I think this was overhyped for me, because the pilot left me fairly cold. Jessica Jones herself feels like a combination of things I've seen before -- some combination of Veronica Mars, Faith from Buffy, and Hancock. Now I appreciated those characters, but that means the protagonist of the series still feels a bit rote.
And Kilgrave's actions as a rape metaphor is pretty on the nose as well. Don't get me wrong, again, Buffy was great at taking the supernatural as a metaphor for real life issues, but this wasn't exactly subtle. I don't know. I like the idea, but the execution throws me for some reason; it almost feels a little too after school special somehow.
In the same vein, the Kilgrave flashes vacilate between being legitimately creepy and a little too hokey for my tastes. On the one hand, it's an interesting way to depict the PTSD of a traumatic event like that, and the idea of it being unclear whether Jones is flashing back or being mentally manipulated is an interesting one. On the other hand, since it's a superhero show, it's pretty clear that we're dealing with a guy with some kind of powers of psychic suggestion, which is appropriately unnerving, but takes some of the suspense out of the question. Plus, the show uses all the old film tricks to depict the panic -- dutch angles, slowing down the framerate while the camera zooms around Jessica, little time cut jumps to indicate disorientation. To that end, I appreciate the scenes bathed in purple light as a not-so subtle indicator of Kilgrave's presence, but even that technique starts to feel a little too bluntly deployed.
And there's a lot of cliches here. We've got the standard noir setup, private detective skulking around the grungier side of New York. There's a cold, calculating lawyer who seems cut from the mold of Claire Underwood on House of Cards, who's cheating on her significant other. There's thinly veiled flirting between Jones and her would-be femme fatale from the bar. There's the rough-around-the-edges friend who's a thief but who'll surely deliver in the clutch at some point. There's the old, estranged friend who thought she could be more. It's all fairly standard stuff.
The dialogue doesn't help. "I couldn't be the hero you thought I was" is an interesting premise for any character, but you shouldn't have the character actually say it, and voice over doesn't help in adding subtlety to any show. Again, I'm at odds because I really like the premise of someone experiencing a trauma and vacillating between shutting out the world and detach into suffering versus trying to move on and rectify things somehow. But the pilot wasn't especially artful about setting that up.
Then again, it's a pilot, and by definition there's a lot of table setting that has to take place. Now that the main character (played with aplomb by Kristyn "Apology Girl" Ritter) and her world and associates are established, somewhat clunkily, it's time to see what the show does in its little playground. The ending, which took me a bit by surprise and had an appropriately horrifying capper to Jessica's brief hint of joy at doing some good, has promise. We'll see where it goes.
6.5/10. There were some positives here. The titular song and dance number (with unexpected but pleasant return of Angie!) was a lot of fun, and showed off some hidden talents from the cast. It's churlish to continue to compare this show to Buffy, but this is just the kind of flight of fancy that series would employ from time-to-time to liven up things a bit and show that beneath the genre-trappings of its premise and occasionally darker and more serious material, it could kick back and just entertain. The colorful costumes, the well-employed dream logic, and the hoot of an ending made the opening of "A Little Song and Dance" one to remember.
And what's more, the scene between Peggy and Jarvis as they were walking along a desert role is one of the best in the entire series. It felt true to those moments when friends are at their lowest and know how just what to say to hurt the other. Jarvis's statement that everyone around Peggy dies was coldblooded, and his immediately dismayed reaction after saying it perfectly underscored what a terrible thing it was to stay. And yet Peggy, paragon of strength, not only wipes away her tears and remains unshaken, but turns around and not only owns the uncomfortable truths and justifying virtues of what she does with her life, but rightfully spits it right back at Jarvis for the lack of any price he's had to pay for these adventures. And his confession to Peggy about his wife's inability to have children, about his cowardice and his unspoken guilt at having been the cause of it, it doesn't change the truth or honesty of anything Peggy's said, but it changes her perspective and attitude. Jarvis is having his first taste of this kind of loss, and finding it doesn't agree with him.
But the rest of the episode was fairly dull and uninteresting, even as it was attempting to be flashy. I've said it before, and I'll say it again -- I have little-to-no investment in the love triangle between Peggy, Sousa, and Wilkes. Sousa continues to be a sort of formless space-eater of a love interest, whose dogged agent routine was tired before the show kept trying to glue he and Peggy together. Wilkes is, at least, a bit more interesting with the way he's been affected by the zero matter, but despite his scientific background, he hasn't been able to conjure up much real chemistry with Peggy either. So when too much of the episode has Peggy stumbling over these issues, I tend to push back.
Still, those elements didn't overwhelm the episode like the boring and repetitive plotting did. Agent Carter hasn't proven itself to be particularly adept at layering crosses and doublecrosses on top of one another in an intriguing way. With all the attempts at betrayal and charades and attempts to discern where real loyalty lay, the episode felt jumbled. While the various twists and turns on that front were not especially difficult to follow, they just felt gratuitous and unnecessary, and not early as mysterious or intriguing as they seemed to be pitched as. How many times did we need to see someone unexpectedly hold someone else at gunpoint in this episode? Eventually, it becomes comic.
Of course, with my utilitarian leanings, I tend to side with Agent Thompson for wanting to blow up three dangerous people who have each shown themselves willing to take the lives of others (two of whom have nigh-uncontrollable superpowers) rather than risk their killing anyone else. I realize that Peggy wants to save Wilkes on principle (and her defense of her decision to save Dottie and accusation that Jarvis is a would-be murderer dovetails nicely here and served as another layer to their earlier argument), and I can appreciate the idea (played with in Jessica Jones as well) that bad guys need to be brought to justice rather than summarily executed by the people going after them.
That said, we know, and they know, the kind of damage that Whitney Frost has caused, could cause, and seems poised to cause. Any of it that comes to pass is on Peggy's head now, because she and her team had a chance to stop these people and refused to take it. Even if, as Peggy believes, Wilkes is a purely good and innocent man who's being warped by the zero matter, how many other good and innocent people will have to die because she could have stopped Whitney Frost, or at least allowed it to happen, and wouldn't.
But hey, that's network television for you, even with a show that's as adventurous, and occasionally script-flipping as Agent Carter. The rest of the episode was hit or miss. Jarvis's scene with Ana was another strength here, as Ana Jarvis, who started out as a collection of quirks, has been sketched out well in her brief time on screen as someone who believes in facing facts even if they're unpleasant, while not letting them get in the way of her and her husband's lives. The support and love shown between the two of them is impressive, especially considering "Mrs. Jarvis" was an unseen character in Season 1. And Samberly continues to hew too close to the irksome side of the annoying-endearing spectrum for comic relief characters.
"A Little Song and Dance" is the kind of episode that earns being just above the doldrums through one incredibly fun scene and one with incredible emotional weight and character moments. The rest of the episode falls into cheesier tropes and messy plotting, not to mention weak romantic angles, that do no one in the show any favors. While there's plenty of interesting elements that have been teed up for the finale (I suspect we haven't seen the last of Howard Stark's gamma cannon in relation to Wilkes's transformation), this episode doesn't inspire a great deal of confidence that the series will be able to stick the landing in terms of its plot, even if it can pull off a pair of superlative sequences that show of the show's creative side and display the amazing relationship and strong performances between its two leads.
[8.5/10] What a way to kick off the final half-season! It’s great to see BoJack get to be in his element for once. He’s clean. He’s in a supportive environment He is uncertain of himself but assuredly good at his job and helping young lives rather than hurting them. It is a joy to see him be so good at teaching, in a way that almost surprises himself. It’s a cliché, but there’s still something heartening about the way that BoJack puts his all into helping these kids, and even gets a benediction from Tawny that he’s a great teacher.
It’s also a hilarious setup for the episode. Maybe it’s just my status as having once been a theater kid, but I got such a kick out of all the gags involving BoJack’s overzealous pupils. The peak of this is the great “rule of three” gag with his students interrupting his AA meetings. The comic escalation is just brilliant, with the first kid doing a weird take on Flight, the second one trying to make the old man voice his “gimmick” and mixing in both the prior kid and a touch of There Will Be Blood, only to go for a left field punchline with the student who really did want to treat her drinking. Hilarious scenes! And there’s some great bits of classic BoJack wordplay like the lines about Doubt and Proof. All-in-all, the episode really wrung the humor out of the “BoJack as teacher” premise.
It also found excuses to check in with the rest of the cast. Mr. PB, Pickles, and Joey Pogo going in on a restaurant together at the same time they’re enacting Mr. PB’s insane plan to repair their intimacy is a promising setup. I particularly like the gags about how they’re rushing into it and the resolution that there must be better examples of being both one’s boss and husband than Ike and Tina Turner.
We also get a great Todd misadventure, which manages to build in insanity in that trademark Todd way with hilarious riffs on the famous marshmallow experiment, tensions between soft and hard sciences, and even an out there Willy Wonka homage. It’s classic Todd chicanery.
There’s also a nice bit for Princess Carolyn, who’s trying to cast one of BoJack’s students in “Birthday Dad”. For one, her arrival provides more great opportunities for humor, whether it’s BoJack’s students doing more of the “comment rather than a question” routine at her guest lecture, or the tug-of-war over the student’s future turning into a regular quest to get a dog to come over to you. But the show also uses it for pathos, with BoJack warning Stan against going to LA and losing his freedom and making the same mistakes he did. It’s a nice blend of humor and self-awareness and regret on BoJack’s part, vindicating how happy he is to be here.
The show manages that same blend of comedy and pain in BoJack’s interactions with Hollyhock. It’s heartbreaking how close and supporting BoJack wants to be as a big brother, and how put off Hollyhock is after the revelation in the last half-season about what happened with Penny. She’s understandably leery about BoJack being around her college-aged friends, and it creates a sense that she doesn't really know this guy who’s suddenly very close and very involved in her life.
On BoJack’s side, it’s both funny and pitiable. His efforts to connect with Hollyhock through rugby are a big laugh, especially when he’s looking up textbook definitions to better understand it. But at the same time, it’s sweet how hard he’s trying, and again, heartbreaking how it’s failing for reasons he doesn't understand. Their heart-to-heart after Hollyhock misses his production is a really well-written scene, with understandable motivations on both sides of the table. But it’s particularly rough because BoJack doesn't understand why Hollyhock’s pulling away, and she feels too awkward and uncomfortable to tell him. As hinted in the last episode, it’s a great instance of BoJack having turned a corner in his new life, to where he’s a better person, but still haunted and slow-release hurting those close to him through his mistakes in his old life.
Speaking of which, the show rocks BoJack’s world off its axis with a call from Charlotte, demanding that he gets these reporters off of her and Penny’s back. It’s a reminder of what is, sadly, not the worst thing BoJack’s ever done, but one that’s still pretty awful, coming back to haunt him, just when he’s found safety and security, in a way that feels both deserved and pathos-ridden.
Overall, this is a hilarious episode that manages to check in with all the major players (even Diane, briefly), while still building on character relationships and real life pain in the best BoJack way.
