dgw

VIP

10

Pros
+The Flashbacks/background info added a lot of bridge information while still adding to the plot at hand (including the full introduction of the information broker aspect of the business)
+The Man in Black reconnecting with one old friend and being cheated by another
+Dolores seems to actually have some sort of plan
+The action was all fine as well

Cons
-Dolores is literally saying the same thing over and over "I'LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR WHAT U DUNNN................................ to robots that can be repaired, reprogrammed and shouldn't be able to remember anything past a few hours......."

Great episode and the flashbacks particularly added much to the story. Far better than the first one this season. I'm scared this show is going to become extremely monotonous and boring throughout this season. The first season was so great because we saw this interesting and thorough dissection of how our ideal dreams and world are selfish and have consequences to everyone else if we were unleashed and allowed to do whatever we wanted, this season it seems completely fixated on this revenge aspect. I understand that they want to show the extent of the pain caused to other but at the same time, the audience already understands this pretty well. The writing for Dolores has been the same, scene to scene and when you make a character monotonous and boring the audience will lose compassion for her. Dolores was amazing in season 1 because of the range she showcased, hopefully they will allow the same for her this season.

The return of Brad Dourif once again means that he completely steals the show. I sort of wish that his character could have been involved more across episodes, but I also wonder if it would have been a case of having too much of a good thing.

This is a decent end for the second season with a pretty enjoyable cliffhanger. It's a shame that it brings back the terrible Kazon because they weaken everything. Additionally, Seska has now become very cartoony and lacks any menace (and why has she still not reverted back to full Cardassian after all this time?). I don't really see how the Kazon are constantly able to outsmart Voyager given how disparate they are, and how unintelligent they continually prove themselves to be.

The baby plot is a bit stupid, and I don't think Janeway would have made any of the same decisions if the child belonged to a low ranking ensign or lieutenant that wasn't a part of the senior staff. Her job is to get these people home, not make dangerous diversions at every opportunity. It's a prime example of why I have problems with this show at the most fundamental level.

But for character moments, this mostly delivers. Stranding the crew on a barren and hostile planet is really interesting, and Janeway steps up to take command of her people. The main crew all work together quite nicely. Really, though, it's the quiet and powerful moments with Janeway, Tuvok and Lon Suder that make the episode for me.

A worthy conclusion to the 2-parter, probably more satisfying that the opening episode. Again, Brad Dourif acts circles around everyone else and makes it look effortless (the contrast between his and the terrible Kazon performances is startling). Superb scenes of him grappling with his reality and conflicted feelings add so much depth to the proceedings, and I actually felt some emotion at his passing. There's a lot of fun to be had with the Doctor's scenes and the stuff on the planet manages to have some exciting parts (the cave monster, ooh).

Losing Hogan did actually have an impact since he's made quite a few appearances throughout the show, but it does bug me a bit that the main characters are always safe. That was just the nature of 1990s episodic television, I guess, but on Voyager it stands out as dishonest.

In some way, this episode feels like the entirety of Star Trek: Voyager condensed down: the crew are stranded in a hostile and unknown place, and within moments of arriving they manage to piss off the local inhabitants (seriously, this crew are ridiculous for this). Crew members die along the way as they make mistakes and learn about the environment they've come into. New dangers appear each more terrible than the last, but the crew manage to work and overcome them. New friends are made.. Eventually it's all sorted out and they get back to where they originally started with all of the main characters present and accounted for.

I feel like things were wrapped up a little too quickly in the end. Suder's noble death is given the briefest of mentions as Tuvok gives him a one-sentence goodbye. Seska dies (why? Nobody else died from the same thing) and Chakotay just covers her up and that's that. We're denied a proper resolution between her and the Voyager crew, not a good decision.

Also, the sudden revelation that the baby is not actually Chakotay's doesn't make any sense and is a really badly botched writing job.

I'm hoping that this is an end to the Kazon storyline, even though Maje Cullah and his son live to fight another day. There could have been some really interesting stuff done with Seska, so it's a shame that she was the one to die.

For once in my life, I'm gonna be as brief as I can because otherwise I would be writing hours and hours talking about this show.

First thing, when I thought Abernathy's actor couldn't surprise me more, he does. His acting is superb and no one plays a malfunctioning robot as good as he does.

Dolores is such a badass but her lines are starting to become a little repetitive. I just feel for Teddy so damn much. I get the feeling that Teddy is us. Just look at his face, he's got a constant "Wtf?" written on it. I think he'll turn against Dolores in the near future. So far, his narrative is to follow Dolores and do as she pleases; however, he also has to kill Wyatt and something tells me he's gonna go the second road.

Maeve, Hector, Armistice, Felix and Sylvester. The gang is back together. I'm loving Sizemore more and more. I didn't know that was possible but it is. So Hector is a version of who he wanted to be? Interesting.

The first scene was amazing. A godamn tiger! Poor girl. When she appeared, I thought she could be William's daughter, Emily, if memory serves. Let's see how it evolves.

The Ghost Nation is back! I wonder where Elsie is. She was captured by them. Since they caught that girl and they wanted Sizemore, I'm starting to think that Elsie somehow reprogrammed them to save the guests from the robots.

I missed Ed Harris in this one. But next week we've got Shogun world and I can't be more exited.

Also, did Bernard just insert all Abernathy's data into himself? Charlotte is growing on me more and more, I hope the trend continues because I want to see more of Tessa Thompson.

[7.6/10] Best episode of the show so far, which, granted, is only three episodes old at this point, but still! This is one where both the A-story and the B-story definitely worked and had some interesting intersections.

I’m enjoying how the flashbacks are being used on the show, both to display amusing bits of Eleanor’s prior life, but also to shine a light on her behavior on the future. The notion that she has trouble making lasting friendship because people who seem “better” than her makes her insecure is a strong one. And dramatizing it through a socially-conscious ex boyfriend in the past, and the seemingly perfect Tahani in the present is a good choice.

Having Eleanor witness Tahani crying and vulnerable over being unable to connect with Jianyu is a good way to break the spell and form a genuine friendship between the two, allowing Eleanor to help move past her issues.

The B-story is good too. I like the idea that as good as Chidi is, he’s also timid and indecisive, leading him to eschew ever pushing outside his comfort zone. Deciding that he does want to work on his manuscript (with a nice bit of help from Eleanor) and picking Michael as his advisor, is a nice bit of self-determination and growth that doesn’t feel out of character. Plus, Janet trying on different programming/personae on for size was an amusing bit of comic relief.

Overall, the strongest the show’s been thus far.

[6.1/10] I have to admit, the show is starting to feel formulaic even as it’s moving the ball forward, and I’m getting a bit tired of the repetition. The show is overly didactic when it comes to the theme of Eleanor not being a joiner or willing to be a part of a group vs. here when she realizes that Chidi & co. like her and want to be on her team. It’s a sweet enough idea, but the show is just too blunt about it to land.

The B-story, with Tahani trying to teach Michael to grow a backbone and stand-up to the reps from The Bad Place similarly ends on a strong note, but fills the coffers with some pretty feeble comedy and tepid storytelling when getting there. The badness of the bad guys is a little too over the top to be funny.

That is, of course, except for Adam Scott, who is just perfect at playing this sleazeball. It’s a complete 180 from his character on Parks and Rec or Party Down. Plus, new Eleanor is Sabine from Star Wars Rebels, which I appreciate, and her instant nerd chemistry with Chidi is certainly cute.

Overall, this one just didn’t click with me. I’m beginning to catch on to the show’s rhythms, and the humor wasn’t strong enough to cover for that in this one.

[7.7/10] I’ll say this for The Good Place. I like that they’re basically running through all the love triangle permutations now rather than dragging them out unnecessarily. I’ll admit, I don’t exactly buy the possibility of Fake Eleanor and Chidi together, or Fake Eleanor being in love with Chidi, but I do buy it as a spur of the moment feeling that, with some reflection, she realizes isn’t real. (I’m less sold on the idea that Tahani and Chidi aren’t soulmates, because that seems like a better possibility.)

Still, I’ll say this for that part of the story -- it leads to the best thing in the episode, namely Fake Eleanor and Tahani hanging out together. The two characters have a fun dynamic, and watching them check out a BBC sitcom or put in hair extensions or snark at Jason and Janet’s wedding is a treat.

Heck, I even liked the Jason and Janet shtick. There’s something about someone who’s a complete dolt “falling in love” with someone who’s barely sentient but nevertheless nice to him that is weird but oddly sweet. The pair’s vows, entrance music, and little dance together are all absolutely charming even if it’s a semi-bizarre bit.

The only part of the episode that didn’t really work for me is Chidi’s indecision. I like the approach, showing Chidi’s paralyzed by choice, but it’s done in such a cartoony, over the top way that it’s hard to be too invested in his growth over the course of the episode. That said, his best friend knowing him well enough to do a “fake wedding day” test, and Chidi literally being killed by his indecision is a decent bit.

Overall, lots of laughs and good energy to this one, particularly the funny and endearing Tahani/Fake Eleanor portions and the strange Jason/Janet stuff.

[7.3/10] One of the things I like about kids movies these days is that they tend to be pretty clear about what the characters want and how that drives the story. I’m sure there’s some selection bias there, with plenty of kid-focused dreck that doesn't make it onto my radar. But one of the benefits of aiming at the kid audience is that films almost have to be clearer about motivation and its connection to story or you risk losing attention and understanding. Sometimes, that leads to overly telegraphed plot points or predictable story arcs, but in others, it adds a sense of clarity and character to children’s entertainment that wide swaths of adult-focused films lack.

Ralph Breaks the Internet is the (nigh-literal) poster child for that idea. In a series of enjoyable opening clips, the film establishes that candy-coated racer Vanellope is tired of the predictability of life in the arcade, and is thirsting for the new, different, and unknown. Ralph, on the other hand, things the steady life of work, root beer, and especially hanging out with his best friend is paradise, is everything he could ever want. So when Vanellope yearns for something more, he’s helpful and supportive, but doesn't really get it and wonders why his friendship isn’t enough to sate her.

Naturally, things go haywire from there. Some track-based improvisation leads to a broken gaming wheel in the real world, sending Ralph and Vanellope into the internet in an effort to find a replacement. They meet new characters and face new challenges and explore the ever-expanding, bustling realm of the world wide web. But every choice the movie, and more importantly the characters, make is driven by their friendship, and those two conflicting impulses and concerns that Ralph Breaks the Internet sets up in its first ten minutes.

What’s interesting is that despite being set there, and theoretically expanding the reach of this franchise, the film isn’t really about the internet. Sure, there’s plenty of glancing observations about silly things going viral or the toxicity of comment sections. But for the most part, the web is just an energetic backdrop for a story about two friends who care deeply about one another but need different things in order to feel fulfilled. The tale Ralph Breaks the Internet tells fits that within its cyberspace setting, but the Internet is merely the object of Vanellope’s impulse to experience a wider, woolier world, and Ralph’s reluctance in the shadow of its dizzying diversity, rather than the true subject of the film.

That’s not to say that Ralph Breaks the Internet fails to make the most of that setting. While fans of Tron or even the inevitably revived ReBoot are familiar with the inner workings of cyberspace being depicted as some sort of bustling city, this movie kicks that idea up a notch. The web as a sprawling metropolis, with website skyscrapers and user milling around as little avatars, is a fun, high energy backdrop for all the misadventures of our heroes. Spammers and pop-ups are treated like carnival barkers, sites themselves are fun houses or factories, and viruses and the “dark web” are the seedy underbelly of the bustling burg. The tropes are familiar, but the execution is a visual feast, creatively done.

Thankfully, the gratuitous corporate synergy comes in small, concentrated doses rather than overwhelming the story and setup this film is trying to impart. There’s cameos from Marvel and Star Wars characters and conspicuous House of Mouse-style mash-ups of different worlds and properties. And yes, as the trailer promised, there is an all-star team-up of Disney princesses, who chat with Vanellope and lend a bit of aid when the moment calls for it, with a new ode from Alan Menken to boot. There’s meta gags galore and a few winks at the standard princess tropes, but it’s all punchy and funny enough that it’s always pleasing and rarely veers to the level of indulgence.

The problems with the movie instead lie in how it rushes and sitcom-ifies the conflict between Vanellope and Ralph. There’s legitimate tension to be had in how Vanellope is drawn to Shank, the leader of a hardscrabble racing squad in a Grand Theft Auto-meets-Twisted Metal game called “Slaughter Race” that’s captured Vanellope’s imagination, and how insecure Ralph feels over that. But Ralph Breaks the Internet dramatizes that with a cliché “one character speaks frankly without knowing that another character is listening in” setup, and underlines in with a device that literally reproduces Ralph’s “insecurity” in destructive fashion.

At the same time, the movie bends over backwards to prevent either party from seeing the bad guy. That’s not a bad tack in principle. Both Ralph and Vanellope are genuinely well-meaning but are capable of hurting each other due to their divergent wants from life. But the movie needs conflict and action, and so retreats from having Ralph doing anything genuinely bad or ill-intentioned, instead incessantly underscoring the fact that he doesn't mean any harm when his actions come close to doing real harm to his best friend. That takes the juice out of the confrontation between confidantes the film wants to draw out, and weakens the overall conflict.

The inevitable third act action sequence exists in an odd space between inventive and rote. The final challenge involves an Oogie-Boogie esque threat who’s creatively animated in every frame, but who’s too blunt as a personification of Ralph’s worries and whose defeat drifts into hand-holding as to the message of the film and a solid snootful of fan service to boot. The film thrives and delights when it features Ralph and Vanellope capering through cyberspace, but falter when it has to bring the burgeoning friction between them to a head.

Still, the film’s message is a laudable one, which settles on accepting that the people you care about can want other things in life to make them feel fulfilled, without diminishing the closeness of your friendship. At times, its efforts to convey that message verge on the contrived or the overblown. But at its core, Ralph Breaks the Internet commits to the idea of what its two main characters want, and amid the wonder and pitfalls of the world wide web, plays that idea out in a way that vindicates who they are and what drives them. The film boasts fun online observations and vaguely self-satisfied but self-effacing Disney jibes, while ultimately coming down on the side of a character-focused story.

It can’t top Ralph and Vanellope’s first outing, and stumbles a bit as those character clashes are forced to turn into the mandatory uptempo thrillride all tentpole movies have to have these days, but Ralph Breaks the Internet whose who they are and what they want, comedicaly and dramatically, which keeps the movie enjoyable and on track, even amid the online flurry the film steeps itself in.

[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. The best part of this one is Lily and Marshall's conversation at the end, which feels very real and earnest and heartbreaking for the way that both of them are open wounds at this point. There's an undercurrent of real emotion even amidst the more outsized gags on the show, and it's a formula that really works for HIMYM.

As for the main stories, it was a nice way to integrate Lily back into the show, even if it feels a little quick, but the necessities of sitcom status quo demand it, so I'm willing to go along with it. I have less disdain for Lily this go-round, if only because the idea that she wanted to find herself a bit doesn't seem as crazy as Ted makes it out to be, even if she handled it poorly. Still, the ending with her and Marshall seems to take that into account, which makes it work.

And the Barney and Marshall storyline is mostly a chance for silly fun. I think I remember the ultimate twist to all this (unless I'm thinking of something else) which colored my view of the proceedings a bit, but it's still fun to see Barney pumping up Marshall's confidence only to swoop in and steal the spoils of war.

6.6/10. You’ve seen Hidden Figures before. Maybe you haven’t seen this exact movie -- about how three unduly unheralded African American women helped NASA in the early 1960s -- but if, like me, you dutifully watch many, if not most, of the Oscar-nominated films each year, then within ten minutes, you’ll already know this movie by heart.

It features a gutsy but unorthodox protagonist trying to make a dent in a system that marginalizes and ignores her. It’s a period piece, with enough obvious dialogue, signs, and cameos from well-known historical figures to let you know exactly when the story is taking place with plenty of opportunity for the viewer to say, “My, how far we’ve come.” It has supporting characters facing challenges that mirror the protagonist’s, shining more light on the ways in which the order of the day affected those who were quietly fighting to maintain their place in it, and maybe even change it. And it has the untold story/historical injustice angle that’s supposed to imbue it with an extra bit of triumph and tragedy, all unleashed with a heavy dose of Hollywood mythmaking.

The difference, and the thing that distinguishes Hidden Figures from the likes of The Imitation Game, Dallas Buyers Club, and other recent Oscar nominees that play in the same space is that it uses the power of that formula in support of a woman of color. At a time when the world of film is still lingering in the shadow of the #OscarsSoWhite controversy, it’s encouraging that Taraji P. Henson can be cast as the star of a movie that follows the Academy Award film blueprint and succeed at the box office in the process. It’s just a shame that the film’s artistic merit doesn’t match its social merit.

Don’t get me wrong; Hidden Figures is a well-made film. It chugs along at a good clip -- telling the story of one brilliant mathematician’s contributions to NASA at a time when someone of her race and gender had to work twice as hard to make it half as far -- in a tight, if predictable manner. It sprinkles in the subplots about her compatriots nicely, allowing them to work well as breaks from the main narrative that still feed into it. The acting on display is solid-to-good all around. It’s impeccably shot, framed, and edited, with colors that leap off the screen and composition that emphasizes the loneliness, bustle, or intimacy of a given setting. And it can boast a jam-worthy soundtrack that fits the movie’s big moments, but which would be worth listening to apart even outside the theater.

But good lord is it full of every hoary trope from every awards season film you’ve ever seen. The film runs through a litany of standard, predictable beats, telegraphing each one along the way. The good guys overcome the heavily-underlined obstacles in their way. They stand up to thinly-drawn, ineffectual antagonists. They offering cutting, cheesy one-liners after finding their footing.

The film provides an opportunity for Henson to give a Big Damn Speech, and for Kevin Costner to give a Big Damn Speech, and for Janelle Monáe to give a Big Damn Speech (which is, surprisingly, the best written and performed of the three). There is a one-dimensional love interest (Mahershala Ali, whose talents are squandered here) whose only true defining characteristic is that he likes the protagonist. And in the end, there are the expected measured but clear victories, culminating in a big historical event and a “where are they now” text-on-screen closing.

Even the canny little moments of repetition and subversion -- the protagonist being handed a piece of chalk, symbolizing opportunity, by her supervisor the same way she as a child in the classroom; or one of her white colleagues having to hustle across the NASA campus to find her rather than the other way around -- feel like a page torn out of the usual awards-bait playbook. The only times when the film transcends this are when it puts its three leads -- Henson, Monáe, and Octavia Spencer (who manages to make a lot out of a little here) -- together. It’s in these moments that they seem like real human beings finding solace in one another and navigating an environment where the deck is stacked against them, rather than mascots for another rote bout of silver screen “triumph over adversity” heartstring-pulling.

Hidden Figures does the good work of telling the world about the trailblazing achievements of Katherine G. Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan, and Mary Jackson, but it does a disservice to these women’s stories to reduce them to the usual prestige pablum, and it doesn’t have to be this way.

It’s laudable that Hollywood is using its hagiographic abilities on women of color who deserve to be widely known, but even the Awards season fare of the recent past shows that it can do better. The superlative Selma looked like a bog-standard Great Man biopic, and instead treated its historical giant of a central figure with a humanizing gaze that made Martin Luther King Jr., his movement, and his struggle feel more real than all the usual tinseltown gloss and lionizing tone could. The Best Picture-winning Twelve Years a Slave suffers from a small bit of the same white savior syndrome that afflicted the execrable The Help, but it was raw and uncompromising, putting the ugliness of the prejudices faced by its protagonist on display in a way that didn’t reduce them to petty hurdles our heroes would inevitably hop over. These vital stories can be told without sacrificing artistry or giving into the cliches of typical Oscar fare.

But maybe that’s the best thing to say about Hidden Figures. Every awards season is going to feature a certain quotient of this type of film. Every year sees a new crop of competently-made, not particularly inspired movies that deal with Important Things, typically from The Long Long Ago. If this is inevitable, if the awards circuit is continually going to honor films that hit these same notes over and over again, then the least we can do is use this generic form in service of people whose stories deserve to be told, and who are all too often, as the movie’s title portends, left on the cutting room floor.

This isn't a bad movie, but I also don't think it's particularly great either. The performances all around were good, save for maybe Kirsten Dunst who seemed to be trying a little too hard to be unlikable as a supervisor. The story was intriguing enough to make it all the way to the end of the movie, but I really feel like this story deserved a lot better, especially regarding the importance of these three women in our history.

The editing felt really off at several points, cutting to other shots far too frequently when it didn't need to. The music used also felt extremely out of place, especially for a period piece like this. Pharrell Williams shouldn't have been involved with this, with special regards to the song Runnin' which not only was overused but also completely unnecessary in trying to force a comedic tone when it didn't need to. They should've used more music from the time period the movie was set in.

I don't feel like I wasted my time watching this, but I wish there was more care put into this. I seriously don't get why it had so much Oscar attention, especially when compared to the nominees it was right next to.

[6.4/10] The Good Place is getting a little too simplistic and didactic for my tastes here. The premise of the A-story is a good one -- Michael is an immortal being and so has never had to really consider morality because he’s never truly had to face the concept of death. So when he is facing the real prospect of “retirement,” at Chidi’s urging, he has a breakdown. That leads to some great comic acting from Ted Danson as his face practically melts with anguish and he curls up into a ball on Eleanor’s lap. It’s a heady thing to play for comic notes, but it works.

Buy then the show gets really broad and obvious about it. Having Michael shift from “existential crisis” to “mid-life crisis” is a clever enough twist, but the episode goes really cheesy with the humor, and it doesn’t land. At the same time, the flashbacks with Eleanor learning about death from her crappy mom have some decent laughs in them, but their message is too blunt. Eleanor considers how damaging ignoring your bad feelings about death is given the source, and then delivers an aesop to Michael about it. It’s too neat and too easy.

The B-story is solid, until the end. I like the idea that Tahani knows she’s intended to be “tortured” by having her great party be upstaged by one the demons are throwing, but that the realization that she still can’t beat them in party planning nevertheless bothers her. It’s an interesting opportunity for Tahani to have some self-reflection, and Jason offering her some comfort and support in his typically dim-witted way is sweet.

But man, having them sleep together feels like such a standard sitcom move. Not every instance of someone being nice to a member of the opposite sex needs to lead to romance. And it comes off like the show needing something for Tahani and Jason to do while bigger plot stuff is going on in the rest of the show. I’m not a fan of that choice, to state the obvious, though maybe I’m just salty because I was oddly compelled by last season’s Jason/Janet pairing.

Overall, one of the more standard-to-cornball episodes of the show thus far.

[6.3/10] I walked away from Ready Player One the movie feeling the same way I did about Ready Player One the book -- that this a stellar premise wasted on a mediocre-at-best story. The idea of a worldwide, all-consuming online gaming sphere, like World of Warcraft or Second Life taken to the extreme, is fertile ground for social commentary and storytelling. Even with middling execution, you can’t get away from the power of themes about identity online, the effects of screen time, what it means to know and connect with someone, and cultural tastes in lieu of personality. You also can’t get away from the thrills of a digital world where anything is possible with the right imagination.

But Ready Player One manages to stumble over these ideas time and time again, when it’s not smacking the audience in the face with them. At base, the movie is fine as a disposable adventure, one to put on while folding laundry and glance up at when something exciting is happening. But its action is flashy yet forgettable, and it seems to think it’s making grand statements about life and friendship when it only offers the most trite, bargain basement observations about humanity and how we relate to and interact with one another.

Some of those flaws come from the source material. The hackneyed “evil corporate guys want to turn our free online playhouse into an ad-scattered cash machine” conflict is right there in the manual. The thinly sketched-characters who are more quirk and wish-fulfillment than fully-realized human beings is a fault on the page as well as on the screen. And the rudimentary, teenage boy view of awesome that colors every choice and development in the story is true of the novel as well. Original author Ernest Cline worked on the screenplay here too, and unfortunately, it shows.

But the film manages to correct a few things from the novel. While there’s still problems of insta-love and barreling through plot points, the script from Cline and superhero screenplay scribe Zak Penn changes the structure of the story for the better. In-person meetings happen earlier. There’s role reversals for certain captures and rescues which makes Parzival less of an all-consuming protagonist. And despite an exhaustingly lengthy and overstuffed third act, many of the quests and story beats are streamlined or reimagined to both make them more suitable for the medium and cut out some of the fat.

Still, even with Spielberg behind the camera, Ready Player One can’t avoid feeling like a missed opportunity. It’s a boatload of characters who are either rote or underdeveloped, of clichés and truisms played as novel and profound, and of nominally thrilling action that ends up feeling static an hour into the film. Spielberg knows how to hold the tension in a scene, and every payoff has a setup, which boosts some of the film’s weaker moments. But between villainous corporate hacks and generic good guy kids, there’s just nothing to latch onto here.

Thankfully, the movie manages to sidestep at least some of the novel’s reference-heavy bent (or relegate it to the background) and fanboy fetishism. And yet, at the end of the day, it’s probably the thing I unexpectedly wanted more of. While the book was overly awash in pop cultural shout outs that clogged the story, the movie only feels alive and different when it’s borrowing the power of seeing The Iron Giant in flight again, or transporting our heroes into a classic horror movie. The latter sequence is the highlight of the film, embracing the crossover fun that the premise promises, but using it to advance the story and the characters. Strip away cameos from Freddy Krueger and Van Halen tunes, and all you have is a standard issue adventure story without much to distinguish it.

Despite the structural changes made by Cline and Penn, Ready Player One still feels overstuffed, rushed, and contrived in several places. The movie wants the viewers to see the “High Five” (its team of heroes) as special and uniquely devoted to the cause of dethroning the evil empire. It shows them understanding the clues and life of their benefactor who set out the film’s great quest in a way that their rigid corporate antagonists don’t. But the solutions to his problems often seem overly simple or too obvious not to have been discovered before by the thousand monkeys at a thousand laptops trying to do so. Heroes succeed and villains stumble more because the plot needs them to than because of any genuine insight or hubris.

There’s also the film’s aesthetic, which is a bit cold and antiseptic, but which can at least be excused for being set in a virtual fantasyland. There’s a certain amount of prequel-itis here with the digital overload, but that’s arguably a bug, not a feature, even if none of the character or world designs are especially memorable. One expects better in a Spielberg joint, but there’s at least some high-intensity thrills to be had, even if they end up feeling fairly empty in the final tally.

That’s my biggest problem with Ready Player One. At the end of the day, it just feels empty. The romantic tension between its two leads is stock and tired. The friendship between Parzival and Aech is underfed, and our heroes’ success in the main adventure seems preordained rather than earned, without enough twists to make the inevitable interesting.

At times, Spielberg & Co. seem to know how deeply silly this whole enterprise is and wink at the audience, occasionally verging into satire in the vein of Starship Trooper. It’s these occasions where the film is its most enjoyable. But in others, it seems painfully sincere about a story, character, and theme that have all the gravity and substance of saltwater taffy. The film’s message of valuing friendship and real world interactions beyond the glow of online escapism is laudable enough, but shallow and dissonant when plastered into the movie’s cinematic theme park ride. Ready Player One is empty calories, and not even especially tasty ones, that are delivered with the message that the viewer should go on a diet. It’s not outright bad by any stretch of the imagination, but you can’t help but wonder how the great ideas bubbling around in this mishmashed bag of Halloween candy could be put to better use.

[5.8/10] Oh god we’re doing space AIDS. And to make matters worse, it’s in a quasi-sequel to the episode where T’Pol was de facto raped, and the show didn’t know how to handle it. Suffice it to say, we’re in for some tough sledding here, folks.

“Stigma” reveals that T’Pol is suffering from “Pa’nar Syndrome”, a degenerative, and potentially fatal disease that Dr. Phlox can’t cure. The Vulcans refuse to help, because the disease can only be contracted by mind melding, and Vulcan society has a, say it with me, stigma, against the minority who engages in such uncondoned practices. They would rather turn their backs on people who are dying than to implicitly vindicate such deviance.

Do you get it? Do you get it? To be honest I never know what to do with these sorts of episodes. Some of the best episodes of Star Trek, and the best science fiction stories in general, have used the emotional distance that comes from speculative fiction to tackle contemporary social problems. And despite how ham-fisted the racism metaphor of The Original Series’s “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” was, apparently large swaths of the audience didn’t understand it at the time, so maybe some shouting and obvious signposting is necessary.

But it’s hard to watch “Stigma” and not roll your eyes at how transparent and self-righteous the whole thing is. Enterprise has a message, and by god, you are going to hear it! As I said about “Fusion”, this show just isn’t really equpped to handle a topic like someone contracting a fatal disease after being sexually assaulted, even if it’s caked with layers of metaphor. Beyond the troubling implications of Archer again white knighting for her rather than letting her make her own, the show just seems so loud and blunt in trying to use its story to comment on the plight of the gay community and those with AIDS.

The other side of the coin is that maybe that’s an easy criticism to level in 2019, where companies are tripping over themselves to celebrate Pride, and AIDS is, while still used as a basis for fear and ostracism in many places, much more understood and accepted than it was twenty years ago. It’s hard for me to treat Enterprise as “of its time” like I do with the 1960s series, since I’m old enough to remember the 2000s series’s debut. But society’s treatment of homosexuality and AIDS has changed a great deal since this episode aired, and I’d do well to remember that before I slate “Stigma” too harshly.

That’s the thing -- Enterprise’s heart is in the right place. However thin the analogy may be, the series is right to call out real life unethical indifference to a fatal disease just because it’s transmitted by a group of people, and through a practice, that American society disapproved of. As facepalm-worthy as Archer’s speech about eliminating bigotry is, or the mind-melding Vulcan’s spirited defense of allowing for different kinds of intimacy is, or the final cornball dialogue about inspiring people to speak out is, these are all laudable aims, even if they’re executed with all the grace of a Klingon in a tutu.

What adds to the problem of Enterprise’s attempt to do a Very Special Episode is the fact that they include a wacky, comic relief B-story in between the “space minorities are mistreated and it’s wrong!” bloviating done with deadly seriousness. That alone would be a bad move tonally. But what’s odd is that in an episode about treating different forms of love and intimacy with acceptance, the humor of the B-story basically comes from Trip feeling awkward about Dr. Phlox and his wife’s polyamorous relationship.

And yet, I laughed, so I suppose I don’t have a right to complain! I think the best analogy I could use to explain the subplot to people is “What if, in an episode of Frasier, Frasier and Lillith not-so-subtly invited Roz to a threesome.” That’s the bizarre sort of broad comic energy this has. It works though! Connor Trineer in particular does a great job at facial expressions and reactions to make his discomfort at Mrs. Phlox’s come-ons and Dr. Phlox’s encouragement funny. Though it’s worth considering how different this comic setup would feel if it were, say, a male alien continually hectoring Hoshi despite her obvious discomfort with the situation.

Either way, it’s an odd fit for the gravity with which Enterprise treats its A-story. The progression of events is predictable, with T’Pol being reluctant to ask for help, the Vulcans being their usually snooty disdainful selves about the situation, leading to a stand-off between our heroes and their uptight antagonists that ends in big speeches and a preservation of the status quo.

The one interesting wrinkle is this -- T’Pol refuses to disclose the fact that she only contracted this disease because she was attacked to the council that’s passing judgment and recalling her to Vulcan, even though it would (and eventually does) help her avoid that result. She chooses not to tell them because she doesn't want special treatment, or to be the beneficiary of a double standard, simply because she’s not a member the mind-melding minority that the Vulcan establishment so disdains.

There’s something potent there -- a refusal to take privilege when you might otherwise benefit from it, in the name of not reinforcing an unfair system you despise. There’s also some juice to the fact that one of the doctors on that council is a closeted mind-melder, who has to balance his desire to help his kind with his desire not to be shunned by a society that has no tolerance for the way he was born. Again, Enterprise is overly direct and didactic on both of these fronts, but there’s more depth to each of these parts of the stories than the dumbed down “bigotry is bad!” sentiment that otherwise pervades the rest of the episode.

“Stigma” wasn’t made for me, though. It wasn’t meant for people in 2019 who already accept that gay people have a right to live and love as they please, and that America’s response to the AIDS crisis was awful. It was meant to sway the hearts and minds of people in 2003 who might not have seen the issue that way, or thought of it at all, if it weren’t delivered through the lens of some of their favorite science fiction characters. It’s hard to know if an outing this blunt and transparent really swayed people. But however much an episode like “Stigma” fails as storytelling, if changed just one person’s mind, it’s still a social good.

The first season of Kim's Convenience starts like a college production of Korean Simpsons. Uneven but generally solid performances, clever but unpolished writing, and low rent production value. Coupled with almost offensive amount of Konglish, I was ready to bail.

Then, something happened after a couple of episodes. Kim's family started to become more real and endearing. Performances were no longer caricature but nuanced and realistic.

It would be easy to characterize Appa (Mr. Kim) as Homer Simpsons. But underneath his rotund, prideful, stubborn exterior lies an immigrant who cares deeply for his family (including his estranged son). He may appear to be a stereotypical Korean immigrant dad, but he's a lot more than that.

Umma (Mrs. Kim) also initially appears to be a stereotypical Korean mom, placing too much weight on what other people think. But we see that she's conflicted, who understand the flaws in her upbringings, evolving to place greater value in her family's happiness and well being.

Their kids, Jung and Janet, are likewise flawed, but they are good kids with many great qualities that would make any parents proud. Surrounded by amazing supporting characters (Shannon and Gerald are stand outs), the first seasons ends with big potentials and lots of hearts.

I look forward to the second season.

[5.6/10] For me, the greatest sin of a television show is wasted potential. Some episodes are liable to be great. Some episodes are liable to be terrible. A good many more will vary between “fine” and “pretty good.” As I’ve exhaustively detailed on this website, there’s a ton of reasons for that, some of which are understandable and some of which are maddening. But the most frustrating thing when taking in a story of any stripe, is feeling like somebody had a great idea, or great premise, or sniffed greatness, but then left some of the best possibilities on the table.

“The Crossing” leaves more than the best possibilities on the table. It leaves most of the possibilities on the table. The prospect of non-corporeal beings, touring the human body as a vessel of choice through meatspace, is a thrilling one. As “Return to Tomorrow” from The Original Series showed us, the notion of what beings without bodies do once returned to them can be an illuminating experience for the characters and the audience alike.

But Enterprise dispenses with all of that for a rote pod people story. Instead of any philosophical exploration of what it means to encounter a new form of life or the costs of their form of existence versus ours, “The Crossing” does a cheap spin on a horror tale, with Stepford Smilers and “who’ll be brainwashed next?” questions that don’t amount to much beyond some bargain basement scares.

That wouldn’t be so bad if the show’s would be ghost story were any good. As much as I enjoy Star Trek’s more philosophical side, there’s nothing wrong with just telling a simple, creepy tale in the confines of a spaceship. The problem is that the invasion of the “wisps” is pretty dull, and doesn't make much sense.

Most good stories that involve the supernatural (or the “may as well be supernatural”) have rules for how things have to operate. These rules take the nigh-magical and not only ground it in something the audience can relate to, but make the characters earn their success (or failure) in dealing with it. Here, the rules are all so opaque and nonsensical that it’s hard to invest in any of the problems or solutions.

Are you unsure whether or not a fellow crewman is inhabited by a wisp? Well that’s no problem, because Dr. Phlox just invented a wisp detector! Are you running from a being that can go through walls (which, in fairness, are the episode’s best sequences)? Don’t worry about it! These things that the sensors can’t even really detect are repelled by the alloy in the catwalk for some reason! Is a third of your crew infested with these beings who might have evil intentions? That’s fine! We can just gas them out of the ship without any ill effects to the human beings they’re inhabiting! What about that massive alien ship that you can’t outrun and which is so technologically advanced that it takes over all of your systems? Just blow it up!

I’m used to easy Treknobabble solutions to what ought to be thorny problems, and I’m not a nitpicker, but “The Crossing” takes the cake. It stacks arbitrary implausibility on top of arbitrary implausibility until you wonder if the writers even began to think this whole situation through. I’ll concede that there’s something clever about T’Pol using her psychic abilities and disciplined mind to discern the wisps’ plan after one tries to take her over. But for the most part, the episode introduces a series a big, difficult problem and then comes up with all sorts of convenient answers that don’t pass the smell test.

Some of this would be more tolerable if the episode didn’t feel like it was stretching to fit the required runtime. My compliment for the last episode was that it knew how to evolve its central problem to create new challenges for our heroes to overcome. “The Crossing” does nearly the opposite, giving us the gist of the problem early on and then letting us watch Archer and company tread water for most the episode before figuring out how to solve it. In the meantime, we get a bunch of lifeless scenes of Archer yelling generic missives at his wisp-possessed crewmen and, bafflingly, multiple silly fight scenes starring Dr. Phlox: action star.

The episode also tosses in some weird sexual harassment material with the wisp who possesses Malcolm which is, dare I say, problematic. Either it’s meant to be a source of menace, in which case it feels cheap and especially galling for the show to try to pull that crap using T’Pol as the victim again. Or it’s meant as comedy, which may be even worse. There’s something interesting about a non-corporeal being experiencing sexual curiosity and desire, without understanding human mores, but Enterprise doesn't have the skill to explore that fraught material with any grace or nuance, and the whole thing comes off as uncomfortable for other reasons than what the show seems to be going for.

That’s the cinch to all of “The Crossing.” There’s grand metaphysical questions at play about what it’s like for a being without a body to suddenly find itself able to talk and eat and feel again, and for a human to suddenly experience the world through a different lens. There’s grand ethical questions about whether it’s right for a wisp to do this, and how much leeway to give a species that’s long removed from issues of bodily autonomy. And there’s compelling moral dilemmas about a group of dying lifeforms seeking salvation and how we measure their lives against ours.

But Enterprise just blows them up, literally and figuratively. Gone are the engrossing questions of different forms of life, and in comes a procedural horror story that’s rife with boring interludes and quick fixes. When the series had the chance to tell us a story about the famed “new life and new civilizations” from the once-famous, now-jettisoned intro, it gave us a mostly-fine but uninspired possession story that barely bothered to graze any of the imaginative qualities and curiosity that made Star Trek great.

I can handle bad Star Trek episodes. Hell, I love some of them. What I truly don’t like are episodes like this, that feel like they waste something great to settle for something less.

[7.5/10] “The Harvest” takes a number of pages out of the George Romero zombie playbook, and it’s an appropriate tack for the second installment of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead and its progeny were nominally amount the creeping monsters who used to be your friends and loved ones and the boilerplate horror of them attacking, but they were also stand-ins for any number of real life issues. Racism, consumerism, militarism, and much more were addressed through those reanimated corpses. It fits, then, that BtVS embraces its cinematic forebear in doing the same with its own set of undead villains.

To the point, the Real Life Problem™ this week is Buffy having to sneak out of school and then her house because of parents and school adminstrators alike worrying about her falling back into trouble. In lieu of genuine bad behavior, the actions that get Buffy crosswise with her assorted authority figures, whether it’s the principal or her mom, are her slaying duties. But it still has the tone of the rebellious teen surreptitiously getting out of the house to go down the local hangout.

That “supernatural as a stand-in for the real issue” setup works with the more literal call outs to Night of the Living Dead as well. The sequence in the sewers pays direct homage, with Buffy and Xander trying to hold the door up against grasping hands, and a mob of lurching creatures emerging around every corner to flush them out. It allows Whedon & company to create an appropriately tense atmosphere and action set piece in the show’s early going, with the vampire creating the same creeping sense of dread while they advance on our heroes that their zombie counterparts do.

But “The Harvest” also addresses one of the oldest and yet most salient tropes in the zombie genre – the notion of something you have to kill that still resembles someone you care about. Xander’s struggles when facing Jesse, and Giles’s warning that the scoobies are not fighting their friend, but rather “the thing that killed him” play in the emotional difficulty of having to take out a creature that, however much you rationally tell yourself is evil, still looks and sounds like your old buddy. The episode wrings a bit of power out of that, and it sets up something important for Xander.

As the painfully written and acted scene where the newly-dubbed Angel gives Buffy some tips portends, BtVS will play around with the idea of “good vampires,” or at least less-bad vampires running around. But Xander is always the slowest to adjust, the most likely to resist accepting them or helping them. While there’s rational reasons for that – even the best vampires in the show’s universe have killed and can be unpredictable – in retrospect it feels like an emotional response to this first killing. Xander is pained and upset that these creatures took his friend; he’s angry that they not only turned someone he cared about into another monster but that they made it so that he was a snack to his old buddy and had to kill him himself. Xander harbors a resentment for that which rarely, if ever, seems to leave him.

Jesse’s turn in the episode also plays in that “real issues brought to life with monsters” space. His transition is a dark-edged version of the Teen Wolf movie (which, in hindsight, seemed to represent the tone the director of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie was going for, over Whedon’s objections). Jesse suddenly has the confidence to go after Cordelia in earnest after being consistently rebuffed by her, and despite some pushback, she actually seems receptive to the new him. There’s some semi-uncomfortable commentary there, draped in nice guy vs. alpha male rhetoric, but maybe it’s just a critique of Cordelia who’s not exactly put up as a laudable person to woo here.

His turn also plays on one of the things “The Harvest” and BtVS does best, which would quickly set the show apart from its brethren – subversion and surprise. It’s easy to forget it when you know how the episode goes, but the twist that Buffy and Xander think they’ve rescued Jesse, only to discover that he’s been turned and leading them to a trap, is a nice little reversal that catches the audience off guard.

By the same token, Buffy’s confrontation with Luke at the bronze uses some generic genre action beats. The villain takes over, monologues for a little bit, only to be upended by a quip from the good guy, and a scuffle ensues. But it’s the shape that scuffle takes that makes it novel and interesting. Buffy faking out Luke by exposing him to “sunlight,” only to distract him enough with the ruse to take him out the old fashioned way, is a clever way to end the fight, and shows the inventive bent Whedon & Co. take to classics and clichés.

The nuts and bolts of the episode are a microcosm of the things the show had figured out and the things it was still nailing down. It’s impressive how well-formed the dynamic among Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Giles is already. Their banter in the library is, perhaps, off a half-step or so, but very recognizable and amusing. The world-building and description of the hellmouth are a little rote, but offer a solid enough setup for The Master and the events to come, which fit into a “here’s the ancient problem, now let’s find a solution” blueprint the show would return to repeatedly.

On the other hand, the show can’t always escape the orbit of its clichés and sillier bits. The scene with Cordelia and Willow in the computer lab is pure 80s teen comedy material. The same goes for most scenes featuring Cordelia and Angel, the former sounding a little too stereotypical in her takedowns of Buffy (to Harmony!) and the latter still generally unable to act his way out of a paper bag. And The Master is a mixed bag himself. Sometimes his friendly malevolence suggests the show laying the groundwork for a certain big bad yet to come, but sometimes he hams it up with bad puns that recall a maligned scene from the recent Rogue One film.

Still, in just its second outing, BtVS is much more assured and confident than in the pilot. Borrowing from the greats like Romero, whether its in direct references, familiar tropes, or the general spirit of genre-as-subtext, helps boost the episode and give it more focus and potency. There’s still growing pains, but “The Harvest” is a good introduction to what the show could do well, if not the best realization of its potential.

I can't believe there are no comments on this film. I had plans as soon as I saw the ad for this film to see it. That's like 6 or 7 months. It never came to australia until the korean film festival then it was cancelled due to a system fault (lmao). If you went to the lengths I did to try and see this film youd know it was ultimate irony.

Luckily I managed to be able to see this soon after the festival ended. This movie is about a girl with autism who has witnessed a crime committed in the house across the road the actress is the same one who plays the youngest reaper in Along With The Gods and this has really showcased her ability as an actress and I am so touched she took on this role despite how Korea may treat people with disabilities. I honestly feel this was such a good film with a really empathetic view towards people with autism.

As it goes, Sunho, Miran's defence lawyer initially befriends Jiwoo in order to understand her disability and to use it as leverage in his defence. This blindsided Jiwoos family and shatters their trust of him. Throughout this part of the film we see the writers really tried to incorporate traits common of people with autism. Jiwoo repeats things she hears, she self harms under stress and she doesnt recognise body language very well despite her mum trying to teach her. She also has a packet of sweets in which she only eats the blue ones. She's also really naive.

There are quite a few storylines in this film but I felt like the most unnecessary one was that Sunho is 45 and single living with his physically weakened father. He is constantly being badgered by his father to date one of his old classmates from university who is also a lawyer. It doesn't add much to the story except being a minor motivator for him to be more genuine and to recognise good and bad people.

The point where you think the film would be resolved is where it actually keeps going. Sunho wins the case but realises that he made a grave mistake when he hears Miran say something that Jiwoo constantly repeats. He decides to go to court again but instead of as the defence he proves that Jiwoo was right and the murder was committed by Miran. He regains the trust of her family and helps Jiwoo make friends. He's even there on her birthday after she transfers to a special school.

My favourite scene honestly was when he gave her a bottle full of her favourite sweets.

"How do you like your new school?"

"It's alright. Just a little strange."

"Why?"

"I don't have to pretend to be normal anymore."

9/10

[6.1/10] This is another one that just didn’t do much for me. The real good stuff here is all on the edges. Abed’s Batman routine is mainly comic relief, but damn if Danny Pudi doesn’t just commit and wring every ounce of humor out of it. And I especially like the Shirley C-story, where she realizes she’s projecting her own hurt over her estranged husband onto Britta and taking it out on Prof. Slater. Yvette Nicole Brown really gives a great dramatic performance there, full of hurt and realization. It’s subtle but strong acting that sells it

But man, am I not interested in a cliché pull between Jeff being a suave man on the prowl and Jeff being a good friend to the group. His exchanges with Slater have some good energy, but the whole shtick with Britta as his Jiminy Cricket is lame, and the whole conflict is too. At the same time, Pierce feeling insecure about his age could be interesting, but it’s played so cartoony and coupled with a drug trip that saps it of any force. (Though you can see Justin Lin trying out some fancy director moves here and there, so there’s that.)

Overall, this one is a non-starter and weak entry in the show’s early going.

[7.6/10] Lots of good stuff in this one. The main debate gets a little cartoony with the soul-patch douchebag opponent’s desperate gambit. But this is really the first gasps of Jeff and Annie as a pairing, and it’s not hard to see why fans latched onto them, with the sort of uncomfortable but undeniable chemistry between the two of them. I like the idea of Jeff thinking this is stupid and doing it just for a parking spot, then doing it because he actually cares about losing and is more bothered by the prospect of being beaten than he lets on, and then realizing that he’s more affected by Annie than he lets on. The whole “man is good”/”man is evil” thing gets a little silly, but overall, still good.

My favorite subplot, is the one where Abed, as a studier of human character, is basically able to predict the future. It’s a little fourth wall-breaking, as Abed should be, but it’s just chock full of great setups and payoffs, particularly when it comes to Shirley being so freaked out by it and the hints that a professor is a werewolf.

The one real weakspot in this one, as is sadly becoming common, in the Pierce storyline. Him doing a terrible job of being a hypnotherapist for Britta is pretty weak, and the twist that the image of a threesome in his hottub is what dissuades Britta from smoking is a pretty mild payoff.

Overall, a quite good episode that launched a thousand Jeff/Annie ships!

[6.7/10] A lesser light by Community’s standards. This one feels a lot messier than other earlier episode, and hadn’t quite mastered the show’s scene-by-scene virtuosity to make that sort of vibe work yet. Jeff and Britta being the “parents” of the group and trying to steer Annie away from Vaughn and toward Troy is a good premise, and this is the most I’ve liked their dynamic in a while, but something about the storyline gets too sitcomm-y and then the show just collapses into vague, multi-car pile-ups of romance.

I’ve also found Vaughn a little trying and the ending with him singing to Annie a little meh. Abed’s eye-brow raising is a good laugh, and Troy’s whole deal here is pretty funny, but the storyline just collapses under its own weight in the third act. (And Britta’s part of it gets semi-incoherent.)

The B-story, like most storylines focusing on pierce, is fine enough but nothing to write home about. Pierce trying to do riffs and being frustrated when he can’t, only to fall back on physical comedy, feels like real life (or Dan Harmon’s own frustrations with the biggest “name” in his cast) writing the script, but it has its moments, and Troy and Abed’s fascination with kickpuncher is enjoyable.

Overall, definitely a weaker episode, but one with some individual scenes or gags that are winners.

7.4/10. The Abed story is what makes this one. The premise of the gang trying to Can’t Buy Me Love/Love Don’t Cost a Thing him after discovering a girl who seemingly has a crush on him is, as Jeff points out, a bit trite and inevitably going to lead to a “just be yourself” message. But, as Community always does when it’s at its best, the episode finds interesting wrinkles to that archetypal story.

The reveal that Abed not only doesn’t need to be someone else to get the girl, but that he doesn’t need to be encouraged at all, is a nice reversal. The sentiment that when you know who you are and what you’re like about yourself, changing for others isn’t a big deal, is a pretty powerful one in the confines of a semi-goofy story. And Abed showing the gang that as well-meaning as they were, it was them who were missing the boat, not him, is another great turnaround. It’s one of those bits that it’s hard to imagine another show being able to pull off as well.

Jeff’s story on the other hand is…not that great. I appreciate that it dovetails well with Abed’s lesson, but the whole notion of Jeff refusing to play pool because he doesn’t want to look dumb is not a strong enough motivation or story engine. On top of that, the big third act resolution, with Jeff and the pool teacher stripping down to their skivvies to play their big game, is broad without being clever in a way that doesn’t suit the show. There’s a sports movie parody baked in there somewhere that works at times, but for the most part, it pales in comparison to the other storyline.

Plus there’s all the great little asides that make Community great. The recurring bit about Britta pronouncing “baggles” is minor but hilarious. The gags about Abed being on the spectrum are funny because they’re about the rest of the gang’s reaction rather than Abed himself. And the whole ep is quite the showcase for Dani Pudi, who excels whether he’s imitating a vampire, Don Draper, Jeff, or pulling double duty as Joey. The Jeff B-story brings it down a little bit, but overall it’s a quality episode.

[8.3/10] Such a fun episode. One of the great things about Community is just how well-observed all the spoofs are, and how well they manage to map whatever piece of pop cultural flotsam they’re toying with these week onto this show’s sensibilities. “Epidemiology” is a superb episode, because it manages to make this a legitimately great zombie story in its own right (replete with a nice visual reference to Day of the Dead), while also bolting on a nice Troy/Abed and a lot of character-specific jokes.

For one thing, there’s a lot of great visual work in this one. The lighting is dark and appropriately spooky for the setting, while leaving enough light to see all the characters and the zombies clearly. The races and escapes from the undead are great and tense while still being light enough to work. And the way the show plays with the tropes like people being trapped in the room while someone’s hiding that they’ve been bit, or Abed encouraging Troy to break barriers by making it to the end show a self-awareness and specificity of the parody that elevates it.

Plus, there’s great character moments galore. I died laughing at Jeff’s antics, between him being more worried about his suit than dying, and him texting regardless of whether or not he was zombified. The Chang/Shirley thing never really made sense to me, but I like the two of them bonding over people not getting their costumes, And of course, the way the episode turns a zombie outbreak into a brief but potent exploration of Troy’s desire to be cool juxtaposed with his desire to be Abed’s friend despite his nerdiness is great.

And hey, they even mix in some solid zombie explanations here, with experimental military taco meat (which makes sense given the Dean’s penny pinching), an air-conditioning based solution, and the military coming in to dose everyone afterward with a cover story. (As always, Jim Rash is tremendous as the Dean -- his delivery just cracks me up every time.)

Overall, a fantastic zombie parody, a nice Troy/Abed episode, and a lot of great Halloween comedy. Plus George Takei! What more could you want?

[7.3/10] I like the basic premise of this one -- what would you do if you knew you were going to hell no matter what -- a lot. The reactions from everyone in the group were superb.

My favorite was Chidi’s. While there’s been a lot of debate over him being “swole” I love his peep chili-focused descent into nihilism, especially his crazy speech to his students, which reveal the mind-warping effect of someone who’s struggled every day of his life to make decisions learning that none of his decisions matter anymore. It’s funny and sad in a great way.

I also like the Tahani and Jason side of things. Knowing that she’s heading to The Bad Place gives Tahani the clarity to see that her efforts for attention are pointless, and instead wants to be charitable. Jason, having been poor, understands the effect charity can have on someone’s life, and that makes them a great team to try to spread money out into the world (and set up a platonic marriage to make it happen and make Janet mad.)

Speaking of which, I like Janet and Michael together as well. Michael’s idea of writing a manifesto, so that others could succeed where they’ve failed, is a neat one, and Janet taking over typing because of Michael’s inept typing is amusing and relatable.

But the best, albeit easiest part, is Eleanor meaning to go back to her purely hedonistic ways and instead going out of her way to do good. It’s a reveal that the little nagging voice in her head is getting stronger, and that she’s growing as a person. Her efforts to get the group to try anyway, to help other people attain salvation even if it’s out of their reach, is a great place to land on, and helps rescue Chidi and the others from despair.

This also is sheer speculation, but I like the implied idea that, by knowing they’re damned, it suddenly makes the group’s actions count again. They can (or at least should) be able to earn points for these deeds because they’re not doing it to gain entrance to The Good Place -- they think that’s out of reach -- they’re just doing it to be good and altruistic. It’s a good twist, if that’s where they’re going with it.

Overall, an episode with a fun concept and a lot of chuckle-worthy bits.

[8.4/10] This is a great spoof of traditional horror tropes, while also showing how well Dan Harmon and company know their characters. The premise of somebody in the group being a psychopath is a nice spine for this one, and the coining of “Britta” as a verb is a Community classic.

My favorite of the stories here are Abed’s and Annie’s. Abed’s story of a hyper-prepared and overexplained couple at a cabin in the woods is both a nice take on his sort of hyperliteralism and nitpicky story sense, but also a nice broader spoof of the boring movies that cinemasins-style critiquers would create. At the same time, Annie’s “teach a vampire how to read” tale is an amusing parody of Twilight and a hundred other monster romance books, which also speaks to Annie’s need to help fix people (“You should be so proud of how I changed you!”), and has an amusingly disturbing twist with the werewolf dismemberment material that leaves her classmates in shock.

The next two runner-ups in the story department are Shirley’s and Britta’s. Shirley’s is a great visual take on a sort of Chick tract come to life. The misguided drug slang and low key disdain for her friends’ lifestyles, mixed with the self-righteous “I forgive yoooouuu!” and a great turn from Dean Pelton as the Him-esque devil is outstanding. And while Britta’s story is pretty standard stuff, the way her perfunctory storytelling is reflected in the skit and the dialogue is hilarious.

Jeff’s story is true to form as a way to get the group on the same page. Pierce’s turn as “Magnum” is pretty unpleasant, even if that’s supposed to be a reflection of Pierce’s prejudices and self-inflated ego. And Troy’s low grade take on a Human Centipede-type story isn’t full of as many laughs as you might expect, but at least reflects Troy’s teenage boy sense of “awesomeness!”

The group’s mutual paranoia and eventual realization that they’re all psychopaths is an amusing place to take the frame story (not to mention Britta imagining herself reading “Warren Peace”), and goes out on a fractured but sweet note which characterizes this show.

Overall, this is a great Halloween outing, with very funny takes on classic horror movie beats and knowing takes on each of the characters.

[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.

[7.3/10] Man, this moved at a crazy pace. I’ve liked the time we’ve spent doing The Experiment, and the twists and turns along the way have largely been strong ones. But even for a show known for blowing through plot, “Help Is Other People” just races through some of the biggest bombs this season could drop at the midway point.

The experiment is ending (and we’ve apparently jumped six months). Simone has figured out that something is amiss and has concocted elaborate theories. John spills the beans about Jason not being Jianyu to the group. We’re trying desperate maneuvers to get the four humans to rack up good deeds, like putting Brent in peril and telling them that they’re in The Bad Place.

That is, well, a lot. Most of it’s good! I like almost all of those developments, if not every slice of the execution. But man, that’s packing in a lot without giving any of it time to breathe. The rapidfire pace of this show is usually a feature, not a bug, but I walked away from this one excited for what’s to come next but also wishing we could have stretched some of this out and developed more connective tissue with what came before.

Still, there’s quality material here. We haven’t really had time to get to know Chidi and Simone as a couple (despite the amusing muffin/ducky appellations), but I appreciate the cause of their break-up here. It’s a little too conceptual rather than emotional, but I like the idea that it stems from a raw philosophical difference between the two. Simone is a scientist and evidentialist -- that means she keeps secrets from Chidi because she doesn't want to taint her analysis and walks away from Brent because he’s shown them no evidence that he’s a good person worth saving. Chidi is a Kantian and deontologist, which means he keeps secrets from Simone because he can’t bear to break his oath of secrecy and he goes to save Brent because he believes he has a moral duty to do so. The pair respect one another’s positions, but realize that it makes them incompatible when push comes to shove despite some on the ground chemistry.

I truly like that notion! It’s just a lot to get through in a single episode, and it’s harder to invest in that when we’ve barely seen them be a couple in the afterlife. There’s a level of chaos that’s introduced from Simone having identified that something fishy’s going on and snooping around to figure out what it is, but the destination is more impactful than the abbreviated journey.

On the other side, I like our heroes scrambling to get the humans in the best position possible before the experiment ends, and everything going predictably awry. Some of that is just standard sitcom storytelling, but there’s an enjoyable chaos that follows from Eleanor and company putting together their supposed perfect dash across the finish line, the humans completely thwarting that possibility, and then the good guys running around trying to react.

I appreciate their plan here, to try to earn them one more set of major good deed points by rescuing Brent when, for a guy that douchey, the only reason to save him could be pure altruism and respect for human life overall. The fact that it splits this quarter apart, when these sorts of events bonded the original group together, is an interesting shift away from our usual expectations and understanding, and I appreciate the desperation of it.

There’s also something interesting about the final ploy, to tell Brent and Chidi that they’re in the bad place (or rather, give Chidi enough to guess it), so that Brent has to confront the idea that he’s a bad person. Brent denying it, having his view of himself punctured, is a really intriguing idea that I imagine we won’t get to explore in any depth until later, if at all, and the notion of him apologizing to Chidi as a moral buzzer beater is compelling as a final monkey wrench in the experiment.

There’s also some good laughs here. Michael doing “earth magic” is amusingly lame. Janet trying to get into the obelisk and talking about how she’ll need to “violently eat” her Janet-babies were both laughs. Jason’s reaction to Tahani’s London references and Tahani’s shock at Jason’s two-for-two bits of coherency are both funny bits. And Eleanor going for the margarita pitcher rather than the glass at the end is a cheap laugh, but a solid one.

I just wish we got more of this. Maybe that’s me worrying that we have a Game of Thrones situation here, where there’s a good story to be told, but smushing it into a small episode order creates pacing and development plausibility problems. Still, I trust this show to make it work, and I hope that what comes next justifies that faith.

[8.5/10] One of my complaints about early episodes of The Good Place was that the psychology could be too simple. We’d see the humans face some challenge in the afterlife, flashback to an illuminating vignette in the past that informed their choices and character, and then see them have a breakthrough in the present.

“The Answer” is that idea on speed. We don’t just get a solid Chidi flashback; we get flashbacks to his whole life, to hidden moments over the course of the show we haven’t gotten to see before, to intimate conversations that gave him guidance and solace. And we don’t just get to see him have a breakthrough; we get to see him have the breakthrough, a resolution of his constant need to decide and find the solution to the problem.

The psychology gets sufficiently complex to match. It’s still comprehensible for a network T.V. show presentation, but the story of why Chidi is the way he is has more bumps and bruises along the way than the type of backstory we saw in the first season.

It’s a story about fearing his parents were on their way to divorce and Chidi seemingly arguing them out of it. The idea that, like all kids, he was dismayed by his parents fighting, and unlike most kids, thought that logic and study were the key to preventing it. When that plan seemed to work, it set him down the path to thinking that all problems had solutions, and that any solution could be found with enough diligence and perseverance.

It led Chidi to a life of constantly trying to find the answer, of treating all questions as directed toward one possible resolution that must be excavated through rigorous logic and constant examination of the texts. The show underscores this a little too heavily in Chidi’s scene with his schoolyard chum, but it does well to frame Chidi as having solved his first big problem this way and it having set him on the path that would carry him through the rest of his life...and afterlife.

Granted, no philosophy advisor in the world would tell their grad student that their thesis needs more heart, and Chidi’s girlfriend breaking up with him the same week feels convenient. (Though hey, I’ll never turn down a shout out to David Hume in the process.) But it sets up the twin concerns of the episode: that Chidi treats all questions as both answerable and equally important, and that he thinks love and romantic fulfillment are a problem that can be solved in the same way that a philosophical problem could.

What’s great about “The Answer” is that it not only sets up Chidi being able to get past both of those issues, but it does so through intimate, heart-to-hearts with all his fellow survivors. He gets a lesson in decisiveness and being in the moment from Jason, something the Jacksonville native is an expert in. He gets a lesson on confidence from Tahani, who talks about achieving it through failure, through getting knocked down and getting back up again until the prospect of getting knocked down is no big deal.

He gets an unexpected kiss from Eleanor, and with it, a lesson on the universe-approved love of your life perhaps not being the actual love of your life, but it being something that you have to figure out for yourself. And he gets a final, and most outstanding lesson from Michael, who tells him that soulmates happen through work, not through fiat, and that there’s more to Chidi’s parents story than he ever knew.

Chidi’s parents didn’t reconcile because he argued them into it. They went to counseling; they saw the best of each other in their son; they were reminded of what was already there. Michael drives this home, with his little bits of afterlife-worn wisdom. Just as he’s about to have his memory wiped, Chidi discovers that the ideas he’s founded his life on -- that any problem, including love, can be solved -- are wrong.

That should be devastating, and yet instead it’s freeing. The man plagued by indecision because he’s not sure what path will take him closer to the mythical, platonic (or, more accurately, Kantian) ideal answer, is suddenly allowed to pursue his passions, to follow what moves him, without needing to have it approved and understood from each philosophical underpinning before going after it.

That’s especially true for his affections for Eleanor. I’ll admit, I’m still not fully sold on the Eleanor/Chidi pairing, and I have major qualms about the “finding The One will heal everything that ails you” message that more than a few other T.V. shows and movies subscribe to. And yet, there’s something incredibly stirring about Chidi’s note to himself. He has spent so long in search of the answer that it’s been paralyzing, preventing him from living his best life and being truly happy. Now, he’s found someone who conjures that happiness within him, and he realizes it’s more important than any grand, abstract problem he might otherwise set his mind on. There’s something truly beautiful about that thought.

There’s also something brilliantly ironic about the fact that Chidi has his breakthrough on not needing to find the answer and self-actualizes in a way that frees him from that burden, right when the group needs him to “Go all Chidi” and decide what new principles the afterlife should be founded upon.

But maybe, just as ironically, he’s already found them. Chidi and Michael reach the conclusion that life is not a puzzle that can be solved once and then set aside. Instead, you have to solve anew each day, again and again. Maybe the answer Chidi’s looking for isn’t a new way to formulate points or tally good deeds and bad. Maybe it’s that points, that reductions of the infinite complexities of our existence to dots and dashes and other efforts to chalk up the best and worst of us, inevitably fail to account for who and what we are from day to day. It represents a similar evolution in The Good Place itself -- recognizing that what makes a person who they are takes more than an A-to-B flashback, but a rush of key moments and realizations that build to a greater whole.

Either way, humanity, existence, and more may rest on Chidi’s shoulders, but he’s no longer burdened by the need to solve for x, and content to look into the eyes of the woman he loves with joy and hope. For now, at least, that’s enough.

Verdict: Better than Season 4! If not by much. Definitely not good enough to justify the constant self-referential jokes about Season 4 being bad when there's still a lot of episodes that aren't much better than Season 4 (I hate it when shows make jokes about their past seasons without being good seasons themselves so this automatically causes it to lose points). Season 5a was a lot stronger than Season 5b - and I felt like this show lost a LOT when Donald Glover left, and it's going to lose a lot next season with no more Jonathan Banks and John Oliver too. Feels like it's a show that gets worse the more self-indulgent it becomes and it's very much a case of Dan Harmon being caught up in his own hype.

I talked about Pierce and Troy's farewell episodes a few days ago - and they're the high-point of the series I think for me. It handles Troy's farewell brilliantly and manages to get Pierce perfectly even in an episode without Chevy Chase ever actually being there at all, Walton Goggins showing up was hilarious and Troy's send off in a mostly Britta-centric episode worked well and made the best use of a LeVar Burton cameo. Also, this is probably due to the fact that I'm watching this much later after the app-rating parody trend seems to have passed - but App Development and Condiments just felt there to me; other shows have tackled a similiar subject so much better. And there's yet another trap that the show falls into of tackling high-concept episodes - they're fine in their isolation but there's just too many of them and they just feel like once again, the show's doing them just because they can and hasn't really learned anything. They keep repeating concepts without trying something new, and even the season's best episode - Basic Intergluteal Numismatics, which I liked - isn't as good as the Law & Order parody that came before it.

I'm fine with the odd one or two concept episode but they're still really overbearing - the Dungeons & Dragons episode felt a bit too repetitive and just a weaker retread of what had come before; and the G.I. Joe episode just felt like a weaker version of the Christmas animated episode and it felt really hollow as a result (especially given the lazy copout of the It was all a dream ending, which feels like a direct retread of the Season 4 finale). And even given the choice as much as I loved Geothermal Escapism, I'd take the paintball episodes over it. Community used to be a show that was able to balance emotional stuff with the concept episodes and although it does it with Troy's departure, that's probably the only time it manages this season as even Jeff and Britta's on/off marriage proposal/breakup just feels flat and forced like they needed to get two characters together and - yes, they called out on the trope but they didn't do anything with it. Also: Abed realising that he's on a show... didn't work for me, as much as I love Abed's character.

The characters don't feel anywhere near close to what they were in the past especially by the end - in part due to how plot-driven the finale is, there's a few quiet moments but mostly they just feel there to react to the news that there's buried treasure and that's all we get. Most of the time they're all pretty much interchangable now to the point they all feel like shadows of their former selves. Also: Chang just becoming part of the group still feels odd especially given everything that happened in Season 3 - did they really forget about him essentially TRYING TO KILL THEM?, but I did like some of the material that Chang had this season. Even Season 4 had a better ending than Season 5 - at least they actually tried to give Jeff a character arc.

If anything - Season 5 feels like The Rise of Skywalker (although that's not to compare Season 4 to The Last Jedi because I loved TLJ and didn't click with Season 4). It feels very much like a course-correction, over-reactionary, safe and ambitionless when Community previously was daring, risk-taking and always trying out new things. And what's arguably made it worse is that this time it feels self-indulgent and self-righteous (see back to the constant gags about Season 4 being a 'blip'). When I started Season 3 I was worried it would go full Sherlock and jump the shark completely - and it looks like it has done. Now it's just - aside from the odd exception - stale and lifeless. Still: one more season to go! (If I ever do rewatches, unless Season 6 salvages it I'm sticking with Seasons 1-2).

Favourite episodes from the season:

Cooperative Polygraphy
Geothermal Escapism
Basic Intergluteal Numismatics