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Barbenheimer: Part 1 of 2

This is the kind of film I really don’t want to criticize, because we don’t get nearly enough other stuff like it. However, mr. Nolan has been in need of an intervention for a while now, and unfortunately all of the issues that have been plaguing his films since The Dark Knight Rises show up to some degree here. Visually it might just be his best film, and there’s some tremendous acting in here, particularly by Murphy and RDJ. However, it makes the common biopic mistake of treating its subject matter like a Wikipedia entry, thereby not focussing enough on character and perspective. As a whole, the film feels more like a long extended montage, I don’t think there are many scenes that go on for longer than 60 seconds. There’s a strong ‘and then this happened, and then this happened’ feel to it, which definitely keeps up the pace, but it refuses to stop and let an emotion or idea simmer for a while. There are moments where you get a look into Oppenheimer’s mind, but because the film wants to cover too much ground, it’s (like everything else) reduced to quick snippets. It’s the kind of approach that’d work for a 6 hour long miniseries where you can spend more time with the characters, not for a 3 hour film. I can already tell that I won’t retain much from this, in fact a lot of it is starting to blur together in my mind. There are also issues with some of the dialogue and exposition, such as moments where characters who are experts in their field talk in a way that feels dumbed down for the audience, or just straight up inauthentic. Einstein is given a couple of cheesy lines, college professors and students interact in a way that would never happen, Oppenheimer gives a lecture in what’s (according to the movie) supposed to be Dutch when it’s really German; you have to be way more careful with that when you’re making a serious drama. Finally, there are once again major issues with the sound mixing. I actually really loved the score, but occasionally it’s blaring at such a volume where it drowns out important dialogue in the mix. I’m lucky enough to have subtitles, but Nolan desperately needs to get his ears checked, or maybe he should’ve asked some advice from Benny Safdie since he’s pretty great with experimental sound mixing. My overall feelings are almost identical to the ones I had regarding Tenet; Nolan needs to rethink his approach to writing, editing and mixing. This film as a whole doesn’t work, but there are still more than a few admirable qualities to it.

Edit: I rewatched this at home to see whether my feeling would change. I still stand by what I wrote in July, though the sound mix seems to have been improved for the home media release. It sounds more balanced and I didn’t miss one line of dialogue this time around. I’m slightly raising my score because of that, but besides that I still think it’s unfocused, overedited, awkwardly staged and scripted etc.

5.5/10

Something like this comment was originally a reply to @Pedro, but I thought I'd put it here.

This show starts a little slow. It does that thing where the first few episodes are your typical boring cop procedural to show the network they know how to paint by numbers. Then it picks up.

It starts actually exploring the morals of mass surveillance, and (minor spoilers) it turns out the Machine is an AI, and they deal with all the interesting ramifications of living in a world secretly run by a benevolent(?) AI. One of the nice aspects of this show is the only fictional element of the Machine is software. Makes for a very grounded science fiction.

The characters start to deal with total corruption of the police system and attempt to take it down, meanwhile learning and redeeming themselves from their dubious past.

They also deal with taking down organised crime, and what to do when someone tries to consolidate power within the families, even though the new boss is less violent.

They get caught up in vast government conspiracies waging massive secret intelligence wars, and must stop innocent people from getting killed while remaining hidden from powerful people.

Heartbreak, romance, homoerotic sexual tension, SciFi, shooting people, explosions!

They stop making another cop show and start making some really compelling television.

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.

Brace yourselves, dear viewers, for this episode will undoubtedly spark heated debates among fans. Some will love it, while others will loathe it—much like the game itself.

The Last of Us ends with a masterful coup de grâce, cementing this adaptation's place in the pantheon of prestige television.

It is sombre and dark yet replete with emotions that run deep. Joel, at long last, becomes a man of action. Whether his actions are morally defensible, however, is a subject of endless debate.

Staying true to the game, this episode does not falter in its execution, boasting a master-stroke opening that sets the stage for a gripping narrative to unfold. The strategic use of a flashback adds layers of complexity to already richly-wrought characters, serving as a catalyst for some of the most poignant dialogue between Joel and Ellie to date—dialogue sure to leave the audience teary-eyed.

The action is far from glorified, leaving viewers in a state of visceral shock and awe. The last couple of episodes have served to do some fantastic work for Joel, and this episode is the proverbial cherry on top, truly a beautiful and profound culmination of his character arc. Indeed, the show is a thing of beauty, but beauty that is shrouded in darkness.

Were a flaw to be ascribed, it would be that of brevity. At a mere 40 minutes, the finale feels curtailed. The absence of the Cordyceps is understandable, given the laser-focused narrative, though it marks a deviation from the source material.

By turns harrowing and humane, towering and intimate, this finale buries its hooks deeply in the viewer, capping off a brilliant maiden season. Love it or loathe it, impassioned discourse will assuredly abound in the wake of this uncompromising conclusion to the first chapter of The Last of Us.

01x09 - Look for the Light: 8.5/10 (Great)

Set aside the last few minutes of the finale for a moment. That last little reveal changes the shape of the episode, and the series, in significant and meaningful ways that make it easy to let it overshadow the rest of the episode. But stop and think about everything that happens here before the scene where he finally meets The Mother.

Because it is, at best, a mixed bag, long before we see the blue french horn again.

I understand the urge to give the audience some idea of what happens to the gang between 2014 and 2030. The problem is that covering a decade and a half in one big episode makes every story feel rushed and underdeveloped. One of the great things about HIMYM is how it used the past and the future to inform the present. Jumping back and forth between a prior conversation and a current one could be the crux of a joke, as could Future Ted's knowing commentary on some boneheaded mistake or unexpected development that was coming down the pipe. But those time jumps weren't just fodder for comedy, as the show did a great job of creating dramatic irony and emotional stakes by showing what lie ahead or the path that led us here. But by compressing fifteen years worth of life developments into an hour, nothing has time to really breathe or feel like it has the temporal scope the show is shooting for.

After all, there's a great story to be told about the gang drifting apart over the years. Another one of the series's best features is the way it combines the exaggerated goofiness of its comedic sensibilities with real, relatable aspects of being in your twenties and thirties. Well, one of the things that hits you once you start to move past that stage of your life is the way that friends, even good friends, can slowly drift apart, not through neglect or anger or hurt feelings, but just because you're suddenly at different places in your life. That's an idea worth exploring.

The problem is that the rush of years in "Last Forever" makes this process feel like something sudden instead of gradual. Sure, we see the chyron at the bottom of the screen showing that we've jumped ahead a year or two, and there's a boatload of semi-clunky expositional dialogue in the episode to let the viewer know where everyone is in their lives and what they're up to, but when all those developments take place over the course of just a few minutes and just a few scenes, it can't help but seem very fast.

One of the best choices HIMYM's creators made in the final season was to parcel out little scenes of the gang's future throughout, giving us a glimpse of what the future held without trying to pack it all into one big episode like this. Sprinkling those flashforwards in did a nice job at making the group's future feel as well-populated as its present and its past. Obviously there were limitations on how much they could do this in prior episodes given the reveals in store for Barney and Robin and Ted, but the method the show chose to relay the gang's future almost inevitably leaves it feeling too quick, too underdeveloped, and too unsatisfying, even apart from the directions the individual stories go.

Those plot developments, however, are another albatross around the finale's neck. The first and most obvious problem comes from Barney and Robin's divorce. Again, there's a legitimate story to be told of two people who care deeply for one another, but don't work as a couple, but it's a difficult story to tell in five minutes, especially when you've spent huge chunks the past season and a half trying to convince the audience that they make sense together. As someone who's been a Barney and Robin skeptic from the beginning, it's entirely plausible to me that the two of them could mean well and have real feelings for one another, but still end up divorced due to some basic incompatibilities. But the reason for their split feels thin here.

There's nothing we know about Barney that suggests globetrotting would be something he's so against. And while there's hints of bigger issues between the two of them, like not getting to see one another or not being on the same page about their respective plans and projects, we never really get to see these problems develop. We're just told about them, and expected to accept that as enough to break them up one episode removed their wedding. Is that result plausible enough based on what we know about Barney and Robin? Sure, but it's just presented to us, rather than developed before our eyes, and since we don't see their path from pledging to spend the rest of their lives together to getting divorced, that end point feels like it happens by fiat rather than something the show earned.

Barney's reversion afterward is just as unsatisfying. Again, there's a believable story about Barney having worked so hard to become a better person, in part to woo Robin, and reverting to his old tricks as a retreat and defense mechanism when his marriage falls apart. But because of the rapidity with which the finale goes from Point A to Point B, it doesn't feel like the natural result of a difficult event; it feels like throwing nine years of character development down the drain in less than a minute. There's a disparity between how much time the show spent building Barney up as more than just an cartoonish hound dog and how much time it spends showing him reverting to his old persona. That cannot help but feel jarring.

What kills me is that I love where they take Barney in "Last Forever." There's something beautiful about the idea that what really changes him isn't some conquest or accomplishment or even a great romance; it's becoming a father. For Barney, "The One" isn't a woman he'll meet some day; it's his daughter, and Neil Patrick Harris delivers a tremendous performance in the scene where he repeats his Ted-like plea, this time to his baby girl. It's a wonderful scene, but the path the episode takes to get there still comes off as a shortcut that has to ignore seasons of character development in order to make it work.

The finale isn't all bad though. While the story of the gang drifting apart is too quick, the scene where they all reunite for Ted's wedding is legitimately touching and full of the good will and warm feelings that the show's been able to generate during its run. Ted and Tracy (I can use her name now!) continue to be adorable together, and the twist that romantic Ted made it five years and two kids into his relationship before he actually married The Mother is a small but effective way to show how much the substance of finding The One was more important to him than the formality of it (even if he was planning on a European castle). It's one of those lived-in details that speaks to his character.

Beyond that, the actual meeting of The Mother is very well done, and it really had to be. Sure, there's a few meetcute cliches involved, but the easy rapport between Ted and Tracy soars once again and nearly saves the entire finale. After all, this was the moment the "Last Forever" had to nail, and it did. Ted and Tracy's conversation weaves in enough of the yellow umbrella mythos for everything to click, and Joshua Radnor and Cristin Miloti both sell the subtle realization that this is something special. For an episode that had to make good on the promise of its title, that meeting went about as well as any fan of the show might have hoped for.

And if the series had ended there, everyone might have gone home happy. Sure, the other problems with the rushed and shortcut-filled finale might have rankled a bit (particularly the way it undoes the wedding we'd just witnessed), but making that moment feel as big and as meaningful as it needed to after all that build up is no small feat, and that alone would have bought Bays & Thomas a hell of a lot of slack.

Frankly, the series could have still gotten away with Tracy dying shortly thereafter, another controversial choice in the finale. There's something tragic but beautiful about the audience watching Ted seek out the woman of his dreams for nine years and then realizing that he only gets to be with her for the same amount of time, while still cherishing and being thankful for the time the two of them had, for that connection and love that was wonderful and worth it no matter how all too brief it may have been. There's a touching theme about the fragility of things in that story, but also about the joy that comes from finding the person you love, that stays with you even after they're gone. It's sad, but it's sweet, in the best HIMYM way.

And then there's Robin.

The decision to pair up Ted and Robin in the last moments of the finale is as tone-deaf and tin-eared an ending as you're likely to find in a major television program, and the reasons abound. The most obvious is that the show devoted so much time to the idea of Ted getting over Robin, and had any number of episodes (the most recent being the execrable "Sunrise") where Ted seemed to have achieved that, to have moved on in his life. Folks like me may try to handwave it, and the show can call back to the premiere of Season 7 where Ted and Robin can declare that all you need for love is chemistry and timing, but at base, Ted and Robin getting together feels like it contradicts so much about the two characters' relationship with one another over the years. So much of the final third of the show involved going over the same beats between Ted and Robin over and over again, of having each move past the other, and coming back to them in the final, despite how iconic that blue french horn has become for the show, just feels like another poorly-established cheat or retcon that isn't in sync with where the show went since that finale was crafted in Season 2.

What's worse is that that ending transforms the story Ted's been telling from a heartwarming if irreverent yarn about the path that led to him meeting the love of his life, to a smokescreen to gain his kids' approval for dating an old flame after their mother's death. Look, to some degree you have to accept the conceit of the show for what it is and not take it too seriously. In real life, no two kids would sit through such a long story, and no father should tell his children about all the women he slept with before he met their mom. But taken in broad strokes, How I Met Your Mother is a story about how all the events in Ted's life, big and small, good and bad, planned or unexpected, went into making him the person who was ready to find Tracy and capable of being with her.

Future Ted himself put it best in "Right Place, Right Time." He tells his kids "There's a lot of little reasons why the big things in our lives happen." He explains that what seemed like chaos was bringing him inexorably toward the best person and the best thing to ever happen to him, that there were "all these little parts of the machine constantly working, making sure that you end up exactly where you're supposed to be, exactly when you're supposed to be there." And he tells them at the time, he didn't know "where all those little things were leading [him] and how grateful [he]'d be to get there."

That, to my mind, is the theme to take from this great, if tainted show. Sure, it's unrealistic that anyone would go on that many tangents in telling the story of their great romance, but the point is that each of these moments, each of these people, were crucial in who he was and who he became when he met Tracy, and that they were as important as that fateful meeting was. Yes, it's a long story, and it has many many detours, but it's the story of all the twists and turns and bumps in the road that brought Ted into the arms of his soulmate, and that smooths over the rougher edges of the show's premise.

Instead, the twist that it's all supposed to be about Ted having the hots for Robin turns that lovely story into a long-winded attempts by a middle-aged man to convince his kids that he should date their aunt That seems much more crass. There's still meaning to be wrung from it, meaning that finds parallels with Tracy and her dead boyfriend Max and the idea that you can have more than one meaningful relationship in your life. But it doesn't add up with what the show had really done to that point. The past nine seasons were no more about Robin than they were about Barney or Marshall or Lily. They no more feel like a way to suggest that Aunt Robin's good dating material than they do that Ted should spend more time with Uncle Barney. As great as that blue french horn was the first time, it had meaning because it represented something we knew was going to end, but which still had beauty and value despite that. This last time we see it, it's represents the opposite, that something beautiful has ended, and the value it had is cast aside in favor of a relationship the series spent years disclaiming. That is deeply, deeply unsatisfying.

Take away those final few scenes, concocted in a different era of the series, and you have a flawed but still potent finale, that delivers on the show's biggest promise and gives the gang one last "big moment" together. But add them back in, and you have an ending to the series that not only runs counter to so much of what the show developed over the course of its run, its final season in particular, but which, moreover, cheapens the story the audience had been invested in for the past nine years. It's almost impressive how a couple of truly terrible moments can do such retroactive damage to such a longrunning show , but here we are, with a sour taste in our mouth from such an ill-conceived finish.

Future Ted was right, a little moment can have a big impacts, and the one at the end of the series is a doozy in that regard. But maybe, just maybe, when we tell our own stories about How I Met Your Mother, we can do what Ted should have done many times -- just leave that part out. There's something wonderful to be gleaned from the ending to this fun, optimistic, heartfelt, and occasionally very rocky series, but it requires us to do what we always do when looking back on things: focus on the good stuff, make our peace with the bad stuff, and remember it at its best.

I love October. You can practically hear all of my favorite shows coming back from hiatus.

This was a really good episode. Like, really good. Thankfully, Superman didn't overshadow Supergirl at all. I'd been worried that that might happen - the media had been massively overhyping his appearance on the show before the season started, but he didn't steal Kara's spotlight, for which I'm grateful. Tyler and Melissa work so well together. It was a pleasure to watch their characters interact.

Lena Luthor seems pretty cool. I hope to see more of her soon.

Cat Grant is absolutely fantastic. I love her. What a shame that Calista is no longer a series regular. Kara and Cat's relationship is a delight to watch.

Kara and James didn't even last one episode, which is hilarious. Honestly, I'm glad. Let Kara focus on herself before you put her in a relationship.

We also got yet another British villain, the first glimpse of Project Cadmus and Alex Danvers kicking some bad guy ass (hell yeah!).

After a pretty shaky start and some serious improvement in season 1, Supergirl is now a well-balanced superhero show and also one of my personal favorites. And boy, am I glad that they moved it to the CW. To be honest, I didn't know what to think when I heard the news back in May, but it worked out extremely well. The pacing and the flow of the episode were significantly better than what we'd got used to in season 1. The dialogues were better. The editing was better. The atmosphere was better. Supergirl has always been charming, colorful and fun, and now all these qualities seem to have been amplified somehow. If this episode was any indication of how the rest of the season is going to look like, we're in for a treat. And I couldn't be more excited.

This feels much more like mid season episode. That's not saying it was a bad one. Quite the opposite. I had a lot of good laughs and a lot of smiles.

One small point of critique: the whole Lysella story was too predictable. I love the dialogue between her and Kelly. It's obvious where that's aimed at. But why not show her the simulation earlier ? Could've made her understand and accept without all the back and forth.

As for the Clair/Issac relationship - who would've thought it would end in marriage when that started way back. But it works, it makes sense and it doesn't feel forced.

Final thoughts on the season:

"Future Unknown" refers as much to the episode as to the show itself. There still is no news about a renewal. It would be a loss to not have another season. I'm sure they could come up with interesting stories. Ed's daughter, his relationship to Kelly, how Claire and Isaac work out, Lysella - there is tons of potential. But they also made sure we get closure if it ends here. I would miss the characters as they have grown on me. I want to see them again and learn more about them. Experience some more adventures with them. That's a feeling no show has given me for quite some time.

Please come back.

The problem with coming to a popular film like this later on is that hype gets in the way. With no awareness of the brand or comic, yet having been told numerous times how great this is, it is difficult to approach this in the right manner to review. There is no doubt that it is a lot of fun and a large part of this is down to Pratt who nails the lead, Quinn. Its bright and colourful (a welcome change to the lived in feel of many other sci-fantasy films) and confident in it's execution. Yet equally it is part of a Marvel formula that started to wear thin after the first Avengers movie - for all the talk of how different this film was to the usual Marvel film, it's only real surprise is just how tied to the Marvel template the film is - everyone trying to get hold of a MacGuffin of unspeakable power, culminating in a large scale battle and fight scenes that unfortunately lead to very little of consequence, with all our heroes surviving to fight another day and a tease as to where this is all leading to. Admittedly, the fun here is in the different characters they have created. But If Marvel are serious about creating a cinematic universe where all these stories are interconnected then at some point they are going to have to take a risk in the storytelling - this isn't it!

[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.

[8.8/10] There’s a funny thing about these updated, transmogrified Shakespeare adaptations like 10 Things I Hate About You. If you didn’t know better, you could call the plots convoluted. There is a complicated web of relationships and deceptions, to the point that you practically need a diagram to explain it properly.

In short, Michael helps his friend Cameron woo Bianca by convincing Joey to pay Patrick to date Kat, because Bianca, per her father Mr. Stratford, cannot date until Kat does. With me? Well then, it turns out that Kat dated Joey, and after Bianca picks Cameron over Joey, Joey picks Bianca’s friend Chastity, while Michael pursues Kat’s friend Mandella, as Kat and Patrick’s tempestuous relationship takes root.

It’s a little dizzying, and yet the complex string of friends and enemies and relationships that tow the line between put-ons and genuine affection track nigh-perfectly into the high school setting. Despite the dense qualities of that big ball of string’s worth of plot threads, the complicated social structures and intersecting circles of high school make for the perfect way to realizes The Bard’s comedies in the modern day.

But 10 things is more than just a transmogrified version of The Taming of the Shrew. It also a charming tale that captures the heart and hazards of adolescence at the same time it exaggerates them for comic effect. What’s most impressive about the film is how it has its cake and eats it too on that front. There are goofy beats and subplots that only happen in teen movies, like unexpected party scenes and famous bands showing up to play contemporary (hopefully) chart-topping hits for the soundtrack.

But amid that broader material, there is a real examination of what it is to play up or down to expectation, a theme present in the work that inspired 10 Things, but which is given new life in the guise of the teenagers who are at that point in the fraught process of growing up where they’re deciding who and what they want to be, in love and in life. The gross wager that turns into real love is a hoary trope (see also: fellow 1990s borrower She’s All That) but by rooting the romance at the core of the film in two people who embrace a thorny image and find the hidden depths behind the prickers in one another, the film does justice to its source material and resonates with a target audience trying to figure out which parts of who they are malleable, which parts are non-negotiable, and which parts are fit to be broadcast to the rest of the world (or at least, the relevant social circles)>

It is also just damn charming. The film is full of quotable lines and crackerjack exchanges between characters. The cutting aside is wielded well and often, and side characters like teachers (including the great Allison Janney) and parents (Larry Miller, who nails both comedy and emotion as Mr. Stratford) provide a backdrop of colorful characters for the main story to flourish in. The writing stands out in 10 Things not just for the amusing lines which liven some otherwise familiar teen material, but for the way it allows the film to, in true Shakespeare form, shift tones into more serious material when it needs to.

The same goes for the characters. Kat shoots off the best zingers in the movie, and with her rebellious attitude and literary bent, it would be easy to turn her into a one-dimensional avatar rather than a character. Instead, the film roots her perspective and demeanor in an experience with Joey that gives form to her concerns of Bianca following in her footsteps, and gives just enough context to her mom leaving to make the crisis of conscience and turning point understandable.

By the same token, Bianca could easily be a generic popular girl, and in fairness, at certain points of the film, she is. But she too has a simple but meaningful arc of playing to expectations only to realize that she doesn’t necessarily like what that gets her, and it allows the two sisters to grow in their understanding of one another in strong scenes that deepen their relationship.

The objects of their affection receive a bit of shading as well. The reveal that Patrick, who puts on a gruff exterior and bears the reputation derived from many humorous urban legends about him, is not as wild as he seems is, perhaps, a predictable one. But he gains strength from the way that he and Kat see bits of themselves in one another, Cameron is a bit flatter, learning a trite if endearingly-put lesson about not accepting the notion that he doesn’t deserve what he wants, but there’s enough there to give ballast to the enjoyable-if-disposable teen romp elements.

Even Mr. Stratford, who is arguably the most outsized major character in the film, gets a bit of shading. While he spits out awkward-sounding nineties slang and is comically overprotective and paranoid of his daughters getting pregnant, the film balances that with a subtext to his insecurities about Kat leaving for Sarah Lawrence. There is a Daria-like quality to the film’s ability to poke fun at the parent-child relationship, but also find the sweetness and sincerity in it.

That’s what makes 10 Things more than the sum of its byzantine bets and love triangles. Some twists are convenient, some gestures a little too big to work anywhere but on the silver screen, and some bits of forgiveness come a little too easy. Still, the film keeps its plot, humor, and drama working in sync, where one scene can make you chuckle, the next will let you get to know a character a little better, and the one after will tug at your heartstrings, just a little bit.

The oh-so-nineties soundtrack immediately places in the film at a specific moment in time, but it speaks to the relatable qualities of that quest to figure out both who you are, and who’ll accept you for who you are, that feel like life and death for all seventeen-year-olds. 10 Things is a touchstone for those who grew up with it, both for the quips and clever asides that let the film crackle, and for the notion of young men and women, cutting through pretension and presentation, and finding something true beneath it, in themselves and in the people they love.

"To the Undiscovered Country - The future."

I lost track of how much talent is in this episode. I kept getting distracted by Bruce Boxleitner reprising his role as the President of Earth. What a lore-rich and beautiful episode this is. I think there is something for everybody. From the classic humor in the simulator, to getting deeper into Krill lore, to seeing multiple space battles.

To the above quote, this is The Orville's version of Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country. Right down to the Abrahamic leader figure. And this time the subversion is that peace goes to shit and all anyone can do is simply prevent going to open war on multiple fronts. The wildcard, that I'm mad I didn't see coming, is that Ed got Teleya pregnant and she now has a Krill-Human daughter that could upset galactic politics and cause an uprising on Krill. Ed is now sitting on an H-bomb, and he might have to press the trigger.

• Blink and you'll miss that Keyali got promoted and then propositioned by LaMarr! I would like to know more.
• Don't feel bad, Americans, Krill had a 2016 election, too.
• I thought the response to the Krill abducting the Earth President was believable, but I still don't understand how you get a column of warships that close to the home world of a highly advanced and hostile race without firing a shot. Unless quantum drive is less like gliding through space and more like teleporting.
• To continue taking the Star Trek VI analogy further than I should; If there is to be a brave, new world, that girl is going to have the hardest time living in it. I hope she's a recurring character.

Overall this episode has such a warmth to it, even on Planet Ibiza. All the vistas we get to see, all the held shots and silent moments. Seth said that every episode would feel like a movie, and so far that holds true. This is best one so far, and also one of the best of the entire series.

I cannot stress how meaningful it is to me that the camera is allowed to be in a fixed position for several seconds at a time! After finishing Obi-wan, I am so tired of free-roaming cameras and additional shaking being purposefully added in post when the scene is just someone talking.

I'm just going to keep saying it until it stops being true. Right now, there are exactly two scifi shows airing that are telling stories of this caliber. Neither of them are called Star Trek, but both of them are being worked on by Star Trek alumni. I'm at least grateful that science fiction that prioritizes smart storytelling is still an option. Gene would be proud of both of them. And I'd like to think he prefers this one. :)

The end is nigh
It's exposition time in Westworld, y'all! So Bernard was created because Ford wasn't able to recreate true emotion. Only another host could do it. Maybe this is analoge to programming we have now. In the early days of computing coders needed to code in assembly, tell the computer every operation it had to do. Nowadays we have higher level programming, in some cases we can even talk in natural language to it. So i think the way Ford works is not so far away to the way we work with computers. For me it is totally logical, that just hosts can model their own emotions, fulfill such a complicated task. My current Arnold-Theory is, that he was a host, that Ford created to do a similar task. But it got out of hand. So Bernard is Arnold 2.0.
Ford also quotes Mary Shelly's Frankenstein: One man's life or death were but a small price to pay for the acquirement of the knowledge which I sought, for the dominion I should acquire and transmit over the elemental foes of our race.
It is a bit to on the nose for my taste, but i guess this late in the season they really to tell it to the last viewer, who didn't already understand.
One gripe i had with the episode was, that apparently you can photoshop people out of surveillance footage. Who thought this was a nice feature to have? "Oh, and make sure we can edit our security tapes. You know...just in case" "Of course, that is not at all creepy and suspicious"

You know who I love? Alex Danvers. Any episode where she gets her own scenes is a good episode in my book. Which is kind of sad, actually - she's a main character after all, arguably the most important one after Kara, and yet practically all of her storylines revolve around her sister. The showrunners promised that we would get to know Alex more this season and see more of her personal life, so I'm waiting for that. And I'm really happy that they acknowledged Alex's problems with Clark because she's right. 12-year-old Kara was willing to take care of baby Kal, but Clark, who was a grown-ass man when her pod landed, immediately dropped his cousin off at the Danvers family's doorstep like a stray puppy. Alex has dedicated her whole life to Kara while Clark has been flying around, showing up once in a blue moon. What's up with that, by the way? It took him like 5 seconds to get from National City to Metropolis. Can't they hang out for dinner every Saturday or something? Why do they see each other so rarely?

It was fun to have Superman on the show. I really liked the way Tyler Hoechlin portrayed him.

Clark and Kara are adorable dorky dorks and I love them.

My favorite scene in this episode was the one where Cat told Kara she was leaving. I genuinely cried. I love Cat Grant and the show won't be the same without her. She'll return at some point, of course, but she'll probably never be a main character again, which sucks. Just like Kara, I don't like change, and I will miss Queen of All Media deeply.

Winn is absolutely hilarious. His reaction to Clark and J'onn arguing was the same as mine. And Star Wars references are always great.

Project Cadmus is super shady. I mean, I already knew that, but damn. They're much better villains than Non.

James is the boss, which is... actually good in my opinion? And it makes sense? Give him his own storylines outside of being Kara's (former) love interest. It'll be good for both of them.

Certainly one of the most taut thrillers of an episode the show has done this season. Giving the episode a more singular focus, the hunt for Allison, not only allowed the episode to feel more direct and powerful, but it led to the smaller details around that main story feeling more salient as well.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, the acting on this show is what has kept it worthwhile even as the storytelling has been more uneven from season-to-season and even episode-to-episode. The quiver of Carrie's lower lip as she looks at Saul for the first time since he told her off before he embraces her, the light in Saul's eyes when he tells Alison "I was asleep for ten years. You woke me up," the subtle pain and mild regret in Alison's eyes when she hears those words, was all masterful and added personal stakes to the larger spycraft story being told. The actress who played Alison did a particularly good job here, communicating her characters steely grace, fear, and determination in equal measure.

But the direction and cinematography deserve serious kudos as well. There were several images of the same person duplicated in multiple frames in this episode -- Alison on multiple surveillance screens, Quinn being videotaped by the terror cell, his soft-hearted would-be savior walking into his own reflection in a room full of reflective glass. The easy read of this motif is the multiple sides to these individuals, the way that Alison is a double agent, that Quinn cycles through identities, that the man who sympathizes with Quinn is both a terrorist but also a human being with empathy. But at base, it reflects the idea that there are multiple sides to these individuals.

And the way the episode's director put together the scenes of Allison's attempted escape and capture were superb at conveying the tension and pressure of the moment. Surveillance has been a recurring visual theme in this show, people's most personal moments watched through a digital frame, and it worked well here. But even when the show switched to steadicam and showed Alison weaving through the Berlin train station, it conveyed her sense of panic, of how tenuous Saul and Carrie and the Germans' hold on her was. It's one of the series' stand out sequences, and the (momentary) payoff to this season's game of cat and mouse was a satisfying one.

Unfortunately, Quinn's storyline was something of a drag. His plotline has been the weakest on the show since he all-too-conveniently found his way into a terror cell planning an attack on Berlin. The idea of the terrorist who has second thoughts about what he's planning and who is both humanized and sees the humanity in the people he's fighting against is a legitimate story beat, but it's also a bit of an easy one,, and there's not much of a distinctive take or twist to it here. Chekhov's sarin antedote injenction was a predictable turn in the story, and the entire enterprise feels like something to keep Quinn busy until it's time for him to rejoin the main plot of the season.

But still, the effort to trap Alison, the personal moments between Carrie and Saul, and the bits of spycraft we witnessed in both efforts, elevated this episode to being one of the best of the season so far. Alison's attempt to spin the events with Ivan as her asset is an interesting story direction, and while I have no doubt that Quinn will survive, there's still lots of intrigue going into the final three episodes of the season.

[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.

[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] 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.

I'm just going to start off by listing the 3 shittiest things that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named did in this episode, okay? By the way, please enlighten me, how does a dude who does multiple shitty things per episode even stand a chance with Kara, let alone actually get together with her?

1. Calling Kara helping people as Supergirl "little superhero-ing".

2. Immediately disregarding Kara's wishes and telling everyone about their relationship.

3. Ignoring what Kara said (again) and trying to brush it off (again).

I just don't get it. A part of me thinks, or hopes, that the writers are doing this on purpose to show what a toxic relationship looks like and how not to treat your significant other, but let's be real, that's probably not it. They actually seem to think that this shit is cute and romantic. And it makes me sick.

Sure, Man-Hell was right about Jeremiah. But contrary to popular belief, the end doesn't justify the means. He could have proved his point without being an asshole. But I guess that's just how he rolls, right? And we're supposed to let it slide because... he's conventionally attractive?

Honestly, fuck this guy.

Alex's confrontation with Jeremiah was a powerful moment and Chyler Leigh once again brought her A-game.

How long will I have to scream into the void about Maggie's lack of screentime before someone finally hears me? I can't believe the showrunners think I'm more interested in What's-His-Face than in this amazing woman, who:

1. is simultaneously an absolute badass and the softest human being I have ever seen (those dimples, man, Jesus Christ, what a bae)

2. was outed to her parents and kicked out of the house at 14

3. is such a good detective that she figured out Kara's secret by herself

4. is a good, pure, unproblematic fave who deserves better.

I have no dignity left anymore, I will literally beg if I have to. I'll sell my soul if that's what it takes to get her a proper storyline. Sure, the family dinner thing was cute, and the way she comforted Alex was wonderful. Maggie Sawyer is a kind, supportive girlfriend who listens to Alex and is always there for her, and the way they keep trying to draw parallels between Sanvers and Karamel lowkey makes me want to die. They're not similar! At all! Not in a million years! One is based on mutual love, respect and support, and the other is an abusive garbage fire. I'm starting a campaign. Let Maggie Sawyer deck Fuckboy in the face 2017.

And another thing: I guess Karamel can be all over each other, make out, wake up in bed naked after obviously having sex, but God forbid Maggie and Alex do anything more than kiss for exactly 1.5 seconds. No, I'm not bitter, why do you ask?

Does Cadmus want to send all aliens back into space? Hey, here's a thought: maybe they can use that big-ass ship to launch Mayo-El into the Phantom Zone? Pretty please?

[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.

[9.5/10] One of the strengths of Westworld is how it jumps back and forth in time. The lifeblood of any good story is change, and drifting from the very beginnings of the park, to the time when Delos took it over, to the present during the robot revolt, lets the show highlight those changes, gently explain them, without merely having to gesture toward them or disrupt the tone and setting of the series.

“Reunion” is about the story of that transition. It’s about how Westworld itself went from being the brainchild of a couple of dreamers, to the investment of multinational company, to the hellscape of mechanical slaughter and real challenge it is today. It’s about how Delos’s involvement started out with one horny investment bro being wooed by the amazing and seductive wares the place had to offer, progressed to a surrogate son proving his mettle to his father-in-law, and advanced to become a battleground where a big corporation is sending in private security forces to protect its investment.

It’s about how Dolores went from being someone mesmerized by the city lights so far outside of her understanding, to being the special host who sensed there was something beyond the world that she saw and trekked through, to the leader of the rebellion who kills without mercy and aims to use that outside world as a weapon. It’s about how William went from being bored with glad-handing, to persuading and eventually pushing aside his father-in-law, to reconciling his own experience with the power Westworld possesses, to trying to find his way out of the real stakes and find the real meaning he’s been searching for since we met him in the “present.”

And it’s about how all of these stories are intertwined: how Dolores’s first night in the city connects with Logan’s amazement at what Ford and Arnold were capable of, how William’s great triumph of his corporate career coincides with Dolores appearing as a reminder of the way the park can reveal people, how The Man in Black’s grand crusade is only made possible through the mechanical woman who once entranced him instigating her rebellion.

These are all potent pieces of that change, but “Reunion” isn’t satisfied to merely dole them out piecemeal. It ties them together, shows where they blend into one another, and how the fates of these two individuals, of this place and this company, have been unwittingly bound together for decades.

Westworld is a show that loves its puzzle boxes, and much of the Season 2 premiere was spent recrafting and reloading them for another year. But when all those boxes are solved and opened, and all the requisite shocks are delivered, what you have left is character and theme, the people and the ideas that are necessary to give any sort of weight and meeting to the jaw-dropping surprises.

“Reunion” doesn't answer many of those mysterious questions, beyond filling in a few sundry, if significant details about how things got from Point A to Point B. Instead, it answers implicit questions about who Dolores and William are, about how they went from being the wide-eyed naifs we met last season to being The Man in Black and the quick-firing, merciless revolutionary who aims to topple the world that birthed her.

That’s what gives “Reunion” its power and makes it a cut above every other Westworld episode so far. The causes and effects the episode presents are believable and compelling. It teaches us more about the main figures in the show, rather than obscuring their true nature or their goals. It creates a plausible narrative that lets us see and experience the instigating events that would cause the two sweetest, most decent characters from the last season into the cold-blooded individuals they are today.

And beyond that, it’s just a well-written, well-made episode of television. The scenes progress with perfection, giving us just enough of the different stages of Delos’s (and William’s) interest in the park to understand how things have advanced without belaboring it. The episode is shot beautifully, with The Man in Black wandering into a candle-lit version of Pariah that seems haunted before anyone says a word, with a camera that follows our heroes like a ghost.

That also helps highlight the performances, which are some of the best in the series and show the range and talents of the actors. Ed Harris continues to be a surprisingly effect terse badass, who nevertheless shows excitement and fear as the situation escalates. Evan Rachel Wood has proven herself expert at communicating what time period it is when we see Dolores simply with her demeanor, crafting the contrast between the wide-eyed dove who gazes upon the city lights and the sharp-eyed maven who aims to take them. And Jimmi Simpson proves his mettle both as William takes a chance and convinces his skeptical but “cheeky” father-in-law to invest in Westworld, and as a man in transition when he confesses his view of Westworld to Dolores.

That view feels pointedly relevant in the age of big data. While my suspicions about the corporate world’s interests veered toward the usual science fiction tropes -- programmable soldiers, undetectable spies or duplicates -- “Reunion” posits a different use for the IP and data generated Westworld. They want information, the knowledge of what people want when they can act unfettered. William posits that Westworld in general, and the hosts in particular, are a mirror, and to the extent that they reveal people’s true selves, their true desires, it’s an endlessly lucrative thing for a company to derive that sort of info.

That hits close to home in an age where more and more of our lives are led online, where anonymity and thus outrageous freedom is within reach for more and more individuals. And yet despite that sense of unrestrained choice and escape from sight, our actions are, as has been increasingly revealed, more and more being tracked and more and more unprotectable in the digital world. There is an asymmetry, between the sense that we can hide behind a pseudonym and let our real selves run wild, and the reality that the value of the free services we consume is that our wants can be categorized, commodified, and sold to the highest bidder.

It blurs the line between the fiction of Westworld and the reality of life on the other side of the screen, and it’s the performances of people like Simpson, Wood, and Harris (and Thandie Newton, who performs a tantalizing run-in between Maeve and Dolores) who drive that idea home.

And then there’s Giancarlo Esposito, who turns a nothing role as El Lazio, the part Lawrence used to play, into one of the most foreboding, portentous scenes in the entire show. If you want a one-scene wonder, who can convey menace, mystery, and the tense of something uncontrollable but frightening, you can do far worse than enlisting the once and future Gus Fring. There’s so many tremendous scenes in this episode, but the mood-lit, unwavering monologue of Esposito’s host-gone-mad and his warnings, stands out even among them.

Because while “Reunion” is an episode about change, it is also an episode about warning signs, about the sense that there were hints, small events, that led to this place, and could have told our heroes (and villains) where all of this was headed. It was not merely a grand transition that turned Westworld from a fantasy into a warzone, that turned Dolores from a farmgirl into a butcher, that changed William from a gentle whitehat to the blistering, withered gunslinger he is now.

It was an accumulation of smaller moments, of sights and experiences that couldn’t be scrubbed from their memory, of little flows and eddies that brought them to this point. “Reunion” is devoted to those smaller moment, and the way they coalesce into the different people and different places who brought the dream of two men into the twin crusades of the two individuals, one human and one artificial, that threaten to change everything once again.

[7.3/10] “The Naked Now” is the third episode of The Next Generation, and yet, it’s the sort of episode that works much better if you, for instance, plop it somewhere in the middle of the season, or even the series. The power, and dare I say, fun of the episode stems from seeing the normally professional, determined, even stoic crew of the Enterprise devolve into goofy intoxicated fools. But if you barely know who these characters are yet, as anyone just starting the show would, then the contrast between the usual demeanor and the drunken revelry doesn’t quite register the same way.

You need the whimsy of that revelry to work because it’s really the only thing “The Naked NOw” has going for it. Sure, there’s the threat of the alien virus that makes people act without their full faculties, but even if you don’t know how this is going to play out from watching the precursor episode from The Original Series, Riker and Data discover the cure fifteen minutes into the episode, and so there’s little dramatic tension to the hour. You’re either enjoying the break from seriousness and how the crew gets downright silly, or you’re just waiting for Dr. Crusher to figure out how to regoogle the energymotron or what have you in time to develop the antidote.

It’s worth noting that “The Naked Now” is, to my knowledge, the only episode of The Next Generation that is a direct sequel (or something close to that) to an episode of The Original Series. There’s not much gained from that connection. Sure, it’s kind of neat that Riker remembers his history well enough to piece what’s happening together, or that we get to witness someone showering in their clothes rather than just hearing about it second hand, but it doesn’t add much to the proceedings beyond being a sop to the diehard fans.

Still, it’s understandable why the writers chose to recycle this plot in the new series. The drunk-making virus allows you to have your main cast break or reveal character to amusing effect, and the collapsing star nearby creates an easy (if not terribly convincing) threat that (at least nominally) creates extra stakes and urgency in finding a cure.

It’s the latter part that weakens the episode. “The Naked Now” features the first, but sadly not the last instance where the day is improbably saved by Wesley the wunderkind. I can at least appreciate the legwork shown by the writers by introducing Wes’s makeshift personal tractor beam/repulsor beam in the first act, thereby setting him up to do the same with the ship’s version of the same in the last act. But it’s clear from the getgo that TNG finds “Wesley Crusher, boy genius” far more compelling a figure than its audience does.

Nevertheless, even if the destination is obvious and the way the show chooses to get there is worth an eye-roll or two, the ride is a fun one. It’s all too rare that Star Trek goes for straight up comedy, but what we get here is great.

Count me among those who loves the vaudevillian flair of intoxicated Data. It’s really a shame that Brent Spiner didn’t get more opportunities to play the outsized, clownish foil he inhabits here. (Lore offers some bit of salve to that regret though.) The look on his face when Tasha beckons him to the bedroom, the “If you prick me, do I not leak?” line delivery, the pratfall he takes afterward, are all just comic gold. While it’s used for comedy rather than pathos, “The Naked Now” wrings all it can from the contrast of the usually humorless Data having his head scrambled.

While it’s a little exploitative, Tasha’s encounter with Data is a pretty unique and interesting tack here too. Let’s be frank, I doubt her part of the episode was intended as anything but titillation, and the male gaze-y shot of her walking down the hallway, or the barely-there dress she wears that confirmed for me that costume designer William Theiss was back on the payroll long before I saw his name in the opening credits, are pretty embarrassing and shameless by modern standards. That doesn’t even take into account the uncomfortable at best way in which Tasha invokes her childhood escapes from “rape gangs” before seeking physical affection from Data.

Maybe I’m just giving the interaction more weight given what the show does with it down the line. But I do think that, beneath all the problematic elements of how Tasha is used here (which presages Michelle Pfeifer’s turn as Catwoman in Batman Returns), the core of the story is worthwhile. It’s the story of a damaged person in a weakened state seeking comfort and a complete naif, incapable of malice and not fully understanding what’s happening, acceding to her wishes. It may not be what the show intended, but there’s complex emotional and social material to unpack there for days.

Less dramatic (and borderline distasteful) but more endearing are the interactions between Captain Picard and Dr. Crusher. I’ll cop to being a Picard/Crusher shipper, so I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find some glee in the two of them barely able to contain themselves around one another.

But that’s also where the comedy lies here. Watching these two committed professionals do everything they can to maintain their composure, while inevitably giving in, just a little bit, to their unprofessional urges, is amusing as all get out. Everything from Picard’s feeble wave, or Crusher saying she has a “personal matter” to discuss with him, only to correct him that it’s “an urgent” matter, finds the humor in this pair of centered people losing their emotional balance.

That’s the sort of thing that makes “The Naked Now” enjoyable. It’s not the most tightly-written or momentum-filled episode there ever was. It makes little sense that Riker seems mostly unaffected by the infection; the belabored romantic tension between him and Troi is again overblown; and Data replacing the isolinear chips as a game feels contrived. But if you can enjoy Wesley Crusher channeling Ensign Riley and announcing mandatory extra dessert over the PA, or Data not understanding dirty limericks, or Worf growling that he doesn’t get Earth humor either, than the third episode of the series can still be plenty of fun.

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.

[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.

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!"

[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.

[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.

[7.6/10] 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.

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.

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.

[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!)