrong person. Tahani has to deal with difficulties that are frivolous, but nevertheless bother her, making her upset about things she shouldn’t be upset about like the size of her house or the height of her soulmate or the having to wear cargo shorts, and torturing her even further because she can’t reasonably complain about them. And Jason, who enjoys being able to be his real self in his “bud hole” has to live with a complimentary baby sitter there to ensure he lives the quiet life.
It reveals Michael’s, and the show’s, great understanding of these characters, knowing exactly how to twist the screws on them in creative ways that really seize on the things that will truly bother them.
It’s also really interesting getting to see behind the curtain of the demigods/demons/whatever in charge of the torturing. The fact that Michael is on his last chance here, and risks “retirement” if he fails, creates stakes for him as a character too, and the fact that he tries to slip the fact that he failed under the rug in front of his boss produces a ticking time bomb that will no doubt go off halfway through the season.
It’s also fun seeing the “actors” struggle with their parts. Real Eleanor (whose real name, I think, is Vicky) being perturbed at how she’s been demoted in the narrative, going so far as to create a limp and a backstory is amusing. Details like the bearded guy being so interested in biting, or Eleanor’s “soulmate” constantly going to the gym, or other folks just not understanding why they can’t resort to regular torture gives Michael the beleaguered middle manager vibe trying to wrangle all his unruly employees, which is an amusing look. The overall comedy for the show even seems to have improved.
Plus, the episode is propelled by Eleanor’s discovery of her note and attempt to piece the mystery together. I have to say I’m impressed that the show didn’t use the note and the investigation to fuel the second season as a whole. But turning it into a quick turnaround case-solve for Eleanor just creates more possibilities going forward. Joss Whedon is known to have said “play your cards early, it makes you come up with more cards,” and with this sort of virtuoso episode, I’m excited to see what new cards The Good Place comes up with in its second season.
[8.5/10] I’m assuredly overrating this one because of the reveal, but to put it in Shyamalan terms, what a twist!
What’s great about the fact that our heroes are, and have been, in The Bad Place this whole time is that it recontextualizes everything we’ve seen in a reasonably believable way. Sitcoms are founded on conflict, and we, the audience at home, had every reason to believe the glitches in the system were just part and parcel of the usual sitcom necessity of having some conflict to motivate the action.
But “Michael’s Gambit” turns metatext into text, revealing that the character conflicts and frustrations that the main characters have been through is not merely an incidental result of some unexpected error, but rather a deliberate attempt from the architects (in some ways, a stand-in for the show’s writers) to make the characters torture one another.
It adds a creative spin on everything we’ve seen so far. (Though I do wonder if, on rewatch, everything holds up to scrutiny.) I particularly love the conclusion that despite the consequentialist good she did, Tahani’s efforts weren’t enough to get her into the real Good Place because her motives were corrupt, and that Chidi’s obsessive morality and indecision led to him hurting everyone close to him. That helps us to see these seemingly enlightened characters in a different light, which is what good writing does.
Some of the initial business where the gang is debating who should take the two slots to The Bad Place is a bit tedious, both because the logic used is pretty weak and it retreads some of the feeble love triangle stuff from before, but where it leads is outstanding.
I particularly love the idea that the Bad Place architects, and Michael in particular, are going out on a limb with this. The notion of finding new and creative ways to torture people, and trying to come up with a perfect vicious cycle with these four people completely redoes the show’s premise and gives it tons of interesting new places to go.
In addition, it provides a promising reset for Season 2. Eleanor’s own gambit is a clever one, and I’m excited to see how it all shakes out.
Overall, the laughs weren’t as strong as I might have liked, but this is a brilliant twist that I absolutely did not see coming, so the show gets points for a genuine surprise that makes me see the prior twelve episodes differently.
(And hey, let’s throw out some additional wild speculation while we’re at it. Maybe in this afterlife, people don’t get sent to hell to be punished necessarily, but to be given the chance to improve and earn themselves a place in Heaven. Each time, our heroes get the chance to be a little better and get a little closer to eternal reward. Granted, I totally whiffed on the twist here, so take my predictions with a grain of salt, but still, throwing it out there anyway!)
[9.7/10] This episode clearly deserves a longer review, but what I’ll say for now is this:
This may the best parody of anything ever. That’s bold talk, I know, but there’s just such genius in how Harmon and company distill down the tropes and quirks of the Ken Burns-style Civil War documentary and meld it with the insane world of Greendale. The talking heads, the text messages as letters, the sound design over still images, it’s all just perfect. The show captures the rhythms of those documentaries perfectly, in a way that elevates the homage even if you’re not intimately familiar with the source material. There’s a specificity to everything that really works.
And while four characters get most of the spotlight, it’s a nice outing for the rest of the cast too. Shirley is great as one of Troy’s lieutenants, and her descriptions of the battles is a comic highlight. Pierce’s staypuft-esque pillow weapon is a neat way to integrate him into the episode. Chang’s “interns” being enlisted as kids who know nothing but pillow fighting is a fun conceit. And Britta’s blurry, poorly framed photos are a laugh every time.
But what elevates this episode above Community’s other fantastic parodies is that it uses these events for pathos and meaning, not just for comedy. There’s something inherently absurd, and yet so true to form, about Troy and Abed having this massive bedding war. The show plays around with their usual shtick, but also goes to some real places though.
My favorite of these is the intercepted/exchanged letters. Abed’s description of Troy’s fears is funny, but you get why it hurts. And their later exchange -- “You weren’t supposed to see that”/”You weren’t supposed to think those things” -- feels true to real fights between friends. Troy’s response is just as cutting, telling Abed that no one else will have Troy’s patience with him, playing on Abed’s own insecurities in a remark intended only to hurt. There’s a truth to the way that fights between friends are the most painful, because by the very act of friendship, you’ve made yourself vulnerable to someone, and there are few things that sting as badly as someone using those vulnerabilities against you.
What I forgot about “Pillows and Blankets” is how good Jeff’s arc here is. I’d remembered the silly emoji-laden conversation with Annie, and his “it really summed it all up” ending, but I’d forgotten that he has his own journey here. It’s about him deciding to use his words not just to benefit himself, but to do good in the world, or at least for two people he cares about. As is often the dynamic on the show, Annie gives him the moral disapproval and nudge that motivates him to make the change, and it culminates in something outstanding. Cool, detached, self-serving Jeff not only plays along with the “imaginary best friend” hats, but uses his speechifying skills to bring Troy and Abed back together, to do something selfless. It’s some of his most meaningful growth in the whole series.
Of course, it’s wonderful to have Troy and Abed reunite in that fashion. It’s pretty plain, even for a bold show like Community, that they weren’t going to break up arguably the show’s best duo forever, war or no war. But having their friendship on the line in this skirmish, and having them continue to whack each other with pillows so that friendship never has to end, is a way to thread the needle between Ken Burns style “futility of war” missives and the heart that exists between these two lovable weirdos who don’t want to let one another go, even if it means extending their fight to accomplish that. It’s a nice note to go out on, one that deftly puts an end to their feud while staying true to what started it and who these characters are.
(And as an aside, the closing pledge drive mini-skit is a delight to anyone who’s watched a regular array of PBS.)
This is truly one of Community’s high water marks, a mix of parody and character stories and high concept arcs brought together to make something hilarious but touching all the same. Greendale’s Civil War becomes the Civil War, realized in the goofiness, pain, and sincerity of affection between two young men who need one another more than they need to set a record, or stand by their principles, or to win.
[7.5/10] I like the solution to the problem. That counts for a lot. Being convinced, if not exactly persuaded, by the group’s perspective on a new version of the afterlife is a pretty big achievement for The Good Place. The show had its work cut out for it when the powers that be decided they needed to replace the afterlife point system.
I’ll be honest that I don’t necessarily buy it. But you know what? That doesn't really matter. I like it, because it works as the culmination of everyone’s experiences. This group got rebooted time again, they got a second chance to improve themselves and become better people, and they use that experience as a model to help others do the same. Tying it to Janet’s experience is the icing on the cake. The notion that she’s been through this too, in her own way, and come out a more complex and understanding not-a-person is superb. Plus, Eleanor treating the “vague memory” of what happened pre-reboot as the equivalent to a “voice in your head” is a nice callback to her own experience.
Whether or not this system would actually work or be fair or anything like that as a real moral philosophy is beside the point. It’s functions nicely as the combination of what our heroes have learned, and I like it for that.
The problem is that this is basically one big ten-minute explainer. The show does its best to spice it up with the usual array of gags and with a cameo from Timothy Olyphant (a great bit, incidentally.) But the truth is that a lot of this episode is just stress testing a philosophical idea. I am 100% down for that! But it doesn't necessarily make for riveting television.
That said, there’s still a lot of fun to be had in this episode. The Judge and Janet going through the different Janet voids is a real treat. (I was particularly a fan of Disco Janet’s void.) Sean screwing with our heroes and wrecking little glass sculptures is a lot of fun, and again, Olyphant does a great job as the “guy without a dog in this fight” who nevertheless questions the plan. And Tahani’s gags about being unable to pull off the “mod look” got a laugh out of me.
There’s also some nice character moments. I like the brief bit of time the show takes to check in on Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship. Eleanor understanding justice and Chidi finding that hot is super cute. Chidi no longer being indecisive once he’s experienced 800 lives and possibilities is great. And the way the two are so matter of fact and “coolsville” about saying “I love you” is really nicely done.
The episode even does a good job of dealing with the process part of things. There’s a decent laugh to The Good Place crew agreeing to the plan without even hearing it and capitulating without getting anything in return from Sean. And I like the explanation that Sean will agree to this because he likes fighting with the good guys, that it’s fun in a way the trillionth corkscrew of an eyeball isn’t, and that his letting Michael’s original neighborhood go through was a sign that Sean knew the current system wasn’t working. “You’ve Changed, Man” does its homework, you have to give it that.
The catch is that I just walked away a little unmoved. While the proceedings are a little rushed, on the whole this is a well-built episode of television, that hits a lot of nice beats for its characters, and finds a satisfying answer to the major problem it set out. I just found myself saying “That’s nice” or “That’s clever” much more than I felt myself buying into the episode or losing myself in what it was doing.
That’s no sin, but for a show so wild and often heartfelt, a good part of this one felt academic. Still, there’s four more episodes for The Good Place to build on this, and I have high hopes for the finish!
An important episode in all and a lesson that things aren't aways black and white when it comes to dealing with emotional pain. It would have been easy for the show to have Katara forgive her mother's killer and be carry some monk-like message about peace and love. Though she didn't kill him in the end, she didn't forgive him either, it was an important step in highlighting how complex things like this really are.
Also if it wasn't obvious by the events thus far, this really underpinned just how powerful a bender Katara really is. Absolutely incredible.
Now I understand exactly why they did the Aang and Zuko origin stories the episode before this. It was so Zuko and Aang could work together in this episode. Aang says he thinks he and Zuko could have been friends, but that statement isn't as moving to the audience without having been told the story of Zuko's scar from Iroh's perspective.
The Blue Spirit and the Airbender- one of the coolest fighting scenes.
Yeah, it's alright.
It tries to hit the same beats as "The First Avenger," but it's nowhere near as good. The fast pace is a nice change from the slow burn of the recent MCU series, and the art style is BEAUTIFUL when it's static but a little ugly in motion. The characters seem to be 3D, but the effects are 2D, so it's nice to see that Spider-Verse left an impact on the animation industry. The montage had terrible music and was worse than "The First Avenger," in my opinion—I prefer that one all the way!
Although I will say, I don't buy Peggy and Steve's romance because these characters are different multiverse versions, so the emotional beats don't land. I also didn't feel anything when Steve "died," so that's a bummer. Otherwise, I appreciate the background art during the credits, and I think this show is a nice distraction. Also, there's a scene where Captain Carter saved people—yes!
It's a solid half-hour of entertainment!
SCORE: 6/10
[8.5/10] What I like about speculative fiction and other imaginative stories is that so often, they’re better at getting to the human condition than their down-to-earth brethren. The Good Place is a high concept story about people trapped in the afterlife with champagne-bringing ants and magically appearing and exploding motorcycles and impossible spa days. But it’s also about self-improvement and feeling useful and dealing with complicated, sometimes unfair emotions, something this series can capture in a way that’s much harder without the sort of bizarre setups at play.
That’s why my favorite story in this one is Eleanor’s. I found myself spending much of the episode asking -- why is Eleanor so dead set on stressing out Chidi. It seemed to come from a good place (no pun intended) of believing that he needs to be put into pressure-filled situations to bring out the best and most “help your fellow man” ethical in him, but she seemed to be going overboard for reasons that were opaque to me.
The episode lays it out explicitly -- she did it because she’s angry at Chidi, angry at him for leaving her and getting to enjoy this blissful new life in paradise, even though she knows he did it for a good reason and that the current bliss is not his fault. But not only is she dealing with these complex emotions; she’s had the person who she would go to deal with them ripped away from her, which just makes her all the more frustrated, on top of her guilt for feeling that way. It’s a complicated cocktail of conflicted feelings, one that are so achingly human, and hard to articulate without the handles of mind-wipes and out there magical scenarios.
But they’re also somehow truer and more affecting that way. The turn in the episode is Eleanor breaking down when she realizes what she’s putting the man she loves through. It’s a great performance from Kristen Bell, and it’s what help makes her sympathetic here. It ends in a great pep talk from Michael, one of understanding and empathy, and it ultimately helps us understand Eleanor, and what she’s going through as a person, much better. Truly great.
On top of that, it’s just a funny episode. Chidi and Jason is a pairing we don’t get especially often, and so the dynamic of Jason’s general recklessness and impulsiveness mixed with Chidi’s usual anxiety and cautiousness leads to a lot of great comedy between the two. Chidi trying to cover for and restrain Jason is a laugh every time. And Jason by himself is superb here, between his thinking every time someone needs his help, it must be to open a jar, and his repeat motorcycle explosion.
But the B-story is nearly as good. I like Tahani’s plot and epiphany here especially. Her efforts to ply John with the exclusive celebrity treatment he was denied in life make for some amusing back and forth between them. But when she tries to turn their friendship and pivot toward self-improvement, he’s resistant. The great thing about that is 1. John has an unexpectedly legitimate point that while she was living it up with fortune and fame, he worked his behind off (albeit in a kind of shady industry) to build something on his own, and 2. Tahani is right that despite being on opposite ends of the spectrum, they were both made unhappy by their obsession with fame and exclusivity.
The result is a little tidy, but I like Tahani reaching John through her understanding that obsession with status leaves you lonely and unfulfilled. And while it’s a little convenient, that being the thing that spurs John to apologize for his mean comments is a nice touch. Plus I love Janet as Tahani’s supportive girlfriend.
Overall, this is The Good Place at its best, taking the fantastical and ridiculous and finding the real, human truth underneath it, that’s harder to uncover in more staid circumstances.
Meh. Quite the collection of overdone cliches:
-- It's a crime drama, about a family!
-- The eldest is in charge, but is not the brightest so covers it up with bellicosity. That combination can't possibly lead to trouble.
-- Our protagonist is ambitious, ruthless, and smart. That combination can't possibly lead to trouble.
-- The youngest is dumb and violent. That combination can't possibly lead to trouble.
-- Fortunately, they're surrounded by good women, if only the boys will listen to their wisdom.
-- It's got a beautiful woman, but she's on the side of the law. Oh no! Surely she won't fall for the haunted bad boy.
-- The saintly friend wants nothing to do with the family's evil ways. I'm sure he won't be pulled in.
-- The copper sent to stop them is just as ruthless as they are. What nuanced levels of morality!
-- It's set in olden days so it can be "gritty" and "edgy" with it's violence.
All in all, I liked it better when it was called Ripper Street. I'll watch more, but only because my brother recommended it. If it ends up good, great for me. If it ends up bad, I can berate my brother for his poor taste. Also great for me.
[8.6/10] I have to admit, I am a complete sucker for this sort of thing. I love the novelty of a television show or movie reinterpreting its own story as though it’s a story being told in-Universe. From C-3PO recounting the events of Star Wars to the Ewoks in Return of the Jedi to Arya Stark watching a stage play of the events of Game of Thrones, there’s just something about a story exploring how stories distort and reimagine and reshape real events and people for the sake of poetic license that really works for me.
And it worked for me here! For one thing, I love how meta this whole damn episode is. It’s not the sort of thing you can do too often, or your story becomes a little too much of an ouroboros, but once in a while, it’s a delightful opportunity for comedic reflection. (Though Community made a cottage industry out of it.) I laughed out loud at Sokka talking about the play as the sort of “time-wasting crap” he misses. I really enjoyed the touch that the poster for the show mirrors the cover of the AtLA DVDs. Even just the show being split up into three acts, or Suki noting that Teem Avatar gets beaten a lot, was a nice, self-reflective touch.
I also love the craft of the way the episode turns its story into a stage play. Having Aang be played by a woman on stage, Peter Pan-style, is an inspired move. The attention to detail in how bending was portrayed on the stage – with colorful ribbons and other stagecraft, was very creative. And most importantly, it worked as both a parody of Avatar’s story, of theater conventions, and the way that real events become exaggerated when committed to fiction.
That comes through most in how all of the show’s protagonists are caricatured in the stage version of their lives. Sokka as a guy who cannot stop making meat jokes, Katara as someone who’s always crying and making speeches about hope, and Zuko as someone constantly talking about his honor are mighty fine one-note parodies of our heroes. The dialogue and delivery of the show is hilarious, and it provides a nice opportunity for AtLA to make fun of itself, but also to have its characters make fun of each other, with Toph in particular saying there’s a lot of truth on that stage.
That feeds into the way that the show, cartoonish and outsized though it may be, feeds into everyone’s insecurities about who they are and how others see them. The silliest of these in Sokka crying at the story of Princess Yuweh. It’s a broad moment where she’s talking about having eaten pickled herring, but the magnitude of that event still affects Sokka.
The most heartening of them is Zuko regretting the way he betrayed his Uncle Iroh. As silly as the two are portrayed here, it has enough of a ring of truth that it serves as a reminder to Zuko of one of this greatest regrets. He’s still tortured by what he did, and it’s a nice way to show that even silly or inaccurate art can move us or affect us when it touches on something sensitive in our pasts or personalities. But I love the way Toph reassures him that by staking out his own path and joining Team Avatar, Zuko has redeemed himself with his Uncle even if he doesn’t know it. It calls back nicely to Toph’s conversation with Iroh, and her “sign of affection” for Zuko after telling him that he was all Iroh talked about is a sweet moment all around.
The trickiest of them was Aang being upset by the depiction of Katara and Zuko as romantic in the stage show, with stage-Katara talking about Aang as being nothing more than a little brother. It plays into his concern that he is not masculine enough and that his crush does not see him as anything more than a little kid.
As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not big on the Aang-Katara shipping business. I never really felt the chemistry between them (save for the moment in the titular Secret Tunnel) and as much as I enjoy the relationship between the two characters, it never really scanned as a believably romantic one, which makes all the teasing and agonizing over Aang’s crush on Katara kind of dull to me.
On the other hand, there’s a realness in their scene together outside the theater. Whether or not they make sense, there’s truth in a young kid having a crush on an older girl and worrying that he is not seen as mature or manly enough to cut the muster. (Hell, it happened with me and my wife!) Aang’s pain and frustration at caring for Katara and his distress when it’s not clear that she returns his feelings, feelings he blocked his charka for, are sympathetic.
But so are Katara’s, who very reasonably says that there are much bigger things going on right now than their romantic feelings, and that she is unsure of how she feels. The heightened environment of being on the brink of war and conflict, is not always the best environment to find your true feelings. As much as the last episode set at ember island devolved into overwrought Dawson’s Creek-style teen angst, this felt realer and believably awkward and painful for both Aang and Katara.
And yet for as funny an episode as this is, and as much as it leans into the character’s feelings about themselves and others, the end turns to the greater task at hand. The depiction of Azula slaying Zuko, and Ozai killing The Avatar, are clearly disquieting to the Aang Gang. The theme of the evening has been the way that even this exaggerated show reflects a truth that can unnerve our heroes. Seeing visions of their own failures and deaths is just as worrisome, evincing a fear that the future these men and women on stage are depicting will have as much truth of the real world in it. It’s a chilling reminder of the magnitude of what’s to come, and the threats that lie ahead. Art, as Shakespeare put it, holds up a mirror to nature, and sometimes the reality of what it reflects can rattle us, in the best and worst ways.
God Toph is so badass I love her
This show has so many great women
that animation my dude
THAT ANIMATION IS LIT AF
Oh. Yes. Sir. One can never have enough Reigen in any episode. Fact. And now, my body is riddy for the final episode. This is my favorite portion of the buildup to the final confrontation where everything turns to pure awesomeness in the finale. Bring it on, Mob.
the game was so dramatic and i love it
