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.
A strong and effective send off for Daniel that does hit the right emotional spots. It's handled with care. Of course, even back in 2002 it was widely reported that Michael Shanks was going to be leaving the show, so there wasn't a surprise factor here. But that didn't diminish how sad it was to watch.
While the episode does remove his character, it has the foresight to not "kill" him off as such, leaving the possibility open for appearances in the future. But even so, this manages to feel final. The farewell between him and Jack is played very nicely, and it was the right choice that Daniel selects him to say goodbye to. Their friendship has been rough along the way (even as recently as a couple of episodes ago with the ending of 'Meridian'), but it's really grown into one of the most solid relationships here. The tears in Michael Shanks eyes feel genuine which is a testament to his acting abilities.
Whether you agree with Daniel's reasons for leaving is another matter. He seems to almost be giving up, despite his protestations that he's not. He claims to feel useless and that he's done all he can; I'm not sure I quite feel the same. The episode attempts to justify his state of mind, but the fact that it's not been built up kind of makes it not ring entirely true for me. He and SG-1 have accomplished a LOT over the past few years.
Other than that, this introduces us to the naquadria element and also Jonas Quinn. I like Jonas and I think this episode helps to establish his morals quite well.
I remember a lot of online discussion back in the day about Carter's goodbye scene with Daniel where she's talking about "why do we always wait to tell people how we really feel?". This was misinterpreted by a lot of people, myself included, as her declaring some romantic feelings towards him. I think it's an easy mistake to make given the words she chooses, but it's definitely not meant that way.
[6.5/10] Every story in this one was some mix of good and bad, or in one case, outright bad.
Let’s start with that one. Alexis is the worst here. So not only does she lie to Ted about keeping things from their former relationship, but then she plays a convoluted game of take-backsies with Twyla over a locket that Ted had given her, after insulting her appearance, no less. Sure, I guess Ted calls her on the lie eventually and Twyla ends up with a bunch of expensive jewelry because of it, but it’s a bad case of Alexis being shitty and there’s hardly a laugh to be had in it.
The biggest mixed bag is Moira’s story. Her going crazy after taking a host of Bosnian pep pills is the sort of broadest of broad humor that makes me roll my eyes. That said, Catherine O’Hara is a champ and manages to sell at least some of it. But the whole “Johnny’s secret love letters” bit hitting the gossip train is just a dumb storyline. That said, I like where they end up with it, with Johnny explaining that Moira wrote them herself while injured and on painkillers, and Johnny had taken them out because he missed her while she was filming in Bosnia. It’s still a dumb subplot, but it at least ends in a sweet place.
The really weird storyline is the one where David and Stevie get robbed. For what it’s worth, I thought the scene where the actually get robbed is hilarious. The two of them being caught like deer in the headlights and not knowing what to do, scrambling around to try to placate their would-be attacker, is a nice bit of comedy, especially with the performers’ reaction to the whole thing.
What’s strange, though, is how “Love Letters” follows that up. Apparently they “did it wrong” somehow? Apparently attempting to mollify a potential robber with luxury goods when you don’t have cash to hand over is bad for some reason? And they should have challenged him on not having a weapon despite the fact that they had no idea what was or wasn’t under his jacket? When someone in a mask threatens you and tells you they’re robbing you, you don’t have to risk bodily harm, especially if you’re someone like David who, let’s face it, probably isn’t much good in a fight. It’s really bizarre to me how both Patrick and the cop give him and Stevie shit over it. The two are very funny in their scenes, so I’m inclined to give it a pass on laughs alone, but it’s a really weird setup.
Overall, this one has a few funny and/or nice moments but a lot of problems on top of them.
When I started this show, the night of the multiple Emmy wins, I was confused. It seemed like an Arrested Development rip-off with a load of more conventional sitcom tropes thrown in, but without the laughter track.
After the first two seasons, I found myself asking people who'd watched it all about when it gets good. And now, having watched every episode, I find myself asking the same question. There were some great scenes and some good episodes, but never a consistent run of great episodes. At no point was it funny enough to justify the tedious and saccharine sentimentality (if I'd wanted to watch The Waltons, I would've done), nor emotionally striking enough to justify the comedy deficit. The only 'emotional' moment really that worked was the final scene with Alexis and Ted.
In its favour, it had great leads performing the thin material very well, and it was an easy, unchallenging watch. One of the key features of a good comedy is whether I'd want to watch it again, and in this case it is very unlikely.
So I'm still left wondering what merited all those Emmys, not least because every main character (other than maybe Alexis) had become a broad caricature of themselves by the weak final season. That said, the Emmy's picked a serviceable but unremarkable Rick & Morty episode over one of the greatest TV episodes ever (the penultimate episode of Bojack), so what the hell do they know?
This was the sort of episode where it felt like a lot of pieces were finally snapping into place. I liked the fact that Allison is having trouble coping with her role as a double agent. She's not just a cold and indifferent spy. She's caught up in something that's put her under a lot of strain and stress and while she seems cool and self-assured in the thick of it, she's having a lot of trouble in private moments. It's solid, character-based take on the hoary mole story that takes advantage of the actress's abilities.
To the same end, I also appreciated Jonas, of all characters, in this episode. He's something the show's desperately lacked for more than a few seasons now -- a regular individual who can look at the world of spooks and spies and remark as to how batshit insane that entire sphere is. It helps ground the show a little, and to put Carrie's transition into civilian life into perspective. He's not my favorite character on the show or anything, but he's a voice of reason to some extent here, in opposition to the take-it-for-granted personalities of everyone in the muck of intelligence gathering on the show, which makes the role he plays in the episode interesting.
I do appreciate that they're shining some light and connecting a number of dots here. Carrie puts together the general nature (if not the specifics or motive) for the people who put a hit on her. We understand the goal of the Russians and it's set up nicely with what we've seen from Saul and his colleagues so far. There's even some legitimate connection between Carrie, Laura, and Numan via the documents, to where it seems like they're legitimately positioning them to come together (as is inevitable) in a way that feel's natural rather than contrived. The disparate threads of the plot are all being tied together nicely so far, and it helps.
The weaker parts of the episode, however, were the hacktivist story and Quinn's wounded duck routine. The hacktivist protest, with Numan's mask and the lowgrade "I am Spartacus" routine just reeked of watered-down attempts at topicality, though having witnessed a couple of Occupy protests, it wasn't necessarily off the mark. It still just feels like this storyline was stapled into Homeland from a different show. The tone is a little off, and while Homeland is not always subtle, there's a bluntness and an all-too-tidy nature to how this plot is depicted that renders the storyline less than pleasing.
In the same vein, Quinn's weak-willed suicide attempt to protect Carrie felt like too much. He loves Carrie; we know that, but I thought this was a bridge too far and not necessarily depicted artfully either. Plus, I have no idea where they're going with the religious guy following him around. I suppose I should withold judgment.
Those griefs aside, I appreciated how this episode put an interesting spin on some spy cliches, like the troubled mole or the concerned civilian, and how it's started assembling the plot and bringing disparate elements together in a way that both makes sense and is intriguing.
Yeah, baby! I'm all about crossovers. And a vintage musical crossover? Sign me the fuck up!
I love the fact that Melissa Benoist, Grant Gustin and Darren Criss all used to be on Glee. It must've been a fun little reunion for them to shoot this thing.
Well, would you look at that. Fuckboy isn't just a former slave owner, he's a former prince of slave owners. What a catch, am I right?
(Can he please just die already?)
At least Kara dumped his ass for now, but let's be real, this is the CW. She'll take him back despite the fact that he's a toxic piece of shit. Just free her from this awful relationship. What do I have to do? Cause I'd sell one of my kidneys to make that happen.
Cop Maggie! Cop Maggie! Cop Maggie! Give me more of that, please! Give me 42 minutes of that, I don't give a damn. I love her so much.
Winn is really unlucky when it comes to the ladies. But seriously, this one was his fault. Having sex in a museum? Don't you have a bed for that? Or, I don't know, a kitchen counter? Or any other flat surface in your apartment? If you want an adventure, go skydiving, not commit felonies. And fine, I understand why Lyra did what she did, but why did she even need Winn for that in the first place? She's invisible, for crying out loud. She didn't need a patsy to take the fall. The police would have never been able to prove it was her, anyway.
The finale to season 1 may be low key, but it's a very strong episode. The religious aspects that the show will come to be known for are fully introduced here, and they're handled maturely. I've always found the Bajoran faith to be fascinating and one of my favourite parts of this show, even though I consider myself agnostic and have a low opinion of organised religion. DS9 manages to successfully intertwine the beliefs of science and faith, and figure out how its characters can learn to keep those two points of view while still respecting each other. It's not an easy journey, as this episode demonstrates.
It's worth noting that this is the first time since the pilot that Sisko's role as the Emissary has been referred to in any significant way. The episode introduces a couple of major recurring characters in Vedek Bareil and Vedek Winn - the latter being played wonderfully by Louise Fletcher and managing to inspire an incredible amount of hate in the viewer! If you despise her, as most do, that only means that she did her job extremely well. And it's going to get much, much more intense from here on!
I like the O'Brien subplot, it's just a shame that Neela hadn't had more of a presence throughout the season up to this point. That would have made her reveal much more powerful. It's also great to see Odo being the excellent investigator that he is. Dax is still relegated to not much more than a background science person at this point, I hadn't realised just how little the first season had used her.
An overall great episode and powerful end to the first season, really showing that Sisko and Kira have worked through things to find common ground and respect for each other. The only real weak point for me was the slow motion "noooooooo!" at the end which was a bit cheesy. It is redeemed somewhat by - for once - a gorgeous accompanying musical score.
[9.3/10] At first blush, Baby Driver writer-director Edgar Wright and fellow director Wes Anderson don’t seem like a natural pairing. Wright’s films, like Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead tend to be overtly comedic, include a good quotient of action, and bring an adventure-focused quality to the proceedings. Anderson’s, by contrast, tend to be quieter, more droll pictures, that are certainly funny and have their share of exciting moments, but which find their form in the more reserved, music box sensibilities of Anderson’s oeuvre.
And yet, Wright and Anderson’s films have something very much in common. They both create films where it seems like the world was built to fit their characters, rather than more typical films where the main personalities find themselves struggling in a world that’s indifferent to them or even more commonly, which doesn’t fit them at all. Whether it’s Anderson’s elegant dioramas or Wright’s “everything’s foreshadowing” rube goldberg machines, the environments of these films bend to our heroes, not the other way around, resulting in some wonderfully well-choreographed cinema.
Baby Driver is the apotheosis of this tack, brought to bear in the form of car chases, gunfights, and the best jukebox soundtrack this side of the galaxy (and any attendant guardians). Indeed, Marvel Studios’ Guardians is a nice reference point, as both films not only feature countless rockin’ tunes, but also center on roguish but decent young men, holding onto to the last holy artifacts of their mother, finding solace in music and falling in with a rough crowd before deciding to stand for something more. It’s kismet that star Ansel Elgort, who plays the lead (appropriately named “Baby’), is signed on to be the past and future Han Solo in the latest standalone Star Wars flick, a character who’s very much in the DNA of Guardians’ Peter “Star-Lord” Quill.
Independent of any comic book counterparts, however, Baby Driver doesn’t offer much in terms of an original premise. Baby is a badass driver and a decent kid, mixed up with some bad folks, tentative about the prospect of blood and his hands, wanting to start a new life with his lady love. There are a lot of tropes in the film: the quiet but effective young naif, the loose cannon gangster, the slimy mastermind, the ingenue who represents a beacon of hope, the inevitable moral dilemma.
But what the film lacks in originality in its setup, it more than makes up for in performance, texture, and execution. Baby Driver has a murderer’s row of performers who chew up and spit out Wright’s script and make what could otherwise be stock character come alive and compensate for any dearth of depth with the sheer vividness of their presence.
Kevin Spacey looks alive for the first time in ages, bringing a blasé menace as the organizer of each heist. Jamie Foxx is at his extroverted best, rolling through pointed monologues and bringing a lived-in flavor of crazy. Lily James has enough homespun, wanderlust charm to balance out her underwritten part. Elgort is necessarily more reserved, but equally endearing and a fine fulcrum for the movie. And Jon Hamm brings his Mad Men practiced-gentility in a fashion that makes him seem like that much monstrous when the scales fall.
But while the performances carry the film in its quieter moments, what sets Baby Driver apart is sequence after superlative sequence of breathtaking kinetic cinema. Not content to simply toss in explosive but empty action to keep the heart-pumping, Wright, cinematographer Bill Pope, and editor Paul Machliss create these elegantly constructed set pieces of gorgeous synchronous stunts, twists, and turns, the hum right along with the music, just like the protagonist.
That works whether Baby is blowing the doors off the film’s opening with a series of death-defying terms perfectly sequenced to his backing track. It works when the young man finds himself embroiled in a firefight where surprise shots and returned fire blast back and forth in time with the beat. It works in chases on foot as the rhythmic thump of the tune of the moment matches the energy of pursuers and pursued alike. Even when Baby goes to get coffee, the world moves with him; from the graffiti on the walls to the buskers on the street everything goes where he goes.
In the same way, the film doesn’t so much present action scenes as it does ballets of chrome and octane. Baby Driver oozes with style and tempo, knowing how to hold the audience’s attention through great escapes that and close scrapes that keep topping one another, and quieter scenes where the tension comes from sweet interactions juxtaposed with combustive elements, leading the viewer to wonder which will win the day.
It’s also a near perfectly-paced movie. Like a perfect mixtape, Wright knows when to kick things into gear and when to slow things down to let the audience catch its breath before putting his foot on the gas once more. While the film starts to feel a bit overextended at the very end, with the villain creeping into unkillable slasher territory, for the vast majority of its runtime it holds your attention from moment to moment and scene to scene expertly. In that, Wright matches the talents of his protagonist, directing and maneuvering this complex machine like it were a rough-and-tumble ballerina, full of slick thrills and inimitable grace.
He achieves this with a movie, a setting, and a lead character, that each move like clockwork in sync with one another. While Baby Driver is neither as quiet or twee as Wes Anderson’s work, it brings with it the film’s own sense of longing and melancholy beneath an intricately constructed world. Every scene is a dance, every moment a confluence of sound and imagery and movement, whether in the pulse-pounding races against cops or robbers, or gauzy imaginings of another life that might be. In Baby Driver, Wright has built his most elegant, intricate toy, and it’s a treat and a pleasure to see him play on the screen once again.
Creative and enjoyable, with a pleasantly weird alternate-universe/time-shift aspect that never becomes too complicated to follow. It leaves you with the odd feeling of having seen the Voyager crew die, but never really being sure if they were our original crew, or whether that even matters. The exact same thing happens to Harry that happens to O'Brien in DS9's 'Visionary', in that we are left with a version of the character who isn't exactly our own one.
It was also good to see the Vidiians back to being pretty decent bad guys again. There was something chilling about the way they just assessed unconscious people by which organs they could harvest from them. Janeway was a bit of a badass in regards to the solution to getting rid of them.
Having the duplicate Janeways standing so close to each other during their scenes made it look like they were about to kiss, and really made me aware of how shows had to work within the 4:3 aspect ratio back then. I felt a bit more let down that the two versions of Kes didn't really interact with each other at all.
I got quite wrapped up in the ordeal of Ensign Wildman finally having her baby, which certainly ran through a gamut of emotions! Chakotay was as useless as ever, and I noticed that Voyager didn't require his authorisation to concur with setting the self-destruct - I guess Janeway changed that because she knows he'd just mess it up.
Okay, I really wanted to like this episode, mainly because Jacqueline's character development is such a feminist statement. Unfortunately, the entire subplot with Titus as a Geisha is......argh. The way they dealt with this subplot is very one-sided and unfair. This episode comes off as pandering to the anti-SJW/anti-PC crowd. They could have at least give the PC crowd a much fairer portrayal. Like pointing out more realistic reasons why they're offended by Titus' portrayal of a Geisha in the first place like how doing a yellowface can actually be harmful to the way how people perceive Asians. Not because they're offended cause they're offended, like how they were portrayed in the show. With this, it gives a much fairer discussion on the still talked about political correctness vs. comedy debate. But nope, it's very clear what kind of bias Tina Fey has in regards to this topic.
In regards to this debate. Full-on political correctness is bad. I believe jokes on very taboo subjects has to at least be clever and does not come off as making fun of the oppressed. Like in regards to making a rape joke that makes a rapist the butt of the joke rather than the rape victims. Of course, that subplot is in response to the whitewashing of Jacqueline since the actress who is playing her is white. Honestly, I am okay with Jacqueline's character being an Native American despite being played by an actress who is white because it's ironic, gives a plot twist that Jacqueline is not actually white and also delivers a sad massage about how many PoC had to make themselves white to be feel worthy. Honestly, with this kind of story, I wouldn't buy an accurate Native American actor playing Jacqueline. Let me be clear that whitewashing in general is awful. This is just an exemption because this particular part is executed well in my opinion.
[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.
I remember watching this episode in the '90s and being stunned that they actually referenced minor events from previous episodes. At this point I was just used to the Star Trek style of storytelling which was generally very self-contained. But Stargate embraced continuity, and this episode brings back completely unimportant characters from not one but two previous adventures! Just for single, throwaway scenes! Crazy! The fact that the show rewarded you for watching like this was one of the things which made me fall in love with it.
So there it is, the worst thing HIMYM had ever done, or would ever do. "The Robin" was once my breaking point on this show, the point where I stopped harboring any illusions that it might one day return to being the show and I had known and loved and accepted that, instead, it had metamorphasized into a pale imitation of its former self. HIMYM had previously had bad episode, bad characters, and bad storylines, but none of them was so fundamental to the mythos of the series, so bafflingly wrong-headed, and so essential to the show's past and its future, as "The Final Page."
But before we explore the horror, let's take just a minute to chat about the things that are okay, even good about the episode. The comedy subplot about Marshall and Lily having their first day off since Marvin was born gets pretty broad, between their minute-by-minute list of activities, to their cartoonish lullaby, to their immediate separation anxiety, but it's pretty standard HIMYM Season 8 comedy, with a few cute moments, and that's enough to give it a pass.
What's more, Ted's speech to Robin about the virtues of making an ass of yourself is a lovely little scene, that manages to delve into Ted's fairly unrealistic view of what loves means, and yet draws it back to something sweet -- that even his wildest misfires have helped him to find a great friend. I've never really bought into the show's thesis, first presented in Season 7, that what was holding Ted back from finding The One was that he needed to get over Robin. But accepting that premise, his words are heartfelt and the gesture of taking Robin to the WWN building is meaningful.
With that out of the way, let's talk about the event that manages to wreck one of the show's foundational relationships, botch its romantic-arc storytelling over at least the last season and a half, practically ruin two of the show's main characters, and infect nearly everything that came after it: The Robin.
The result is simple -- essentially everything from Barney's profession of love to Robin in "Splitsville" has been part of a play, a scheme on Barney's part prime Robin for his proposal. The drunken kiss, the dating Patrice, the whole kit and kaboodle, were one grand effort at manipulating Robin into loving him.
Let's address the first problem with this whole plan -- it's tremendously implausible. The problem with a lot of works, be they dramatic or comedic, aping the Tyler Durden-esque twist that reshapes everything you've seen previously, is that too often they require all too much convenience in order for these sorts of byzantine plots to work. Too much of "The Robin" requires people to react in just the right way, at just the right time, on just the right schedule, or the whole thing falls apart.
Now HIMYM has always been a show that runs more on emotional logic than on real logic. To some degree, you accept the level of willing suspension of disbelief necessary to enjoy this show, or you pretty much have to give up on the whole thing from the beginning (or chalk it up to Future Ted as an unreliable narrator). I'm generally okay with that idea, and the other contrivances that are necessary for the grand gestures that are the stock and trade of HIMYM to work. But this one stretches the reality of the show too far. Maybe it's just that there's too many moving parts; maybe it's that the plan stacks implausibility on top of implausibility until the whole bit is too unwieldy to pass even the most generous of B.S. detectors, or maybe it's that I don't like what this routine is in service of and that colors my willingness to accept it or not. Whatever the reason, "The Robin" feels like a bridge too far in terms of the coincidences necessary for Barney's ploy to work, and while that's far from this episode's greatest problem, it does sincerely damage the effectiveness of the twist.
So let's get into the greatest problem, which is really two fold: that Barney would do something like this and that Robin would accept it.
The first part is arguably, devastatingly in-character for Barney. There have been several episodes to rehabilitate Barney as not just some sort of Lothario on the prowl, but as an actual human being with real feelings and a desire to love and to be loved. The results have been mixed, and all too often the show falls back into the idea that Barney is basically a sex-minded wizard, conjuring spells on unsuspecting dames at the bar with little moral compunction.
So then it's not crazy that Barney would offer this bizarro version of something Ted might do. Barney too goes in for the big gesture, for making an ass of himself, but he does it in the most deranged, cruel manner imaginable, that plays into the worst qualities of the character. Manipulating someone that you claim to love, knowingly putting them through the pain and humiliation and instability that Robin has been suffering from over the past few episodes, doesn't amount to a grand profession of love; it amounts to the revelation that Barney doesn't really understand what love is.
Because what's striking about "The Robin," and what is supposed to ease the audience into accepting all of these horrible things, is that Barney has no malice in any of this. Barney isn't trying to hurt Robin; he's not trying to trick her into loving him; he's not trying to be an amoral monster about something as sacrosanct as two people pledging the rest of their lives to one another. He just doesn't understand. "The Robin" unintentionally reveals that the Barney's arc from, at a minimum, the end of Season 2, where he slowly develops from a sexual predator into a mature human being, is a failure. It leads to a person who believes he loves another person, and maybe, in his own way, he does, but through his twisted methods, shows he has no concept of what love really is.
Love is not torturing someone so as to catch them off guard with your proposal. (I'm also looking at you, Friends.) Love is not intentionally driving someone "nuts." Love is not toying with people's emotions. Love is not spying on your friends. Love is not pretending to date the object of your heart's desire's worst enemy just to get to them. Love is not an elaborate game where if you lie and cheat and steal enough along the way, you get a human trophy at the end.
These are not the acts of someone who truly cares for another human being. These are the acts of a sociopath. This is the best Barney can do. This is him playacting as a romantic. This is him trying to replicate the rhythms of the Mosbies of the world while having no facility, maybe even no idea, about what truly loving another person means.
And this is the point where Barney crosses the moral event horizon. It is telling that the show's creators patterned Barney's "long con" after a similarly elaborate plot from Breaking Bad's Walter White (occasional HIMYM guest star Bryan Cranston). That moment in Breaking Bad is arguably the point where Walter White goes from being a man with good intentions and bad impulses to being the monster he would become. "The Robin" presents a turning point for Barney as well. This is where he goes from being a character who does some pretty terrible things that you can write off as an exaggerated, nigh-satirical take on "pickup artist," buoyed by the character's accumulated vulnerabilities and affections, to becoming someone who would enact this horrifying, violating scheme and view it as a sincere expression of love.
Maybe it is. Maybe this is the closest Barney can come to expressing the emotions that he believes amount to love. But if so, that's terrible, and speaks volumes about the fissures in the foundation of a relationship HIMYM doesn't just wants us to be on board with, but which has been, and will be, at the core of the series' final three seasons.
But perhaps even more insulting is the idea that Robin accepts it. Robin herself has deteriorated a bit as a character since the beginning, becoming more and more exaggerated herself as the late season dearth of places to take the show's characters became more pronounced. And yet there is little in her history that suggests the cynical, pragmatic, independent woman we have seen over seven-plus years, would not only excuse Barney's deplorable behavior, but accept it as a sign that the two of them should be together.
Robin herself offers the most convincing and powerful rebuke of Barney's inherently messed-up gesture. "Seriously, Barney?" she asks. "Even you, even someone as certifiably insane as you must realize that this is too far. You lied to me, manipulated me for weeks. Do you really think I could ever kiss you after that? Do you really think I could ever trust you after that? This this is proof of why we don't work, why we'll never work. So thank you. You've set me free because how could I be with a man who thinks that this trick, this enormous lie could ever make me want to date him again?"
That should really have been it. Robin should have walked away, resolved never to talk to or let Barney into her life ever again, and recognize him as someone who could not trusted to be honest, to be open, to be a mature human being in an adult relationship. Instead, she realizes that this is all, in fact, leading to a proposal, and convinces her to have a complete change of heart about the whole thing.
And it makes absolutely no sense.
How that sense of betrayal becomes instant acceptance of the offer to marry this cretin is beyond me. The most charitable interpretation is that Robin appreciates this as Barney being all-in as only he can be. But that doesn't erase the horrible things he did to her to get there, or offer any indication that he couldn't or wouldn't twist noble ends into terrible acts once more. The less charitable interpretation is that Robin has been left so off-balance and messed up by Barney's machinations that she's in a bad enough place mentally to be willing to accept this sort of thing. The even less charitable interpretation is that no reasonable human being would ever look at what Barney did as a genuine sign of love, or at least as a sign that someone can be trusted to be a committed, loving partner in life, and the show just fiats Robin's emotional acceptance to get us to an end point it not only hasn't earned, but which is the antithetical result to all that we've seen thus far.
Or maybe there's another explanation.
The version of Robin Scherbatsky we've seen over the last handful of episodes has not been good or decent or likable. She is pointlessly horrible to Patrice. She selfishly tries to sabotage what she thinks is Barney's relationship with Patrice. And she only returns to wanting Barney after his declaration that she cannot have him. This too, is not the foundation of a real, committed relationship, or the kind of person with the maturity to be in one. Robin has always been much more of an adult than Barney, and even within the heightened reality of the show, felt like more of a real person. But the version of her we've seen in the lead up to "The Final Page," presents a discomforting possibility.
Maybe these two people deserve each other. Maybe they both have such a fucked up view of what it is to want and care for and love someone that they are made to visit these types of violations of trust and of conscience upon one another again and again, in a spate of co-dependence rather than legitimate connection. Though Barney's missteps are much greater in magnitude here, both he and Robin act terribly in the lead to this mid-season finale. They mislead, don't consider the genuine happiness or well-being of the other (not to mention innocent bystanders), and above all act with wanton disregard for anyone's interests but their own. Perhaps that level of myopia leaves them unexpectedly well-matched, even if not portends a thoroughly unhealthy relationship to follow.
But that's not what How I Met Your Mother seems to want its audience to take from "The Final Page." It wants us to take this all as the act of genuine devotion rather than of hopeless narcissism, as a moment filled with true love than a reveal of psychopathology, as two people who belong together beautifully and finally joining as one than as an implausible acceptance premised on falsehood and manipulations.
This, more than any prior missteps, more than any previous faults in the characters or the plot, more than even the justifiably polarizing finale, is the moment that broke the show, that proved it had truly and fully lost whatever tenuous grasp it had on its understanding of its characters, their stories, or how love and romance work. It's the point at which we were asked to accept the product of a depraved act of betrayal and manipulation as an enviable celebration of true feeling.
There was no turning back from "The Robin." No retcons could save it, and no amount of attempted rehabilitation could rescue the show in its wake. It is the point at which How I Met Your Mother ceased to be a series that had always had a certain rom-com view of romance but which grounded it in genuine human emotion and moments of real feeling, and instead became one simply playing out the string to its unsatisfying endgame, increasingly fixated on relationships that hadn't and didn't work, and which were founded on so much betrayal -- of character, of love, of common sense -- that it could no longer have even the force that came from the years of good will and myth the series had crafted for so long. "The Final Page" is, without question, the worst thing the show ever did, and true to HIMYM's non-linear bent, its ripples are felt in both the past and the future of the show.
Back to the Howards living each other's life in the other's side of things. Finally we got each Howard confronting the other, one on one, about the faults from each other in each other's lives! That's something I've eagerly been waiting for and that dialogue did not disappoint, it was some of the best stuff Counterpart has given us, so far. Though he was right in some points, Howard Prime kept his same aggressive, self-righteous, douchebag attitude, while Howard Alpha finally showed some balls and set Howard Prime straight! Our Howard has been growing since he's crossed to the other side, and I love that.
Now that they've uncovered the school for the sleeping agents on the other side, I feel that they've forced the hand of the "resistance" (or whatever we're supposed to call them) and we should be expecting a strong backlash from them in our side, so maybe they'll be preparing a violent strike, soon...
But I really wasn't expecting Quayle to frame Howard (Alpha?) for being the mole... I sympathised with Quayle in the last episode, after him finding out he'd been played for years by his own wife, but his cowardness now was just low.
Things won't be looking good for either Howard, from now on... Which means they'll be looking great for us, the viewers!
[7.4/10] Ugh, I want to give this episode a higher score. I really do. But the Roland story is so bad. He’s never been my favorite character, but when the show relegates him to the background, he’s not so bad. But now I fear that putting him as a regular presence at the hotel is going to mean more and more of his unfunny shtick.
Case-in-point, Roland once again acts like no human being would. Bringing a mini-fridge to work, watching Erin Brockovich in the middle of the workday, and playing video games on the T.V. you were told to leave at home is just over-the-top, cartoony behavior that has zero basis in reality and, worse yet, isn’t remotely funny. There’s a decent kicker with Jocelyn explaining that she needs him out of the house and Johnny relenting, but it’s pretty meager all things considered and drags the whole episode down.
The David/Stevie/Patrick story about David being unwilling to compromise is much better on a scene-for-scene basis. It’s hard to put my finger on why, but I get such a kick out of Stevie and Patrick scheming to bust David’s eminently bust-worthy chops. In this case, tweaking his inability to compromise with the prospect of plungers and other toilet accoutrement at the front of the store. David’s facial reactions and body language when trying not to betray his utter disgust and disdain are fantastic. The fact that his ensuing rant leads to the first time he refers to Patrick as his boyfriend is a cute button to put on the whole thing, and Stevie’s in rare form.
But the most interesting story in the episode is the one with Moira, Alexis, and Twyla. Moira’s realization that she hasn’t been involved in her own daughter’s life and her fumbling attempts to rectify that nicely walk the line between endearing and comedic. The cold open, with Moira obliviously talking about Ted’s “striking” new girlfriend, is a laugh riot, and Moira’s awkward efforts to learn about her daughter and give her advice for picking up a man, are all quite funny.
They’re also very touching. For one thing, Moira’s earlier clumsy attempts to help her daughter give way to a really sweet statement that Alexis is in her prime and deserves every happiness. It speaks to how mother and daughter are on the same page with how Alexis is once again using Twyla to channel feelings she can’t express herself, and Moira uses Twyla to communicate her feelings back. I’d feel bad for poor Twyla, but she’s touched by Moira’s vicarious compliment and goes home with someone who shares her second favorite color, so surely she’s on a winning streak here anyway.
Still, the best moment is the closing one, where Moira reassures her daughter, not in so many words, that even if you have to wait a year for the right person, when you know there’s something there, it’ll still work out, because it worked out with her and Johnny, so it can work out with her and Ted. It’s the exact reassurance Alexis needs to hear right then, and it’s the perfect counterpoint to her cluelessness in the episode’s cold open.
That story does so well in the end, and the shenanigans involving the Rose Apothecary crew are amusing, but the Roland storyline is so bad that it brings the whole thing down.
This was an episode comprised of three stories from three of the show's most significant characters. One was great; one was good; one was godawful, all for different reasons. Let's take them in turn.
Saul's storyline was tremendous, and much of it has to do with the direction and cinematography of the episode. Mandy Patinkin certainly held up his end of the bargain, but the way his scenes were structured really elucidated Saul's paranoia without having to be more explicit about it. The way the camera seemed to be spying on him (a technique the show would employ in its first season) sold Saul's feeling cornered and needing to do something risky and/or desperate. I also appreciated how he gave Carrie the kiss off at the beginning of the episode, but that what he was experiencing gave him reason to believe her. Straining the relationship between your two most significant characters and then bringing them back together is an old trick, but they're doing the legwork to make it plausible and compelling. At the same time, it was nice to see Saul using those spy skills again, from downloading the documents after creating a diversion, to slipping During the drive without his CIA tail being able to catch on. Great stuff.
Carrie's storyline was only OK, but it was heightened tremendously, as always, by Claire Daines's acting. Whatever they are paying Daines, it isn't enough, because in scenes where her character is lonely or isolated or desperate or blindsided, the written dialogue does her no favors -- full of cliches and weak lines -- but she sells in her reading of those lines, in the pained or blindsided or wistful expressions that show she's at the end of her rope, and in the way she carries herself that lets the audience buy into her situation. She's succeeding in a herculean task on that front, and it elevates the material.
The Quinn storyline, however, was ridiculous, in a bad way. I realize that any show, especially one involving spycraft, is going to require a certain amount of willing suspension of disbelief, and a tolerance for things working out just as they need to for the plot to move along. But my god, a nearly-mortally wounded Quinn being rescued by a random good samaritan who just so happens to be flatmates with a terrorist who was released because of the very documents that Carrie is so worked up over and revealed Saul's plan with the Germans? That just strains plausibility too far. It's far too convenient as a plot development, and Quinn overhearing a terrorist plot, and then becoming the Pirate King by killing the terrorist guy in a final showdown rumble at the end of the episode was just too cartoonish for me to bear. Really hacky stuff. I don't know where they're going with all of this, but it had better be good to justify this level of B.S.
After the impressive work done earlier this season introducing us to the Vidiians in 'Phage', this manages to undo all of it and turn them into pathetic villains of the week. There's no threat or menace from any of them, let alone the sympathetic factor and they've become as beige as everything else on the show.
Roxanne Dawson does make the episode watchable with a great performance as the human version of B'Elanna. It's telling that she's the most interesting she's ever been, and shows what a crap job the writers are doing with her in her regular form. Klingon B'Elanna is unfortunately very one-note and forgettable.
I think part of the problem is that we barely know normal B'Elanna at this point, and it's far too early in the series to do an episode that changes a character so much without us understanding the changes.
Durst does meet a very nasty end which is a bit shocking. I'm also impressed that the second Talaxian we meet manages to be just as annoying as Neelix.
Chakotay is as helpful as ever. His friend B'Elanna, having an emotional crisis, confides in him. Better reassure her that she can count on you for support. Yes, looks like he's got some helpful words to say... oh, no wait, he's given up and is walking away. Oh wait, he's stopped and turned around! He must have thought of something good now! ...oh, no. He's just leaving again. Bravo.
The mirror universe, established in The Original Series, is a place that really makes no sense, but I always looked forward to these crazy episodes. The cast get to play with their characters in extreme ways, sometimes being the complete opposite of what they usually are.
If you stop and think too much, then it seems ridiculous that the counterparts of all these people are in the same places doing similar things. It doesn't really make sense that any of them would have been born at all. But these episodes are meant to be fun, so just go with it.
DS9's first trip to the other side very briefly fills us in on some details. Kirk influenced Mirror Spock who eventually rose to take command of the Terran Empire and preached a message of peace. That allowed the Empire's enemies to destroy them and a Klingon-Cardassian Alliance has now enslaved humanity.
This would actually be nothing more than an okay episode if not for Nana Visitor. Her performance as the Intendent is irresistible, she dials everything up to 11 and just steals the show (her delivery of the line "QUI-ET!" to Bashir is a total joy), and the special effects in scenes with the two of her are a big step up from similar stuff seen on TNG, it's near flawless. Mirror Odo gets to be evil and happy, Sisko is a crazy but depressed pirate and O'Brien is... pretty much himself but just downtrodden.
Quark is one of the real surprises, he seems to be brave and kind of heart. The mirror universe also allows for main characters to be killed off, so he doesn't stick around too long. The opening scene seems to undo all the maturing that Doctor Bashir has done over the past season as he's arrogant and oblivious again, but it's funny.
A good return to this world, though a bit restrained and unimaginative.
Westworld at its best. I missed the feeling of ending an episode and seeing the confused looked on my face reflected in the black screen, followed by the words "What? Did it... What...Holy crop! Now, that was amazing!" It varies from one episode to another, but the outcome is always the same. This show is a freaking masterpiece. I love the feeling of starting a new episode and finishing it with more questions than answers and an urge to rewatch it as soon as possible.
The hosts run the show now, and we've got a badass Dolores. The music, that shot, that amazing Dolores riding a horse and shooting. That scene gave me life. And poor Teddy! I love him. I thought he was gonna survive the episode but he didn't. First death of Teddy in season 2. I loved that scene when he talked with Dolores. It made me realize that he's either going to die at her hands, or rebel against her.
I loved the change of heroes and villains from last season to this one. Last season Dolores was the hero and faced William, whereas in this one, it seems it's William the hero who has to defeat Dolores. I liked that the game is finally meant for him. At least he got what he has long been waiting for. Now it's not a maze, but a door to get out. Interesting. I loved Mini Ford, although I wasn't expecting William to shoot him, though.
Maeve controlling the other hosts was amazing. I love her chemistry with Hector. These two are made for one another. And of course Sizemore survived by being the weasel he is. I liked his subtlety, though "May some of them even be dressed as if they're human?" and his "I wrote that line for you".
Poor Bernard was killing me. That poor thing is just going through a roller-coaster of conflicted feelings. He mentioned time slippery and other problems. It'll be interesting to see him in the three timelines they created.
So we got Bernard right after the shooting with Charlotte; Bernard in the beach with Stubbs (wonder how he escaped the Ghost Nation) and Floki (I mean, Karl Strand) apparently 11 days and 9 hours after the shooting; and Bernardino some time in between (when he talked to Dolores at the beginning of the episode). So far, three clear timelines in which something happened that needs to be filled in since poor Bernard apparently killed all the hosts.
Last season I hoped Ford could still be alive but I guess maggots mean real death now, so that there no question on that.
Cinematography was on point, even better than last season, dialogue was perfect and the acting, especially Jeffrey Right's was beyond amazing. I loved that they gave Charlotte more screen time. I didn't like her character last season, but it was great to see her more. Also, they're taking guests' DNA? That seems crazy. And we get the promise of getting Peter Abernathy back. Boy, I loved his character. Was it me, or did anyone else get uncomfortable every time that faceless host was on screen? It was disturbing.
I don't want to miss the new intro. Loved the symbolism. So season one was all about creation but now it seems different. Now it's not about creation anymore but as a step forward. Now it's not milk as it was last season, it's all about water and infancy, as if water were the second element in life. Hosts are now perfected in this second phase. I loved that we got the introduction of new animals as the vulture, that bear, and that tiger. And they mentioned Park 6! I wonder when we're seeing all of them.
Charlotte also mentioned that Westworld is on an island, which I though was interesting. Now let's see how all the gaps are filled and what else the writers have in mind for us. Next week's promo looks promising.
[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?
[7.1/10] What a weird finale. I guess the show wanted to save most of its pure sentiment for the prior episode, and let this one be mostly a wackier showcase with a few grace notes. I can respect the approach, but the execution was...strange.
Let’s start with the obvious. A happy ending? On the day of the wedding? And we’re treating it like some typical wacky sitcom occurrence? As David himself might say -- what the fuck? This is such a weird storyline, and maybe I’m just a prude, but I feel like someone having sexual contact with a stranger on the day of their wedding, whatever the implausible mix-up over it may be, should be a big serious deal and not some zany T.V. misunderstanding that gets cutely mentioned in one’s vows. I assumed the whole thing was a prank at first, because it’s a ludicrous and downright odd plot point to throw in at the eleventh hour.
On a lesser note, in what world would Alexis wear white to her brother’s wedding when she’s giving him away? Even assuming she would be oblivious or malevolent to want to draw focus, you’re telling me that David wouldn’t have vetted her dress seventy-eight times before the big day? Again, it’s wacky and just plain weird.
This is also a fairly formless episode. Nominally, everything is building to the nuptials, but there’s little structure or progression to it, more of just a hodgepodge of different scenes that have little to do with one another up to that point. Theoretically, you have the conflict of the outdoor wedding being rained out, but that becomes a pretty mild hurdle pretty quickly.
Despite that, there’s a lot of nice individual moments here. I like Alexis having the epiphany that the Roses losing their money was, ultimately, a good thing that nudged them to grow and made them better people. Her embrace of her mom and drinking in that this will be the last time they’ll all be together like this is really sweet. While my wife would probably have killed me if I tried to sing 90s pop during my vows, I like Patrick singing a snippet of Mariah Carey for David, not to mention the Jazzagals’ vocal rendition of “Simply the Best.” I like Johnny walking Stevie down the aisle and kissing her on the forehead, a nice bit of symbolism for the paternal relationship they’ve developed over the course of the show. I like David telling Alexis how consistently impressed by her he is. These moments have little to do with one another, but they’re all very nice.
Most of all I like Moira’s material here. Granted, her pope getup is a little too out there for my tastes, but your mileage may vary. But she’s more or less the only character in this episode with an arc. More than any member of the family, she’s been the most anxious and unwavering about wanting to leave Schitt’s Creek. Throughout the victory lap that is this day, she’s resisted being sentimental about the wedding or about leaving. But when she’s up in front of everyone, she melts more than a little, affirming that the fickle winds of life can lead you to unexpected places, but that she is, against her own judgment, grateful and touched that they brought the Rose family here in the company of so many wonderful people. It’s as fine a final statement and summation the show could possibly make, with the added power of it coming from arguably the show’s least sentimental main character.
So there’s hugs and final goodbyes and drives off into the sunset. It ends on a goofy note, with the Roses having been added to the town sign, in a bit that may cheekily be the culmination of people saying that it looks like David and Alexis are a married couple given her dress. Shrug.
In the end, Schitt’s Creek died as it lived: a show with unexpected heart and character growth that buoyed it even in lean times, but whose comedy was hit or miss, ranging from the undeniably hilarious to broad sitcom wackiness. It’s one of those series that I’m glad to have watched, but which I don’t think is going to stick with me the way some of my favorites have.
That’s because it felt like it could never seem to get all of its pieces working at the same time. When David was having real growth and development, Alexis was mired in romcom drama. When Alexis was changing as a person, David had more or less hit his limit and was playing out the string in his character arc. Johnny could be wrapped up with Stevie in ambitious projects and a warm quasi-parental relationship, or swallowed up by the usual dose of Roland’s crap. And Moira always had the strength of Catherine O’Hara’s performance, but the show didn’t always know what to do with her on a long term basis.
Season 3 is the closest Schitt’s Creek came to really firing on all cylinders, and seasons 2 and 5 hit some real high points as well. But you could also feel the show running out of gas or not being sure where to go with various characters during its run.
Still, I will also remember the show’s best moments, particularly its slow transformation of the Roses from high society snobs who disdained this place to better people who were grateful for what it gave to them and spurred within them. I’ll remember the particularly great comedy when that emerged when you could get all four Roses in the same room (and if Stevie’s there too, all the better). And I’ll remember its overall gentleness, the way it was easy to watch in bunches given its lightness and warmth. As both something of a throwback and a very modern sitcom, Schitt’s Creek was a bit of an odd duck, but also one worth stopping by the water to see.
I didn't expect this show to be that good. Indeed the first episode I was kinda meh about it. Now, 7-8 episodes in, I'm loving it. The characters are complicated. Pretty much no one is doing anything that they want to be doing. People are acting in ways that make logical sense for the most part, with the occasional "really?" (but those don't happen to often, and sometimes even the characters will comment on how that seemed a bit weird). They all have their motivations, and those motivations are driving them to do what they think is right. Even at this point, it's not clear exactly who the good guys are, or the bad guys (aside from the aliens, who, thankfully, we haven't even seen). Good scifi makes a point about our current systems, our current forms of governance. This show shows how you can collect all the data you want by spying on people, when it comes down to it, those who are really going to be a "problem" will evade such nets, rendering all that spying, all that surveillance, completely moot (and a waste of resources), at the same time showing how that surveillance is great if you want to weed out the obvious people that may cause you problems, if the entity doing the weeding is clearly a bad guy. It shows how even if you have the best of intentions, shit can and will go sideways (whether you're in government, or opposing, whatever side you believe yourself to be on). Even though we're not sure what the aliens want, it shows that divide and conquer is a pretty much universal strategy, one we continue to employ against ourselves.
It's not perfect, but it's pretty damn good.
Man, I missed this, although actually I don't know how to feel about it. I certainly expected more after this three-week hiatus. But any episode with Lena Luthor is a good episode. It was a bit light, but it had some great things. I freaking love the way Lena knocked out Beth like, listen bitch, I'm a Luthor. I love her character. I don't really want her to be bad,but I feel like we're attending to the evil turning of Lena, like the origin of evil Lena. I love this Clark and Lex vibe going with Kara and Lena. I'm assuming she doesn't know Kara is Supergirl, and that is what will drive Lena to the edge. She's gonna be so pissed and hurt and although at the end she could understand it, my spidey senses tell me she's gonna be mad at Kara and thus, her villain origin story begins.
I also loved that the intro of this episode finally makes sense. I mean, Kara hasn't been a reporter for a long while and now she turned the page. Snapper is not Cat but I like the guy. His last conversation with Kara at the end was fantastic. And his line about not starting a food truck was hilarious.
The Lyra stuff, on the other hand, was kinda boring. You already know how it is gonna end before it starts. I love seeing Winn being happy with her and the writers giving everyone who works for the DEO having a backstory. But Lyra really seems legitimately crazy. I don't go them to go full on psycho crazy girlfriend.
Kara and Mon-El were great today. He's a funny sidekick with a lot of potential and this is the right amount of screen time he needs, enough not to make me hate him again. For once, Mon-El was more than a pretty face and was actually there to help Kara, despite his adorkability and awkwardness. Non-relationship scenes are the ones I enjoy with him and Kara. "This is creepy journalism". I loved that line.
And that Jack Shpeer is a handsome motherfucker. Man, I get he's Lena's krytonite.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[8.4/10] I have to be real -- about halfway through this episode I was hating it. It seemed like we were headed for the hackiest, wackiest, sitcom-y finale imaginable. Johnny fumbles the ball on his anniversary with Moira only to run into the Schitt’s after brushing them off! Alexis’s ex-fiancee tells her about a party being held by her other ex that she wasn’t invited to, which she crashes, only to run into Mutt’s new girlfriend! David and Stevie compete for the affections of the same guy after needling one another about high school dating prowess! It’s all so broad and dumb that I figured this season, for all the good work it’s done, was headed for a crash landing.
Instead, it soared from that point on. I don’t know if this was some kind of intentional feint, to lure the audience into thinking that the show was up to its old tricks and going for the cheap seats, but instead it pivoted toward something real and even touching in pretty much every storyline as it closes out its second season.
The Stevie/David bit is probably the least of them. David mainly got his major growth moment in the last episode, so it’s fine that his bit here is more of a lark. Frankly, their competing for the same guy, with it not being clear whether/if he was interested in both of them or just David felt more like a setup for season 3 than anything super relevant to the present moment. But it still positions them as friendly but combative after all they’ve been through, so I dug it, even if it wasn’t my favorite part of the episode.
But I did really like where they went with Alexis. I assumed that her meeting Tennessee, Mutt’s new girlfriend, was going to revert her back to (1.) offering her passive-aggressive compli-sults and (2.) compensate by hooking up with Ted again despite the fact that the poor guy’s been through enough. The episode started to head that direction, only to pull back and do something much better.
Instead of this experience being cause for backsliding in Alexis, it becomes another chance for her to grow and, most importantly, to develop her empathy. Instead of just feeling sorry for herself given the impact that seeing Mutt with someone else has on her, she realizes how shitty it must have been for Ted to go through that and asks him how he deals with it. He answers that he wasn’t okay, that he cried a lot and that it took him a long time, but that he eventually just got through it. Aleixs understands and even apologizes, and it’s a really sweet and human moment from someone who could be the show’s most cartoonish character (give or take Roland).
And yet, Roland factors into the episode’s crowning moment. I love the impromptu dinner party scene, where the Roses run into their wealthy former friends who just so happen to be passing through Elmdale. The Roses initially try to puff up their current living situation and laugh along with their old friends trashing Schitt’s Creek. They’re embarrassed at their current station and want to seem like they can still fit in with their former moneyed cohort, something especially tricky once Roland and Jocelyn show up.
The Schitt family are incredibly good sports about the whole thing, even as the rich visitors trash their town and even the restaurant they’re so excited to get to dine at. Eventually though, Johnny has had enough. He excoriates his former pals, declaring that for however much these interlopers think themselves above Schitt’s Creek, they’re shitty friends who left the Roses high and dry. Meanwhile the Schitts may not be terribly refined, but have been beyond generous with our refugees from the world of wealth.
I’m not sure there’s been a more heartening moment in this show than Johnny declaring that Schitt’s Creek is their home. It’s a vindication of the fact that however much the Roses may yearn for their more financially secure and, let’s face it, spoiled life, they’re increasingly realizing how equally hollow and shallow that life, and the people in it, were. While life in Schitt’s Creek is unquestionably harder, it’s also full of more genuine people, who are rough around the edges and have their eccentricities and blind spots as well, but who have done a great deal to welcome the Roses into their homes and lives despite the fact that the Roses themselves haven’t been the most gracious guests in the world.
And yet, they are trying and they have gotten better and they have fully and finally accepted themselves as a part of this place. (At least until the next finale-needed conflict arises.) There’s something incredibly sweet about the closing scene at Mutt’s party, where the Roses and the Schitt’s and their various friends and acquaintances all come and dance together. They affirm their love for one another. They join in the bonds of friendship and celebration and, subtly, the fact that they’ve become better people through all of this. That’s a hell of a way to end given where this one started.
You could say the same for season 2 as a whole. This year of the show started out pretty weak, with a string of rough episodes that made me wonder if the show had missed its mark. But while there were still bumps in the road, the show committed to depicting growth in each of the Roses over the course of these thirteen episodes, and earned this great finish in the process.
(As an aside, I loved the cold open with Johnny trying to cajole the kids into wishing their mom a happy anniversary, citing the neighboring Bloomfield family as a model, only for Alexis and David to suggest that the Bloomfields were a little too cozy. Their faux-sincere congrats for Moira, and her response that the kids were starting to sound like those weird “incestuous Bloomfields” was a hilarious punchline. One place where the show definitely stepped up its game in season 2 was the great cold opens!)
This show has a weird quality that makes us keep coming back doesn't it? I re-watched the last 3 episodes of last season and holy crap how sucky was that? Makes me think why I even bother with this show. But here we are for the new season...maybe it's the completely untapped potential that keeps making us come back. But anyway, some points:
I thought the start was good. Amell seems a bit more relaxed now that he didn't have to play the ultra dark and brooding Arrow from last season. I appreciated the little suburb segment. It was a nice change of pace. I remember an episode from Chuck that did the same, but to greater effect. The truck segment was not so good. After 5 months the 3 of them should've figured it out but it felt sloppy. At least Thea was entertaining.
Neal Mcdonough was instantly better as a villain than the dude that played Ra's was all season. Right amount of cynicism and evil. Great. Having a great villain is a good step in the right direction. Although I didn't quite understand the plot to kill the city council members. It really just felt like they needed an action sequence again. sigh
The team arrow reunion was OK I guess. I specially liked Oliver interrogating Felicity about her activities on the last 5 months. The show could use more stuff like that. BTW, I haven't minded Katie Cassidy as the Canary for a while now, but I think she could turn the intensity down just a notch. Every line seems just so damn urgent all the time.
Then most of the rest of the episode was the same old of tracking down and resolving the current crisis which to me felt like the weakest part, not to mention the various mistakes they made like Diggle driving the car, Oliver jumping on the train and then Diggle magically appearing to help? WTF!? Also how sure was Oliver that only the last 3 wagons of the train were carrying the bomb? Because that's all that he stopped. And if that was it, a train without breaks is still a problem, but hey, who cares? The bomb exploded. And for something that was supposed to be a step down from a nuke, it looked pretty weak.
The final parts were really dumb though. It seems like they thought: "Hey, let's throw a bunch of crazy things here and then we can explore them as the season goes on." Problem is, this being Arrow, some of these plots will change completely by episode 3. The Green Arrow announcement was ultra stupid, Lance siding with Darkh makes little sense and the funeral was just a bad idea. That could've been done to more effect on a different episode I think. Plus who are they going to kill? I guess Felicity is the most obvious choice, but if that's her and that's the reaction from Barry Allen then they f*cked up. My vote would be for Thea, Diggle or Lyla. They can't kill Laurel anyway. The casket seemed short as well, but again, I doubt they'll even remember that when the decision time comes.
Now let's see where they go with all this. I remember the first couple of episodes last season were really good, but then the quality dropped off dramatically. If they want me back on their good graces, that can't happen again.
Final arrows:
So, we are finally coming back to the island on the flashbacks. That's good. Last season was terrible.
I like that Thea will have to deal with the Lazarus Pit effect. Wonder if they'll be consistent and tackle that with Sarah as well when the time comes.
"Felicity Smoak, you've failed this omelet."
"Ra's stabbed her right over there"; "Oh."; "We can get a rug!"
"Dude! Nice reflexes!"
[Edit] THIS MOVIE IS 3 HOURS LONG???? THREE HOURS???? Dear god one hour felt like an ETERNITY in the theater.
Unfortunately walked out because I got overstimulated cause it was a lot louder than expected, and also really fucking boring.
Visually stunning movie. Absolutely gorgeous. The effects done in camera, the cinematography, the acting, everything is just so much fun to look at. Christopher Nolan knows how to make a damn good looking movie. Hats off to the team that made this thing.
But writing wise... damn, it underperformed.
Other commenters mentioned that this feels like a Wikipedia entry or a montage of 60 second clips, and damn they are right. The writing just did. not. hit. It was hard to follow any of Oppenheimer's personal life and to actually feel anything for him or any of the people in his life. I don't expect a movie to hold my hand. But I do expect pace to be managed well and to have a bit of breathing room to be able to process stuff. This did not give you the time to do it lmao.
Also the characters just... didn't interact in an engaging way. Less than 20 minutes into the movie I was already checking my watch to see how much more of this I had to sit through! I didn't know half of the characters' names, or half of their relationships to each other, or why they were even relevant. Like the best example of this is Oppy and Einstein's interactions. They have beef, but it's hard to understand why? There's like... two interactions before the one hour mark that total less than a minute of on-screen time together. Einstein gets a few words in there and it's just very very unclear why they hate each other, or how they met, or what any of their background is. It's confusing!
Also let's talk about Oppenheimer's motivations. As a literal communist, I should empathize with Oppy and understand where he's coming from. But I don't! Because he's a fucking idiot! When he's talking with other leftists, he mentions "Isn't ownership theft?" and the person in the communist party is like "It's property, actually" and he's like "Well sorry I read all three volumes of Capital in original German" and he's like... just a dick??? But also no fucking leftist who is going around having read all three volumes of Capital talks about that shit! That's just dumb! And the entirety of his leftist politics are portrayed in a way that make him look like an egotistical maniac with dumb politics! One minute he's starting a union and pro-labor, another minute he's dropping all of that in order to be a dog of the US government! There's obviously an enormous jump happening there. Like something very, very clearly and very, very majorly changed for Oppenheimer there, and the film spends a grand total of 30 seconds in a single scene having him transition from brilliant labor activist to US government dog.
Also there are time jumps! Lots of them! The choice to jump back and forth between the McCarthyist interrogations of Oppenheimer and the past do. not. make. sense. They are hard to follow, extraordinarily boring, and absolutely ruin any sort of pacing the movie might have! There are several points in this movie where Oppenheimer starts to be fleshed out a bit more as a character or starts to be given more space for us to see what he's really like. And then it's randomly cut off and flashed forward to these utterly irrelevant black-and-white interviews. Oppenheimer has a leftist past! Of course he does! The movie literally shows us that! And instead of just telling things in a regular narrative way, the movie splits things up confusingly for absolutely no good fucking reason, and ends up showing us and telling us the same information twice! That is shit writing! If you cut all of these scenes you would be missing nothing from the movie, and you'd have more time to actually tell us about the characters, instead of them feeling like one-dimensional caricatures.
I don't know any of Oppenheimer's history, and I left this not understanding any more of it! I left after an hour because it felt like two and a half because it was just this firehose of information. And Nolan didn't present it in a way that actually made a story! He just shat this all out on the screen (and it's a beautiful shit, don't get me wrong!!), and expected the audience to love it! His characters are one-dimensional, they aren't given the space, the motivations, or the background really for us to understand where they're coming from or why they do what they do. And that ends up with this being a visually stunning but really fucking boring movie that I just walked out of because I couldn't take it anymore lol.
I cannot stand seeing visually gorgeous movies produced by people who clearly have god-level talent that seem to have a complete and utter inability to get the basics of movie-making, story, correct! I have ADHD. For a lot of people, sitting through a boring movie is just boring. For me, it is exhausting. It is excruciating. I can't fidget in a movie theater, I can't move, I can't pause the movie and come back later when I'm feeling more focused. And so if a movie is boring, I just leave! And it is so fucking annoying to miss out on a chance to see a movie that is, outside of its story, fucking beautiful because its director and writer couldn't do the extremely basic job of making a movie that holds people's interest and communicates things in even a slightly clear way. God what a waste.
My favourite episode so far, and the first truly strong episode of Voyager. This is thanks to a powerful plot that allows characters to act very genuinely, and allows viewers to become truly invested. And best of all, NO NEELIX!
Janeway and Kim are the heart of this episode, both of them being very eager for things to work out. It allows us to see the deep longing they have to just get back home, with Harry especially prepared to throw caution to the wind. The captain is more level headed but we can see how much it hurts her that things don't work out. The b-plot with the Doctor is equally as strong, finally acknowledging that he's a member of the crew. It was probably a good (and very deliberate) decision for the show to treat the Doctor as a real person, because if we really stop and think about it, it's ridiculous that the Doctor has any emotions or feelings. He isn't there, he's just a light projection and isn't a person at all, but it's very important that we all believe he's real.
And "things not working out" is what we have to expect: this is a 1990s television show, so it's obvious that any hope that the crew have of getting back home before the series finale is never going to work out. The episode allows us to suspend our disbelief by letting us get caught up in the emotions of the moment, the hope that everyone begins to feel.
And what a great twist: that the Romulan scientist they've been communicating with is actually from 20 years in the past! It adds yet another layer to this wonderfully flowing tale.
