[7.0/10] “Tomorrow Is Yesterday” is, at least so far, the peak of those goofy sci-fi conceits that people (lovingly) make fun of the show for. Let’s be frank, nothing here makes sense. The time-travel related trek-no-babble is patently ridiculous; the grave concern and then general lax attitude about messing with past is puzzling, and the solution to all of these problems is as much of a nonsense cheat as it is full of people diving out of their chairs on the bridge of the Enterprise.
And yet, there’s such a joie de vivre to the proceedings that it’s hard not to be charmed despite that. As ridiculous as the premise, plot, and resolution of the episode are, the people involved are having such insane, occasionally swashbuckling fun, and the episode coasts off that pretty damn well considering.
Let’s get right down to it – as much sci-fi mumbo jumbo as Star Trek has, it’s pretty silly that they just happen to go back in time to the 1960s where the show was airing. The explanation is fairly weak (jargon about a “black star”) as the cause, but what’s striking his how nonplussed everyone seems about this development. Bones and Scotty make brief comment on the fact that they’re trapped in the past, and maybe working on the federation’s flagship inures you to fantastical happenings taking place on a regular basis, but for the most part, everyone takes being flung two centuries into the past in stride, and it’s really weird.
That extends to the presence of the Air Force Captain whom the crew beams up. Maybe it’s years of stories where characters rail about the risks of changing the past, but tons of people are incredibly cavalier about letting him see and learn about all this stuff from his future. That seems like a pretty bad call. Spock’s aware of this, and admonishes against him, but then spills the beans that the Captain’s son becomes a big famous space hero, totally tainting the timeline! For someone who seemed concerned about what that Captain Christopher does or doesn’t know, he sure doesn’t mind telling him what the future holds.
What kills me is that there’s a cool story there – the prospect of a man who knows too much, and the dilemma of whether to trust him to return to his own time and risk changes to the timeline from his advance knowledge, or to take him away from his wife and kids and risk messing up the timeline through his absence. But Star Trek mostly glosses over that, giving him an interesting character motivation of following his duty the same way the members of Starfleet would and wanting to get back to his family, but compartmentalizing that for most of the way.
Don’t even get me started on the other guy they beam up. The air force major is, I think, supposed to be scared stiff, but the fact that he gets beamed up, causes no fuss, and essentially becomes a living prop in the episode is just bizarre, and makes you wonder why he was included in the episode at all.
At the same time, the resolution to this conundrum just makes absolutely no sense. It is super, super convenient that the method to getting back to the future will takes the Enterprise just far enough into the past to deposit their unexpected passengers back in their own time. What’s worse is that the episode seems to imply that Captain Christopher’s and the USAF Police Sergeant have their memories erased in the process. Why does that happen? How does that happen? Why doesn’t the journey seem to affect the members of the Enterprise crew? “Who knows! The episode’s over! Stop asking questions!”
That climax is also the absolute height of “just reverse the polarity” and “say something complicated and explain it using a simple metaphor” that most notably Futurama has tweaked Star Trek for. Having the enterprise just reverse the process that got them there, and take advantage of an intergalactic (and interchronal) “slingshot effect” to get back to the future is an extraordinarily contrived method to undo something as momentous as being sent two-hundred years into the past.
So why did I still rate this episode as “good,” albeit just barely? Because it’s pretty damn fun in the process. There’s a droll humor on display that just kept me chuckling throughout. Spock looking at the film of the Air Force’s surveillance of the enterprise and offering a dry comment of “Poor photography” is great. Captain Kirk telling Bones that he’s beginning to sound like Spock, and Bones responding “If you're going to get nasty, I'm going to leave” was the line of the episode. And Kirk’s smugness and self-satisfaction, which can often make the character grating, were perfectly deployed when he was being interrogated by the air force. His playing dumb, acting like a wiseass, and saying things like “what, this old thing? I just slipped into it” were all great uses of the character and his personality.
It also produced what I’d venture to call the best hand-to-hand fight of the show so far. I’ll admit, I laughed out loud when Kirk sort of dove into the collection of soldiers in what felt like a ten-year-old’s attempt at a cross-body takedown, and many of the individual moments in the scene were contrived. That notwithstanding, there was a kinetic quality to fight, a certain level of chaos where one skirmish flowed directly into the other, that made this stand out among the typically stolid punch-and-kick fests in the show.
Which is to say that when Star Trek gets goofy, outlandish, and even nonsensical, it should at least be fun. “Tomorrow Is Yesterday” delivers on that. Sure, it handles the issues raised by time travel and unintended consequences with all the deftness of an intoxicated buffalo. Sure, its answer to the plot predicament is to just throw faux-technological terms at the problem and it’ll just go away. And the crew’s attitude about changing the timeline, and the rules employed, make as much sense as the instructions for building a bookshelf translated into Swahili and then translated back again. But by god, it’s all entertaining enough to pass muster, and that gets you a lot of slack.
[7.6/10] Cards on the table -- I have no idea how to rate or judge this episode. The first 2/3 or so are a pretty darn good bit of Trek adventure, with another rogue commander, some interesting science fiction concepts, and a good if hammy performance from a guest actor. Then, in the last third, the episode gets downright idiotic, but it’s so ridiculous, so loony, so absurd, that it can’t help but be entertaining as jingoistic kitsch. The first portion of the episode is pretty great, and the last portion of it is pretty great too, but for entirely different reasons, to the point that they practically feel like different episodes.
The setup is pretty standard. The Enterprise shows up to a new planet, something is amiss (in this case, another starship that was patrolling the planet earlier is still there and won’t respond to hailing), so Kirk, Spock, and McCoy beam over to investigate. They find that the crew has all been killed by some biological agent -- reduced to a few pounds of chemicals, but a last log from the ship’s doctor (the disease seems to have taken away his ability to act) that tells them by boarding the ship they’re all infected and their only hope is to beam down to the planet.
That’s where things get interesting. Captain Tracy is the most recent Starfleet commander gone mad. He’s effectively taken over the planet, siding with the Congs -- who appear to be Inuit, and are dignified and able to communicate with humans -- and against their rival group, the Yangs, who appear to be a wild, uncivilized people. Tracy’s used his phaser to take control, and taught his local allies about his “fireboxes.”
I really like the idea of a starfleet commander gone rogue like this. Tracy is just unhinged enough to be believable as a madman who believes this is the only way, drunk on his own kool aid. It adds an air of real threat, the way he’s dismissive of Kirk quoting regulation and wise to his tricks. (As an aside, it’s pretty funny that Kirk’s so aghast at Tracy having violated the prime directive, considering how many times he’s pretty brazenly interfered with a local species and left them to pick up the pieces, but whatever).
But what makes this part of the episode really interesting is Tracy’s motive. For one thing, he genuinely believes that he’s trapped on his planet, that what killed his crew will kill him if he dares to leave. But he also thinks he can get rich, or powerful, because he believes he’s found the fountain of youth. What’s fascinating is that he’s half-noble and half-greedy on this account. Sure, he clearly wants to profit from his find, and maybe it’s a rationalization, but he also thinks the veritable fountain of youth, whatever secret these people have found that lets them live for a thousand years, if worth violating the prime directive for. (See also: Star Trek Insurrection).
There’s even an air of tragedy to it once McCoy discovers that, naturally, there is no fountain of youth on the planet. The alleged science is a little incoherent, but the thrust of it is clear -- the locals’ immunity and long life is a product of natural selection and adaptation to their surroundings after biological warfare wiped the less adapted members of their society out, and it’s unable to be replicated.
The tragedy comes with the realization that it was all for nothing. Spock uncovers that Tracy blasted away three phaser power packs’ worth of Yangs to protect the Congs’ cities (which presumably were something he thought he needed to synthesize the cure?), and it turns out he was doing it for a false promise. Tracy is just nuts enough to be dangerous, but just logical enough to still be a threat, and the reveal that his grand quest is a fool’s errand heightens that.
The marginal stuff in the first part of the episode -- the endless scuffle between Kirk and the Yang prisoners he’s with, Spock talking to him through the bars, the chase with Kirk and Tracy -- are fairly pointless, but the core of this section is solid and interesting. There’s hints that it’s supposed to be a polemic on the dangers of germ warfare (apparently Earth had both germ warfare and the Eugenics wars in the 1990s in the Trek universe?), but it’s also a character study -- a Kurtz-like examination of a colonial nation violating all his rules in the name of some mythical holy grail that doesn’t really exist.
The turning point comes when our heroes (and villain) are captured by the Yangs. One of them walks in with an American flag, the score plays an ominous yet patriotic sounding sting, and I just died laughing. The episode half-explains that the Yangs are the Yanks, the Congs are the Communists, and somehow this planet had the exact parallel history of Earth except the “Asiatic” people won the cold war, and drove the Western people into the desert where, for unexplained reasons, they adopted Native American culture.
Oh my goodness is that a stupid, stupid, stupid story development, and it cracked me the hell up. Most of the time when Star Trek is bad, it’s the dull sort of bad, where it’s weak enough to be irksome but competent enough to be dull. But this was the full on, ridiculous sort of bad that cannot help but be entertaining.
It makes so little sense. At least “A Piece of the Action” had the decency to offer the fig leaf of the old book on 1920s gangsters. How did this planet not only develop parallel Capitalists and Communists, but also the exact same American flag and Constitution? Why would otherwise Westernized individuals suddenly adopt Native American identities and rituals just because they have to live in the desert? How did they forget language and have it all turn into a religion. (Alright, maybe that last part is frighteningly plausible.)
So it ends as it must -- with Spock’s psychic powers calling Sulu to come play Big Damn Hero, Kirk beating Tracy in an erstwhile fight to the death but forbearing, and most importantly of all, with Kirk giving one of big, supercilious lectures on the importance of freedom and how great the Good Ol’ US of A is. It’s laughable stuff, but again, the kind of full-throated, absurd sort of laughable stuff, without a hint of irony, that makes it absolutely work as camp even though it doesn’t work at all as the stirring bit of patriotism it’s intended as.
I still don’t know what to make of “The Omega Glory.” Most of it is a pretty standard, well done Trek episode with some very interesting ideas, and then after the big reveal, it turns into an unintentional farce. All I can tell you is that I enjoyed the whole thing, though for the last third, not necessarily for the reasons the episode’s creators intended.
[9.1/10] Maybe the secret trick to getting a good, spiritual, philosophical episode of The Original Series is just to bring Diana Muldaur in as a guest star. It’s hard to believe that the future Dr. Polaski, who rather irked me in her turn on The Next Generation, is such a shot in the arm to Star Trek, both here and in “Return to Tomorrow”.
Muldaur brings a grace but also a firmness in her portrayal of her Star Trek characters. Dr. Miranda Jones is an interesting role to play, requiring her to be both the equal and opposite of Spock as a human with telepathic abilities raised on the Vulcan home world in order to master her abilities. Muldaur is up to the challenge. Writer Jean Lisette Aroeste gives Dr. Jones agency in the story, and Muldaur gives her a presence, and leans into her resistance to the various individuals fawning over her, in a way that makes her a memorable and important guest star right off the bat.
“”Is There No Truth in Beauty,” true to its name, is an episode that plays in both poetry and irony. While philosophical ruminations on the nature of beauty could be tedious in other hands, Aroeste’s script makes exchanges over dinner, or debates between Kirk and Jones feel lyrical, serious, and engaging. Despite the outlandishness of the premise, Star Trek takes it all seriously, and that pays off.
By the same token, it doesn’t shy away from the elegance or ironies of the situation. The notion of a beautiful woman who is blind, and thus unable to see her own beauty, but also who also understands (and is understandably dismissive) of the effect it has on those around her, is an interesting one. By the same token, her affection for Ambassador Kolos, someone no human can look upon, makes sense.
Full disclosure, it’s tough for me to articulate what makes this episode great because so much of it is in the execution, which is laden with layers of complexity and performance that are hard to put into words. For instance, the alien species introduced here, The Medusans, have a ridiculous name, and the idea that merely looking at them in their true form could make a person go mad, could be a ridiculous plot device.
Instead, “Beauty” turns it into a meditation on the nature of aesthetics, and a compelling premise about what makes us who we are and how we’re shaped by the ways in which we can and cannot perceive the world. To that end, the highlight of the episode comes when Spock mind-melds with Kolos and the two become one.
For one thing, it’s another chance for Leonard Nimoy to stretch his acting muscles a bit and portray a version of Spock who is more expressive. (Though to be fair, the show goes to that well fairly frequently.) It’s a treat to hear Spock laugh, to see him call Kirk a good friend, to have him chuckle with recognition of Bones, and speak poetry to Uhura. Making Spock emotional, practically human, for more than about three minutes would quickly start to feel like too much, but the episode whets the audience’s appetite for this glimpse at the repressed inner feelings of Spock without overdoing them.
At the same time, Nimoy and the script craft a quick but compelling character in Kolos. It fits that Muldaur links this episode to “Return to Tomorrow” because the two installments play at similar themes. Kolos remarks on the odd futility of language, again speaking poetically, and marvels at the way corporeal beings are so alone, limited to their shells. It’s a form of lateral thinking, truly capturing the way a different form of life would respond to the novelty of ours, in a fashion that gives force to Kolos’s short time as a humanoid.
There’s also some outstanding direction, design, and editing work in the episode. There’s more directorial creativity here than Trek’s tight production schedule and reduced budgets allow for. But “Beauty” depicts the madness of seeing a Medusan first-hand well. There is a frenetic, dizzying pace to the scenes where humans confront the Medusans.
The tye-dye flashes are a little cheesy, but for the most part the episode does well to convey the mental unraveling through a rush of images. The quick cuts offering different angles on the same events, seeing things from the maddened character’s distorted perspective, and the rapid jumps from one image to another, communicate the mental chaos well.
In the same vein, Particular kudos are owed to David Frankham, who plays Marvik. It’s a tough thing to play a man who goes crazy in the span of about fifteen minutes without seeming too over the top, but Frankham plays his scary “I simply love you too much” just right and then rants and raves in a way that convincingly portrays Marvik’s depleting sanity.
The episode isn’t perfect. Frankly, it goes about one act too long, with the story beat of having to save Spock’s mind after he sees the Medusan unsheathed feels a bit tacked on, even if it’s a necessary challenge for Jones to overcome her insecurities and inability to mentally link with Kolos. And watching Kirk berate and manhandle her so as to prompt that solution is more than a little uncomfortable.
Still, “Beauty” works as a high-minded reflection on what it is to perceive things and how that shapes what we value and how we identify, but also as an interesting plot progression with murder, unique challenges, and elegant solutions. Reveals that Jones is not only blind, but basically Daredevil with her sensor suit are intriguing and add poetry to the proceedings. Marvik steering the ship into an unknown hole in the time space continuum requiring a Medusan to steer them out of it makes for a clockwork problem.
And on top of all of these, the episode spends time to have the characters debating and challenging one another over what really matters aesthetically and qualitatively in life. Star Trek is, as ever, a bit ironically provincial about such things, but it still crafts interesting, unusual characters to communicate opposing views and enunciate opposing perspectives. “Beauty” is a highfalutin episode of Star Trek to be sure (though it has its share of action and excitement) and it’s easy to see how that might bore some folks or scare them away. But I love when Trek gets high-minded and philosophical like this, and bringing back Muldaur to deliver the lyrical dialogue here (and leaning on the talented Nimoy to do the same) results in a poignant and insightful episode.
[8.0/10] We’ve played this game before. (I’m beginning to sound like a broken record talking about how Star Trek is beginning to sound like a broken record.) It’s hard not to think of “Arena” in this one, with the crew being transported against their will into a hostile situation, improvising weapons using the local materials, and being rewarded by their uber-powerful instigators when they show restraint instead of viciousness. This is pretty standard stuff for Trek at this point.
And yet, “Spectre of the Gun” gets by on atmosphere, performance, and the cleverness of its conclusion. I’ll admit, there’s something that still strikes me as cheesy every time our spacemen from the future end up visiting some familiar earthlike civilization (“this week it’s gangsters, then Nazis, then Romans, hooray!”) but there’s an eeriness to transporting Kirk and company to Tombstone, Arizona.
A big part of that comes from the production design. There’s a part of me that assumes the half-pieced together set is a result of budgetary concerns than any real choice to create an eerie, half-formed sense to the surroundings, but either way it works. The episode offers the fig leaf that the Melkotians, despite their psychic abilities, don’t have a great grasp on Earth’s history and that this is the best they can come up with. The result is a boom town that doesn’t feel all there, in a nicely unnerving way.
That lends to a foreboding atmosphere that permeates the episode. Random storefronts flanked by a red sky, shop facades that lead nowhere, clocks floating in the sky without the right flora or fauna help establish the dream-like confines in which our heroes find themselves. Something immediately feels wrong about this place, and it’s a great example of the show using its visual tools to build to the plot’s conclusion.
To the same end, the episode has some really nice shots in it, like the symmetrical framing of Kirk, Spock, Bones, and Scotty tending to Chekov while boxed in by the silhouettes of the Earps. And it’s a neat trick to show the crew’s mind over matter bona fides by shooting them from the back and watching the wooden fence become riddled with bullet holes while they remain unscathed. There’s some cleverness in this script, but despite it’s rehashes, it’s the aesthetics of this one that really rule the day.
Still, the episode also works because of the guest performers and the tone. What’s separates this episode from the prior visits to other civilizations out of time is that “Spectre” mostly plays the Western angle straight. While the gangster planet was explicitly comedic, the Roman planet was over the top, and the Nazi planet was cartoonish and weird, “Spectre” treats things as though the crew of the Enterprise have stumbled their way into a Sergio Leone film.
At times that gets a little corny. The Earps and Doc Holiday announcing themselves rings a bit too much with “here’s a name you might remember” syndrome. But what I like is that the guest actors who play the black hats in this one carry themselves with purpose and, more to the point, menace. There’s an understatedness to them most of the time, something that makes them feel like genuine bad guys from a Western movies, which creates a contrast when they’re juxtaposed with our colorful space-farers. “Spectre” creates antagonists (and allies for that matter) who feel like a real part of their world, not just adjuncts to that of Kirk and company, that makes their bits of intimidation land and create a genuine sense of impending, unavoidable doom.
It’s the way our heroes manage to avoid that doom that really bumps “Spectre” up a notch. What’s great about the episode is that it shows Kirk, Spock, Bones, Scotty, and Chekov using their familiar tricks to try to avoid getting into a shootout at the OK corral, and finding that nothing works. As much as “Spectre” returns to a certain amount of formula, it also has the wherewithal to play out that formula and show Kirk being stymied and ineffectual nonetheless.
Kirk tries diplomacy, and is warned that he’ll be shot on sight if he tries it again. They try running away, but find that leaving Tombstone is impossible, thanks to a Malkotian forcefield. They try improvising a tranquilizer, the sort of MacGyver-esque solution to these problems the show often employs, but it ends up having no effect. They even try just staying put, in the hopes of avoiding the confrontation altogether, but get whisked to the site of the gunfight regardless.
There’s a futile fatalism to this one, a sense in which Kirk can’t just fight or trick his way out of it. There’s no third option, no clever workaround, just a looming confrontation and a literal ticking clock that promises danger and death.
That’s when Spock comes up with a Matrix-esque solution, realizing that the trick to surviving this little pocket world is to understand that it doesn’t truly exist. His clue is that the laws of science don’t work, and thus decides that if they simply focus themselves on the fact that this Tombstone is a fantasy, a construction, they will not be subject to its dangers. It’s a clever way out of the problem. Sure, the necessity of a mind meld feels a little forced, but helps build tension leading up to those final moments.
There’s issues at the margins of this one. The color in the episode is a mixed bag, with Chekov’s dalliance with a local coming off alternatively cute and weird, Scotty’s appreciation for bourbon being entertaining but stereotypical, and the rest of the Western cast going a bit over the top. In addition, “Spectre” drags in places and, as usual, Shatner has a tendency to overact his moral dilemma in not killing these imaginary cowboys that oppose him.
Still, “Spectre” works because even if some of the beats are familiar, and the destination is something of a repeat, to the solution to the problem isn’t, and the atmosphere and mood of the episode is superb. This late in the show’s run, it’s nice that it can still surprise the audience with a tense, unnerving, even nightmarish scenario for our heroes that runs on different logic and a different aesthetic, that allows the show to feel like something different this week.
Going into this movie, I had a faint idea as to what it would be like. I was so wrong. After watching the trailer and reading the synopsis I personally thought of it as a revamped 'The Day After Tomorrow'. If you don't know what that movie is about, it is basically about a father who's trying to get to his son who's stuck in another city while a natural disaster hits. It is still one of my favorites. After watching 'How It Ends' though, I can say that it is firstly nothing like it and secondly far from being as good as I initially thought it would be.
The first few minutes were quite impressive. It had a good setup — not too slow and not too rushed — and what a good movie needs: likeable characters. Personally, I liked the cast a lot, but thought that their performance was only average. It was hard for me to feel the character's chemistry throughout.
After that 'promising' beginning, I wanted answers more than anything. Instead, I got a long, long, long journey through the U.S. with some minor obstacles and a lot of side-stories of characters I barely even knew. Those stories were touched but never really told and after a few minutes the main plot scared them away, never to be seen or heard from again. That resulted in characters appearing and vanishing in an instant without a huge impact on the main story.
So, the whole mid-section felt like a filler. A large portion of the movie was a filler. I wasn't bored, but also far from being satisfied. The few effects and action sequences that the movie had were fine but nothing special. Dialogues felt weak but not unnecessary or forced which is a good thing.
About 85 minutes into it, I was still waiting for something big to happen. I thought the movie (with the way it presented things, creating mystery as to what's going on and such) would soon hit its high with a big finale and a mind-blowing conclusion. But guess what ... that's when it ended. That's when I knew I wasted almost two hours of my time. The movie is titled 'How It Ends' and yet it doesn't even have a real ending. Why? How? What? No answers, no nothing. The whole time you're wondering what's going on, but you'll never get the answer. You'll never get a real conclusion to what's really going on. I'm disappointed and so will many others.
Score: 46 / 100
Since the plot is remarkably the same, I’m just going to copy-paste my original plot analysis from the original film:
“Halloween is about Michael Myers, a man that many years ago, murdered his own sister as a child. Locked away for years, he finally escapes and wreaks havoc on a random set of teenage friends, but not before stalking them first.” – Review of Halloween (1978)
Oh sorry, that’s not exactly accurate – this time, his victims aren’t as random as the original movie. This time, you more or less discover as the film moves along what you discover in the 1981 sequel – that (spoiler alert), Laurie is Michael’s younger sister. So his murderous rage is all about killing his family – that much you know about in the original series, but it’s more than that now, because you now understand on a deeper level how truly horrible his childhood was before he became the monster. In the original film, Loomis briefly explains how he intimately knows the extent of Michael’s evil ways – in this film, we see it. We see his abusive and repulsive family, his budding interest in death beginning with animals, his fascination with masks and self-loathing, and his untamable hatred towards the mental hospital but surprising respect towards Dr. Loomis. We see all of this because it takes its sweet time introducing us to his history that we needed the first time around!
More than that, it introduces us to more than just an idea that this man is evil, but also a physical representation of one heck of an intimidating beast of a man. Seriously, this guy is huge. He’s a hulk. The original film had a typical guy in a mask. Why was he wearing a mask? Because it’s Halloween, I guess…this movie explains everything. It took away all of my complaints about the first movie and then some. The best way I could describe this film is as if they took the script for the original movie, got a better director, got a better writer to rewrite certain scenes and introduce integral elements, got better actors, invested in better equipment and technology, and hired a different director of photography – because it actually shows us what we needed to see that the first film left out. In my honest opinion, this movie improved on just about every level.
However, where it didn’t improve – was partially in casting. I do believe this is the best guy to ever play Michael. It made the most sense, but the rest of the cast was either just fine, or a bad choice. Now, I like Malcom McDowell as much as the next guy, I think he’s a wonderful actor, but Dr. Loomis wasn’t the right choice for him. Loomis needs to be Michael’s opposite, someone caring and understanding but ultimately hurt when he can’t get through to Michael’s inner child. Donald Pleasence did a pretty good job in the first film, but McDowell looks and sounds too evil to play this type of role. It almost went to John Hurt, which would have been perfectly fine. I would have also accepted someone like Liam Neeson in that type of role. Not McDowell. The rest of the cast did a fine job at acting, but not so much at creating something memorable…and the original did when it came to Jamie Lee Curtis.
In my honest opinion Halloween was better than the original – but only on a technical level. It didn’t change anything about the series that was already good to begin with. It just improved on the parts that the original lacked. If you watched the rest of the classic series, you’ll notice that they’re always struggling to explain plot holes in order to make another movie – this movie mostly got that out of the way from the beginning as to not run around aimlessly trying to find direction. As far as horror goes, it’s a solid slasher film. The series has never really been a favorite of mine, but I definitely respect the film went with this remake. Check it out!
[6.7/10] It’s not every day that the Enterprise runs into Abraham Lincoln. “The Savage Curtain” gets credit for its high concept premise -- what if the greatest heroes of history (plus Kirk) squared off against the greatest villains? The mystery that leads up to that match up (How exactly did we just beam aboard the 16th President of the United States?) is a compelling one, but once Kirk and Spock beam down to the planet and the rumble actually goes down, the episode stumbles considerably and ends in one big muddle.
It feels odd to say, but one of the best parts of this episode of Star Trek was its depiction of Lincoln. Lee Bergere gives the man a certain inherent grace and dignity in how he conducts himself, but also a certain playful quality that marks him as a human being and not just a figure on a pedestal. The makeup for Lincoln is a little dodgy in places, but for the most part, between rescue attempts and back and forths with the crew, Honest Abe feels about right for someone who died in the 1800s beaming aboard a starship.
There’s two things that make him work here. The first is that he’s as guileless and puzzled about this situation as anyone. Rather than being an evil alien himself or a willing part of some nefarious plot, he’s just a genial guy who doesn’t know why he’s here or how he knows certain things, just that he’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing. That gives him an interesting part to play, because his very presence suggests a threat, or at least something unusual going on, but he has no answers. The second is the idea that he is a product of Kirk’s conception of Lincoln as a personal hero, giving the two of them a rapport that makes Lincoln seem avuncular and warm to the starship captain.
The problem comes when Kirk, Spock, and Abe beam down to the planet below. The trio run into Surak, the erstwhile patron saint of all Vulcans, who preaches a Gandhi-esque philosophy of peace and nonviolence. It’s then that they all meet Yamek, the latest in a long line of Star Trek’s uber-powerful beings who wants to put the crew in a fight to prove some philosophical point. In this instance, it’s to decide whether good or evil is better.
Yamek introduces team evil, which includes a double-crossing war criminal Colonel, a woman who performed inhumane experiments, Genghis Khan, and notorious Klingon warrior Kahless. (Comic Book Guy alert -- Kahless looks super different than the character we see a glimpse of in The Next Generation, though perhaps it can be excused with the idea that all these figures are reflections of Kirk’s and Spock’s minds, and they’ve only seen ridgeless Klingons). The two groups are then put in a fight to the death, “Arena” style, where the Enterprise is at stake and the crew can watch the battle going down live on pay per view.
The problem is that once the fight gets going things turn pretty dull. Sure, the rock creature facilitating this whole thing is neat design work from the production side, and there’s the playground conversation-level thrill about who would win in a standoff between Abraham Lincoln and the good guys vs. Genghis Khan and the bad guys. But Star Trek has done this sort of shtick so many times that once the novelty of the historical angle wears off, it’s just more foraging for weapons and strategizing on a foam rock planet for vaguely philosophical reasons with little to show for it.
There’s some minor intrigue from Surak taking his peace-loving ways to their logical ends -- namely pleading for understanding, getting killed, and then being staged as part of a trap. And there’s some fun from seeing Lincoln cite his history as a wrestler and a woodsman and try to arrange a rescue. But on the whole, it’s just more generic gladiator material that the show’s done several times before.
What’s odd is that the message of the episode is murky at best. After Lincoln is killed by Colonel Green and the others, Kirk and Spock say the hell with peace or strategy and just beat their opponents with braun and scrapping. That leads Yemak to say that all he’s learned is that good and evil are the same, because they use the same methods and so one prevailing says nothing. Maybe there’s some commentary there on moral equivalency, about how one person thinks them better than another, but when your back’s against the wall we all turn into animals. There’s a hint of that with Lincoln admitting that even though he’s a man of peace, he was the commander-in-chief of the bloodiest war in our nation’s history. But it’s not an idea delivered with much clarity.
Maybe that can be chalked up to complexity. Kirk claims that the difference between him and Colonel Green is that he was fighting to save his people, while Green & Co. were just fighting for power. On the other hand, he chastise Yemak for “doling out life and death,” but Yemak paints himself as a seeker of knowledge and new information just like Kirk is, and that his motivations for staging this fight were the same exploratory impulses that brought Kirk down to the planet in the first place. Again, there’s the potential for some nuance here, but it’s generally lost in rock-throwing tumult of it all.
“The Savage Curtain” isn’t a bad episode. Again, anytime you can put Abraham Lincoln on a spaceship and fighting alien overlords and make it work, you’ve done something noteworthy. But when the episode devolves into the usual “I’m a powerful alien and I’m making you all fight to prove a point” routine, the seams start to show quickly. Star Trek often tries to balance headiness and action, and these skirmishes with high-minded intentions serve that end. Unfortunately, it’s just another well The Original Series has gone to one too many times, to where even throwing in historical figures and an impressive-looking Power Rangers villain instigating can only sustain the same old combat for so long.
While this was probably the weakest episode so far, it still had quite a few good moments in it and overall I enjoyed it. I thought it felt appropriately claustrophobic given that the characters were stuck on a space ship. And the monster had to be some of the best CGI Doctor Who has ever done! It looked so realistic and its movements were so smooth that I fully believed it was actually there. If you think that it was too cutesy, that's fine. Personally, it didn't bother me too much. I actually liked the expectation subversion and the fact that such a little thing could be so threatening.
Some of the dialogue felt clunky and I really wish Chibnall would let someone else actually write an episode (I know we've got a few stories by other screenwriters coming up, which I'm very excited about). And it pains me to say that as brilliant as Jodie is in the role, the writing in this one didn't do her any favors. Don't get me wrong, there were certainly some good lines in there (I liked Thirteen naming all the things she was a doctor of, I thought the goodbye speech to the pilot was beautiful, the Doctor's amazement at the antimatter drive made me fall even more in love with her, and the banter between the Doctor and Yaz while they were waiting for the monster cracked me up), but most of it just didn't flow well, I guess? I can't quite put my finger on it.
We saw Ryan and Graham's relationship develop a bit more, as well as Ryan helping the pregnant guy and encouraging him to keep the baby, telling him that fatherhood isn't about being perfect, but rather about being there for your kids. That's one thing that Chibnall does really well, I think, and it's why so many moments this season have reminded me of Broadchurch: those long, character-focused conversations, often accompanied by close-ups keeping the focus on the characters' faces, allowing the emotions to shine through. It's the kind of thing that you don't see much of in sci-fi and it's definitely one of the main reasons why this season feels so different from the previous ones. Not bad different, but there's been undeniably a big change in the overall tone of the show, which I imagine some fans might not appreciate. Personally, I like that they're doing something new and those quiet moments let me connect with the characters more, which is a big plus.
So, was this a bit of a mess? Yes, yes it was. But as a rule, I always try to focus on the positives because life's just more fun that way. I certainly wouldn't call this a bad episode by any means, and I'm 100% certain that it's going to end up being a lot more memorable than most of season 10, for example (I love you, Peter, but I don't remember what happened in that season for shit). It's not the first so-so story in the show's history and it won't be the last, but since the previous 4 episodes were really good, this little bump in the road doesn't worry me. I'm sure there's plenty of quality writing and good fun ahead.
Oh, and one last thing: at this rate the TARDIS will have to handcuff the Doctor inside so she stops losing her. Seriously, it's getting embarrassing. Give us more scenes in the TARDIS!
I hate that lee killed sofia. And that sofia was taken out of the show. And that sofia was taken out of the show this early, and by lee. Oh except shes not dead but in a coma even after being shot in the head. Jesus christ. I hate that lee has taken over the gallows or whatever again. But over time i may warm up to it. Though i did like her behavior when crushing that guys hand. Jesus christ i'm disappointed, and i knew something like this would happen because of the writers hard on for lee and barbara. I don't like what's going on with barbara right now, like wtf is with her seeing ra's. When he did that thing much earlier in the season i thought he made he pregnant or was already pregnant or something and would birth talia, god that would have been bad, so at leats what happened mabye looks to like she isn't pregnant, which some to think of it would make sense since it's been months over the episodes. That bruce and slina bit was nice. Some good things in the episode and lee was alright/not bad until when she killed sofia. Like, a better thing would have been either hitting her in the back of the head knocking her out, so she could then be arrested. Or shhot her first like she did, and then knock her out instead of shooting her in the head and killing her, oh fuck off. Writers have a hard on for lee and barbara.
Tetch escape again?, really?, ok i guess, i'll see where it goes. It was a good but not great episode with many things i disliked. One of the things i liked which i think was in this episode was where, barbara gets a bit more dpeth, you know when tabitha is saying oh the usual barbara isn't like this, and basically in that dialogue barbara got a little more dpeth which was nice, but it's completely more or less squandered later. Barbara as the leader of the league of shadows...are you freaking kidding me. What a terrible decision, the writers have a huge hard on for this character. That scene with tetch squashing those people with the ball was good. I hated once those other people in the league were killed it was just a few people left, and all women, and something about all woman league or some bs. What bs and sexist bs. I hated barbaras hand to hand skills, that she defeated one of the league so easy, more bullshit. Good harv and gordon bits. I hate barbara is even alive, i hate her initial involvement with ra's, what illogical bullshit and also his behaviour and actions toward her. Man come to think of it this season pretty much screwed the ra's character, but he was never that good to begin with at all.
And...another arkham breakout, and crap security. How many times has this sort of thing happened in the show, a huge amount and it's a bit annoying by now, it's more like a joke. Thought joker/jerome would be smarted, he got captured too easily, but i guess he is young but eh. Nice bruce and selina bits.
This has got to be one of the best episodes of Gotham! I was glued to the screen the whole time! Damn, this was an intense one!
So, it seems Jeremiah went for the classic version of the Joker (suited up and looking all nice and tidy), but with a twist: even though he's clearly batshit crazy, he's not insane. He's methodical and controlled, unlike his brother. At first I did not like this version of the (alleged) Joker, but now Jeremiah's interpretation of him is definitely intriguing me. It still bothers me the absence of the trademark laughter or even the occasional smile (he only smiled once during the whole episode, I think), which seems way off for the Joker persona, but Jeremiah sure is pulling off an interesting version of our beloved villain. Though, as of right now, his character seems to be played too close to The Riddler (both wearing a suit and looking quite dapper, both very smart, both crazy but not insane, both rather rational in thought and actions). I do hope Jeremiah's (alleged) Joker will be able to solidify his personality and set himself apart from other villains in this show, in the next episodes.
Also, Bruce and Selina make one of the cutest couples on TV, right now. It's adorable when they get all cozy together! Too bad about that ending, which will most likely stir things up between the two, unfortunately (though that would eventually happen, anyway)
This season is gearing up for one hell of a finale!
Pretty solid finale for a wonderful season. I'm really happy we get to see another season - it will be shorter and there is a long wait involved, but it gives the writers an opportunity to finish it properly nonetheless.
The highlight of the season (and possibly the whole show for me) was Cameron Monaghan's performance, both as Jerome and Jeremiah. I was a bit unsure when the "change" to Jeremiah was made, I think a lot of us fans had a soft spot for Jerome, but Jeremiah quickly became just as memorable in my head, with such a threatening presence on screen. As far as I know, the writers said neither of the two are the actual Joker (unless they said more I'm unaware off). I wonder if yet another version of the "Monaghan" Joker could be the real deal, I've been thinking of this ever since the "three soups" episode - could it be a reference to the "three Jokers" of the comics?
By contrast, the least interesting story this season I felt was Ra's al Ghul, particularly all that involved his relationship with Barbara, and just the Barbara character overall (though I think the Sirens as established in the end could be pretty cool). Those bits always felt like fillers for me, just like in this episode - even though Ra's is instrumental in not only Bruce's story but also Jeremiah now, I find his moments in Gotham so uninteresting. I feel more or less the same about Lee/Nygma, that just went nowhere... sort of drags the episode down a little.
It sucks that Butch died - based on some articles with Drew Powell (the actor) he isn't coming back. Of course, with Hugo Strange in the mix there's no such thing as a permanent death, I guess we'll only find out then. The funny thing about it is, immediately before Penguin shot him, I kept feeling Penguin was being too good/collaborative and thought on how "non villain" he is as we near the end... but then he did it. Penguin is Penguin after all, which is good.
The end felt very "Arkham City" (the videogame), with chaos as the villains take over. Seeing Gordon and Bruce in that rooftop was pretty cool - Bruce may not be Batman just yet, but he has come a long way. A lot of the negative criticism I see about the show tends to be about how the villains are becoming full villains... while Bruce is not even an adult yet. Personally, I always felt like this is "another story" - a prequel, yes, but of something else as a multiverse type thing, allowing the writers to treat the origins of these characters creatively even though Bruce is still a kid.
Well, time to wait now. In 2019 we shall see the Bat... and also... Man-Bat???
Rami Maleks acting is perfect, mimics, moves... you can see that he was into Mercury element! But also L. Bonyton played great as Mary, G. Lee as Brian and B. Hardy as Roger. So for acting cast has 10 from me! However since this is biopic there were slight changes in timeline (when Mercury found he has AIDS). Also if you ask me since we saw a lots of movies whit duration of 3 hours, since Bohemian Rhapsody song was 6 minutes long and since they skiped a lot of interesting points as during their tour in USA Brian collapsed as he was diagnosed with hepatitis (in movie other members are presented as polite guys and only Mercury was freak - but hepatitis did not came by itself), or their famous free concert in Hyde park London where 150.000 people listen them, or album Jazz and Don't stop me now song from that album that showed great vocal posibillities of all band members, or Game tour in Argentina where they had audience of 300.000 fans or Live in Rio, and what about collaborations... 1st time with Bowie in Under Pressure or Caballe in Barcelona... and what about the end and The show must go on...
So 45 minutes are missing... I do not care about Mercury's sex life as critics would like to see. If you ask me I enjoyed go to movie with my kids and show them what kind of music their parents were listening... as there is no band as Queen and probably will not be for a long time in future! For missing some important scenes from Queens great life I give 8. So all toghether it is great movie that I enjoyed watching and afer I came home ofcourse I tourned youtube and watched once again Queen at Wembley at Live Aid!
La...la...la...la...la
Now that I've lost everything to you
You say you wanna start something new
And it's breaking my heart you're leaving
Baby I'm grieving
And if you wanna leave take good care
Hope you have a lot of nice things to wear
A lot of nice things turn bad out there
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world
It's hard to get by just upon a smile
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world
I'll always remember you like a child girl
You know I've seen a lot of what the world can do
And it's breaking my heart in two
'Cause I never want to see you sad, girl
Don't be a bad girl
But if you wanna leave take good care
Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there
Just remember there's a lot of bad and beware
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world
It's hard to get by just upon a smile
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world
And I'll always remember you like a child girl
La...la...la...la...la...baby, I love you.
But if you wanna leave take good care
Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there
Just remember there's a lot of bad and beware
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world
It's hard to get by just upon a smile, yeah, yeah, yeah,
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world
And I'll always remember you like a child girl, oh, yeah.
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world
It's hard to get by just upon a smile, yeah,
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world
And I'll always remember you like a child girl
[9.1/10] I sang the praises of D.C. Fontana in my writeups for The Original Series, so I won’t spend much time rehashing them here, but I’ll say this much -- she is such a boon to Star Treks of all shapes and sizes. I don’t think there’s a writer, particularly from the TOS-era of the show, who better understood that for all the science fiction wizardry at play, you have to nail the characters and their experience of all that futuristic brick-a-brack to turn out the best Star Trek episodes.
That’s what’s great about “Yesteryear.” It has a fantastic sci-fi premise that involves our heroes returning to The Guardian from “City on the Edge of Forever” and having more back-in-time adventures. I find it amusing that despite the kind of ominous threat and danger The Guardian posed in its first appearance, now Starfleet is using it to casually explore the past and employing it as a historical DVR. Naturally, this goes wrong, and when Kirk and Spock return from visiting the dawn of the society on Orion, nobody remembers who Spock is.
The explanation is a little headache-inducing, but also elegant. In this timeline, Spock died when he was seven-years-old. Kirk and Spock, who are sure that they didn’t interfere with the past in any way in their trip to ancient Orion (“I swear I didn’t touch that slave girl!”), try to piece together what happened. In a neat bit of clockwork time travel plots, Spock recalls that an older cousin, Selek, helped the young Spock when he was going through the Vulcan trials in the desert at the time of his death in this timeline. Though the memory is vague, the adult Spock realizes that he was Selek, and he has to go back through The Guardian now to complete the stable time loop.
Some of the chronological tricks used to get there feel a little contrived. Apparently the fact that Kirk and Spock were using The Guardian to travel back in time to Orion at the same time some other Starfleet dignitaries (including some wild pterodactyl man!) were reviewing the history of Vulcan at that time meant that Spock “couldn’t be a two places at once” and messed up the time loop. It’s kind of hard to wrap your head around, but makes enough surface-level sense to pass the smell test.
But what’s great about “Yesteryear,” and Fontana’s scripts generally is that the episode doesn’t just coast on the “hey, isn’t it cool to go back in time!” novelty of The Guardian. It uses Spock returning to his childhood home and visiting with the moppet version of himself as a means to elucidate the struggle Spock had growing up between honoring his Vulcan side and his Human side. It spotlights Spock’s difficult relationship with his father. It lets Leonard Nimoy shine as a voice actor as the elder Spock speaks knowingly with his younger self.
The best feature of the episode is how it presents the audience with the elder Spock we know and love -- stoic, measured, and disciplined -- and a young Spock we’ve never seen before -- headstrong, uncertain, and emotional -- and naturally makes the viewer wonder how he got from A-to-B. “Yesteryear” doesn’t give every detail (it doesn’t have the time afterall), but it presents a seminal moment in young Spock’s life that set him on the course to being the noble Vulcan man he is today.
That moment hinges on I-Chaya, Spock’s childhood pet sehlat. (Think of a cross between a dog and a saber toothed tiger.) It’s clear that the I-Chaya is very important to young Spock. His mother mentioned it in “Journey to Babel,” and this episode takes care to mention that it first belonged to Sarek so it’s a family pet and part of his legacy. At the same time, it’s clear from young Spock being derided by his peers as an “Earther,” warned by his father about the difficulties of their way of life, and speaking with a mother who wants to honor the Vulcan ways she’s adopted, that I-Chaya is Spock’s dearest friend and closest confidante.
That’s why it’s meaningful when I-Chaya saves young Spock from a wild le-matya (think of a cross between a dragon and a wolf), young Spock has to try to repay his friend. “Selek” helps young Spock figure that he needs to run to town to fetch a healer if he has any hope, disclaiming his prior practical jokes in the process. When the healer explains that I-Chaya is fatally wounded, young Spock has to choose between extending his furry friend’s life, which would be painful for it, or “releasing” him. It’s a choice between emotion -- wanting to preserve someone young Spock loves, and between maturity -- understanding that all things end and that the right thing to do is grant I-Chaya that one last kindness.
There is something poetic about elder Spock, in his guise as a distant cousin, teaching his younger self about Vulcan philosophy. It’s one of the most beautiful accounts of the Vulcan perspective Star Trek has ever presented. Spock speaks of Vulcans still experiencing emotions, but not letting themselves be controlled by them, of feeling grief, but only when a life is wasted, of accepting that everything ends but appreciating the time shared before that inevitability. The young Spock is clearly in conflict, struggling with whether he can be what his father wants him to be, whether he can find the center of himself. The act of the elder Spock giving him gentle guidance serve as a tremendous character-building moment for Spocks old and new.
There is something wistful about the elder Spock here, where recognizes the difficulties of those times but clearly appreciates his chance to revisit them from a different vantage point. His words to his father about trying to understand his son are about as sentimental as the Vulcan gets, and his half-joking admonition to Bones that, had things been different, the doctor might have had to calibrate his devices for an Andorian, show that there’s still a part of that playful little boy within the older Spock. (And as an aside, it’s a nice beat where the Andorian first officer gives Spock his blessing and goodbye.)
Time travel stories are often fun because they often take the shape of what-ifs. It’s exciting to imagine what might have been if some detail were changed, or gawk at the precursors and causes to the present day effects. But Fontana uses that to explore the distance between a child and an adult, those life-changing moments where we choose who we are, and the reflections on what we became and what we lost in the process. There is great poetry in that, a sort of it hardly possible outside of the science fiction context, and “Yesteryear” embraces it to the fullest.
[5.9/10] Wasn’t a big fan of this one. It’s basically a mashup of various stories Star Trek has done before. The sentient cloud threatening to travel from planet to planet is right out of “Obsession.” The giant organism in space that may or may not be alive and only responds to antimatter is the same as “The Immunity Syndrome.” And Spock mind melding with creatures they can’t otherwise communicate with works for everything from the horta to NOMAD to the Medusan. It makes the whole episode feel pretty rote.
What’s good about it, then? Well, for one thing, I like Kirk’s sensitivity but decisiveness here. There’s moral questions raised about killing an intelligent lifeform, but when pressed about destroying the cloud before it destroys a planet, he talks about what one life is worth vs. eighty million lives down there. He doesn’t relish it, but his considerations of the governor of Antilles and his daughter helps humanize the conflict.
There’s also some nice design work. Again, the animation is pretty stiff all around, but the swirling reds once the Enterprise is inside the cloud creature is pretty cool. It has a real Fantastic Voyage quality to it.
Otherwise, the episode spends a lot of time dragging out Spock’s meld with the cloud and it learning that there are other lives. It’s a cool enough concept, but there’s so much stalling and the ticking clock so cliché that it doesn’t have much force. Overall, it’s a big bout of repetition with only the design work and some interesting moral questions for Kirk to recommend it.
[7.3/10] I have to say, it’s nice to see Uhura get to be the driver of an episode for once. TOS was pretty exclusively the Kirk, Spock, and Bones show, with Scotty occasionally getting to be the main character for an episode, so it’s pleasant to get to see one where Uhura takes command of the ship, uses her wits, and saves the day.
The premise of the episode is somewhat silly, but nicely sci-fi. The Enterprise is in the intergalactic Bermuda Triangle (after coordinating with the Klingons!) just in time for the mysterious event that happens every twenty-seven years to happen. It turns out to be a planet of sirens, who lure men to their planet and suck their life force away after tempting them and plying them with this or that.
I’d almost call it a sexist metaphor if it weren’t for the fact that this is probably the most capable and sharp the franchise has ever made Uhura seem. Kirk, Bones, and even Spock get suckered in by their enchantments. (And Scotty sings an old Scottish air, seemingly just to pass the time). The episode drags a bit in places as this whole thing is obviously a trap and none of the men can seem to resist it, but that’s pretty much the point.
(I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that there’s some more great design work for the palace and grounds of the women on the planet. For all the stiltedness of the animation, the show does know how to make the most of the cartoon setting to create some nicely elaborate and beautiful “sets.”)
The only thing that really keeps this episode from being higher is that there’s a lot of extraneous, silly stuff in it. The women’s technology being operated by tones made me laugh out loud. The entire end bit with the men of the Enterprise being de-aged using the transporter was unnecessary (just have the women reverse the process or something) and opens up a big can of worms. And the whole belaboring the resettlement of the women on the planet felt like more than we needed.
Still, seeing Uhura and Nurse Chapel not only avoid befalling the latest alien wizards’ spells, but then taking control and winning the day, is a real treat. (And for a Spock-Nurse Chapel shipper like me, it was nice to hear a dying Spock call her Christine and implore her for help.) Another fun outing from the show.
"Death. It's like it moves in and never leaves."
What a dreary, slow, monotonous waste of 90 minutes! This film is like a checklist of horror cliches brought to life. They're all included just for the sake of it. Seriously, these things happen for absolutely no reason and are never explained (someone's nose randomly starts bleeding, there's a blocked off passageway in a cellar, some old lady acts like a creepy-ass bitch and so on). There is no point to them actually happening. None whatsoever.
///// The following four paragraphs contain spoilers but please read them anyway because you should not watch this movie /////
The antagonist is absolutely ridiculous. He just... does things. He moves someone's cereal bowl from their bedroom to the living room in the time it takes that person to travel between those two rooms. How? And, more importantly, why?!
He attacks someone, then while they're on the ground he pours water on them. Why? Did he want them to slowly freeze to death outdoors? Does he just think it's amusing when people are drenched in water? Why not, I dunno, kill them maybe?
He lies down in bed next to someone while they're asleep. In the middle of the night this person wakes up and looks through a pile of family photos. The antagonist has somehow managed to take photos of this person while they're sleeping, develop/print them and sneak them into the pile of family photos in literally no time at all. How did he know they would wake up and start looking through photos? WHAT IS THE POINT OF THIS?
You never learn anything about the antagonist. His motivations? No. His possible connection to a murder that takes place at the beginning? No. He just wants to murder these people because they had an open house. What a giant middle finger to the audience.
The main reason I decided to watch this movie was because of all the good things I'd heard about it. The fact that it's in black and white did put me off a bit but because when modern movies are made in black and white it's a style choice and most of the time it doesn't really add much to it. A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night (2014) was also black and white and I enjoyed that one so I decided to give it a try.
I can't say I was as blown away by this movie as a lot of other people were but it definitely wasn't bad. After 1 hour of watching it I still wasn't sure what the point of the movie was but as it turns out it's just a story about a womans day to day life working for this not-so-perfect family. It is very real though and not in some epic very hollywood way. It just shows a very real human experience.
It's a slow movie and it's definitely not dramatic(although it does have its intense moments) so if you're expecting something grand and fast-paced you're bound to be dissapointed.
The amount of dog shit in this movie gave me anxiety. I also really wish I could kick Fermín in the nuts, proper dickhead that one.
Not my favorite episode of the show, but I like the concept behind it. There's a lot of meat on the bone in the idea of things going well for Jimmy, that he's finally on his feet, finding his niche, and being able to advance his career a bit, and that he's willing to sacrifice most, if not all of that (less the money he gives back and more his growing prospects) because it would come at the cost of Kim's career.
I have to admit that I'm not the biggest fan of the Kim character. Her performance feels very muted compared to the array of very vivid personalities that populate the rest of the show (even more reserved ones like Mike.) What's more she seems mostly like a prop. I'm not saying she's underdeveloped exactly. While she's something of a cipher (and I think that has as much to do with the somewhat staid performance rather than the part as written), she has clear motivations, some of which conflict (her desire to do well in Hamlin's firm and a heart-of-hearts desire to be more in the trenches like Jimmy, whom she appreciates if not exactly respects), and as seen here, she has an identity separate from the protagonist.
But at the same time she just kind of feels like a space-eater. Part of that is probably just that the moral dilemma, which this show has been good about setting up so far, feels so simple. Jimmy's decision is whether to take the Kettlemans on as clients, something he's wanted since episode one, and which would not only allow him to keep the bribe they paid him, but allow him to spit in the eye of Hamlin, whom he hates with a fiery passion, or to give this all up for a woman he clearly has feelings for and whom he wants the best of things for. Again, it's not a bad idea, it's just presented a little too tidily here.
But the show wrings what it can from the idea. I don't know that I needed Jimmy to try to kick in the door of the office he'll never have, the same place where Kim turned down his offer to be his partner, to drive the point home. It said something we already figured from the moment he answered the phone is phony British accent. But at the same time, Odenkirk is such a pro and sells the devastation of the moment, and the way that Jimmy feels the cost of doing the right thing, that he's able to salvage it.
And there's great scenes that are part and parcel with the storyline. The Kettlemans, Mrs. Kettleman in particular, have never been funnier than in this episode, with Jimmy's sarcastic responses to Mrs. Kettleman's proclamations that there is no money being the highlight. (Though his referring to them as Ned and Maude Flanders got a big laugh out of me.) As I've mentioned before, this show (and its predecessor) knows how to do comedy in the midst of drama ridiculously well, and seeing Jimmy's incredulous and sarcastic response to the Kettleman's head-in-the-sand routine was a treat. (Not to mention the McGill bingo cards!)
And we also get a scene of Mike being Mike, showing his detective roots in a well-directed and scored sequence where he tracks down the money. Some of this show's best moments are wordless, being able to tell a story entirely with images and gestures and expressions. It's an engaging part of the episode that just makes Mike Ehrmantraut's badass cred go up, not that he needed the boost. And the line "thanks for not going to the Bahamas with this" was the icing on the cake.
Overall, this wasn't Better Call Saul's best outing, but that's no crime on a show this good. The central story was a bit too simple and even a hint bland for a show with such flavor to it, but there's plenty to like along the way despite that.
Jimmy has hustle. Mike feels obligated to help his daughter-in-law. And Jimmy loves his brother.
It's so easy to boil these episodes down to a few simple themes, and yet it's the way the show depicts and explores them that makes it superlative.
Take Mike's storyline for instance. It's literally three scenes, each of them fairly short, and yet all of them communicate a great deal about who Mike is and what his motivation and moral calculus is in that brief time. When Mike is on the phone with his daughter-in-law in the tollbooth, we see him not only stand at attention, but wave someone through the gate without bothering to check their stickers. If there's one thing we've seen from Mike in Better Call Saul, it's a devotion to the rules of the parking lot, where he hassles Jimmy and even if it seems dumb, he falls back on the fact that it's just "the rules." And yet he tells his son's wife that he'll drop whatever he's doing, whenever he needs her. We see that dramatized as suddenly those same rules have no purchase with the previously doctrinaire Mr. Ehrmentraut, and it emphasizes the truth of his promise to help her however he can, with the subtext of his guilt for, in his mind, taking her husband away from her.
Then we see the not-so-subtle manipulation from Stacey, who initially asks Mike if it's okay to spend the money that effectively got her husband killed, and after receiving Mike's blessing, seamlessly segues into talking about how hard it is to make ends meet without him. She let's the silence after this statement hang in the air before sneaking a furtive glance at Mike. Mike's a smart guy; he has to know that Stacey is effectively using Mike's guilt to convince him to help them out financially. It's not necessarily craven; as a single mother of a young child, she likely needs a great deal of support. and yet at the same time, it does feel uncomfortable to see her taking advantage of Mike's guilt rather than simply asking him for help. But the look on Mike's face says it all, and speaks to the depth of those feelings of remorse and regret. So when we see him back at the vet's office, looking for "work," we get one step closer to the Mike we know and love Breaking Bad.
Throughout all of this, Mike never once says how important Stacey and her daughter's well-being are to him; we never hear him say how much his guilt over his son's death still drives him; and we never hear him say that's he's dipping into the underworld in order to help support Stacey and clear his conscience for what happened with Matty. And yet all of those things are 100% clear from his actions, from what we know about the character from prior episodes, and from the relationships the show has built so far. It's not even that big a part of the episode! And it still moves Mike's arc forward quite a bit in a very limited amount of screentime because of how much it says without saying anything.
That's the beauty of Better Call Saul (or, at least the beauty apart from wonderfully composed and framed shots like the one at the end of this episode). Vince Gilligan and his lieutenants know how to tell you what a character is thinking, what they're feeling, what's pushing them in one direction or another, with the characters rarely having to announce or vocalize these things. In fact, the show's pretty good about having a character declare something about themselves or their intentions while conveying the opposite. It's the epitome of "show, don't tell" storytelling, and it's one of the things that makes the series so engaging despite the fact, or perhaps because, you can boil a given episode's big ideas down to a few short sentences.
In the same vein, no one in "RICO" ever tells us that Jimmy has the utmost admiration and affection for his brother, or that what he lacks in Chuck's brilliance he makes up for in sweat, or that the scales are tipped against him. But it all comes through loud and clear.
The hustle is the easiest to process. The idea that Jimmy worked in the mailroom of his brother's firm, that he used distance learning to make up his remaining credits, that he found a law school that would accept him and managed, after a couple of failed attempts, to pass the bar, shows remarkable commitment and perseverance. And when we see him combing through a dumpster in order to find the shredded documents he needs to make his RICO case against the nursing home, when we see him tirelessly trying to piece together the shredded documents, we see him working harder than his well-heeled colleague on the other side of the case would ever have to. It comes through, and we learn a little more about who he is, what makes him admirable despite a certain shadiness, and what differentiates him from the other folks in his orbit.
But we also see some really cleverness from him. He's obviously not the precedent-spouting legal whiz that Chuck is, but he picks up on the irregularities in the story his wills client is telling him; he figures out a MacGyver-esque plan to write a demand letter and try to stop the spoliation of evidence then and there, and he even has the wherewithal to stake out the nursing home's garbage to collect the evidence (with proper legal support for why it's acceptable!) even if he's not quite clever enough to check the recycle bins first.
And it's also clear that Jimmy both loves and admires his brother. Again, the show never outright says that Jimmy became a lawyer because 1. he wanted to make his brother proud of him and 2. he respects Chuck so much that he thought the best way to make himself respectable would be to emulate his brother, but that subtext (and Chuck's bemused, slightly incredulous, but warm surprise at the news in the flashback), is palpable throughout. There's something aspirational about Jimmy here, and that makes the audience all the more apt to side with him when Hamlin crushes his dreams of working alongside chuck (in a wonderfully effective, dialogue-free scene), or when the nursing home's lawyers try to intimidate and condescend to him.
Jimmy wants to become his brother's equal, to measure up to the man who always stood out as the best a McGill could be in contrast to his good-for-nothing little brother. He loves Chuck, and while Chuck can be a bit patronizing to Jimmy as well, the affection is clearly mutual, as is the pride when Chuck realizes what Jimmy's managed to uncover. And Chuck is revitalized by that. He's quiet and nervous in the negotiation until he speaks up and demands the $20 million like the legal ace we see in the opening flashback.
The series has yet to tell us how Chuck went from being the star partner we see in that flashback to the beleaguered shut-in we meet at the beginning of Better Call Saul, but what we've seen thus far suggests that he's suffered a loss, a setback, that made him not himself, that made him feel less than capable, and that he became convinced of his electromagnetic sensitivity as a way to shield or excuse himself from that. And we see Jimmy putting little breadcrumbs to help bring his brother back to who he was. That's what makes the scene at the end of the episode so flabbergasting, where Chuck is once again in his element, to the point that he doesn't even realize he's stepped outside without any ill-effects. There's still problems on the horizon (Chuck's partnership agreement and the use of his billing code seems like a Chekov's gun for one thing), but the enormity of that moment, and the build to get there, are all expressed with hardly a word, and without ever making those concepts too literal or blunt. It's a thing of beauty, and part of what makes "RICO" such a superlative episode of television, and Better Call Saul a great series right out of the gate.
Sometimes you have to cross a line. Sometimes, you do everything right; you do everything the way you believe that it should be done, and you still lose. Your forbearance, your good deeds, your extra effort to do the right thing, only enabled the bad guys, only let them profit from their misbehavior. So you have to make compromises. You have break some of the rules yourself; you have to sully yourself by playing their game; you have to be like the bad guys to beat the bad guys, for the greater good.
These are the thoughts motivating Mike Ehrmantraut as he wraps his hands around the rifle he'd previously shied away from. But they're the same ones going through Chuck's head as he tricks his brother into incriminating himself on tape.
Mike has a code. He doesn't want to kill people. His shaky hand after his run-in with Hector's henchmen shows he doesn't even want to hurt people. And he certainly doesn't want an innocent person to come to harm because of a choice he makes. But as Asimov explored in the short stories involving his Three Laws of Robotics, sometimes these principles conflict; sometimes they pull a person in different directions and force them to make some hard choices.
The eminently capable Mr. Ehrmantraut tried to abide by his no-kill policy, and still deliver a blow to his erstwhile rival. He tried to exact his vengeance on Hector in a way that would take the crime boss out of the picture, but also keep the innocents out of harm's way, and insulate himself and his family from the Salamancas' reach. Instead, it all goes sideways. Bad luck keeps the cops off of Hector's trail. A Good Samaritan loses their life in the exchange. And the man Mike went to great lengths to leave still kicking is summarily executed in the desert.
Mike tried. He tried very, very hard to have his cake and eat it too, to earn the money that he thinks will help him buy his soul back after the death of his son, to dip his toe in the mud without getting too dirty. He tried, and he lost anyway.
So it's come to this -- a sniper's nest overlooking a Salamanca hideout in the harshness of the New Mexico desert. His silent vow not to take a life, his distaste for snuffing out another man's existence, have to be put aside. More harm will be done--at least in the final tally--if he doesn't violate that code. He buys the sort of weapon he turned down the last time he considered killing a Salamanca. He sets up from his far away vantage point, to where his enemies seem to be in miniature -- tiny lives off in the distance. He lines up his shot. And he waits.
Then, that pesky moral code comes back again. At the moment of truth, Nacho stands between him and Hector. The greater good says do it. The pure utilitarian says that Hector will continue to inflict misery and pain, that Nacho isn't exactly an angel himself, and that a semi-innocent man will be killed regardless of whether Mike shoots or doesn't, so he may as well take out the real bad guy in the process. The retributivist says that Hector deserves it, for threatening a little girl, for ordering the death of an innocent person, for having a man killed who may not be nearly as innocent, but whose only crime in Hector's eyes was succumbing to Mike's scheme.
But Mike can't. He just can't. It's the reason he caught a beating instead of taking a life in the first place. It's the reason he gave Nacho half of his money for taking the rap for Tuco. It's the reason he's spurred on to right this wrong in the first place. Only the people who kill the innocent--Hector Salamanca, Matty's murderers--deserve to die, and Mike just doesn't have it in him to stomach the collateral damage that would come along with preventing Hector from hurting anyone else. The moment passes; another undeserved death takes place, and Mike waits once more.
Until the sound of his car horn calls him away. He finds a branch lodged between the seat and the steering wheel, calling his attention to a note with a simple message -- "don't." Someone is smart enough to know what Mike is up to, and has a different plan. Who is that someone? [Speculative Spoilers here -- an enterprising redditor found that if you take the first letters of all the episode titles in Season 2, they make an anagram for the phrase "Fring's Back."] We don't know for sure yet. But it's someone who wants to stop Mike from going through with it. Mike is ready; he's been pushed past his limit and he's ready to do what needs to be done, but his conscience and outside forces keep him from crossing that line.
Chuck has no such limitations, either from within or without. But the episode's cold open gives us a window into what drives him, what's shaped the way he looks at his brother. Chuck has tried to be an upstanding man, at least from his own perspective. While Jimmy is reminiscing about a crazy time at their mother's birthday party, Chuck only remembers everyone else having to clean up Jimmy's mess, literally and figuratively. While Jimmy strolls off to grab a sandwich, Chuck waits dutifully with his comatose mom. And when he's alone, he breaks down. Chuck may seem heartless at times, but he is still a man of feeling, and his quickly recovered demeanor when the nurse comes in suggests that, like Hamlin, he may put on a mask to project the image he thinks he needs to uphold, regardless of how he really feels.
Then his mother lurches back to life for just a moment, and Chuck is captivated once more. But with her final breath, does she call for the son who stayed by her side? The one Who made something of himself? The one who was there to help his parents rather than exploit them? No, she calls for Jimmy. The hurt, the jealousy in Chuck's eyes looms large. This is the final insult, the last thumb in his eyes that for all Chuck's good deeds, for all his effort to do right, to be right, everyone, even his own Mother, loves the personable Jimmy McGill just a little bit more. Chuck keeps their mother's final words from his brother--better to keep him from enjoying the fruits of his misbegotten labors--but their sting lingers.
(Incidentally, it's a great little swerve to show Jimmy waiting beside at the hospital, only to then reveal his brother sitting next to him, letting the audience know that this is a flashback and not the aftermath of Chuck's incident at the copy shop.)
That's how Chuck processes these events, and that's what's lurking in the back of his mind when he realizes that Jimmy has sabotaged him. Jimmy can't be allowed to him win. He can't continue to prosper and benefit from stepping outside the lines just because he knows how to work a crowd. He can't be a bad actor and still be rewarding by living so large and so well on the back of so many lies and cheats and shortcuts. As Jesse Pinkman so memorably put it, he can't keep getting away with it.
To prevent that, to expose Jimmy for what Chuck thinks he really is, he has to take a page out of his brother's playbook. Chuck's plan to entrap his brother into confessing his misdeeds on tape is nigh-Machiavellian, but also feels like the sort of scheme that Jimmy himself would cook up.
One of the interesting things about Better Call Saul as its developed over the course of two seasons is the way it's explored the idea that as different as Chuck and Jimmy seem on the surface, there's a great deal of common ground between them. Chuck's shown a certain duplicitousness before -- in how he's used Howard as his hatchet man or pushed his partner to punish Kim as a way of getting to Jimmy. But this is something different, something more elaborate and even sinister. The layers to to Chuck's ruse, the misdirection, the orchestration, the cleverness in how he pulls it off all reek of Slippin' Jimmy. The younger McGill brother may be more personable, but there's a craftiness that he and Chuck share. Chuck may not have his brother's golden tongue, but he still knows what buttons to push when it comes to the CEO of Mesa Verde, and he knows how to pull off a plan as meticulous, manipulative, and perfectly-calculated as any of Jimmy's.
What's ironic about is that at the same time Chuck is becoming more like the man he misguidedly believes his brother to be, Jimmy is doing the same, but in the opposite direction. "Klick" may be the most overtly moral and upstanding we've ever seen Jimmy be. He rushes into the copy shop and starts directing traffic to get his brother some help, even though it will expose his attempt to cover his tracks. (And kudos to Michael McKean, who was amazing throughout the episode, but was especially good in his wordless but meaningful reaction when he sees Jimmy as he regains consciousness.) He stays by his brother's side throughout Chuck's recovery. He draws a line in the sand that despite everything that's happened, he won't commit Chuck, because it's not what he brother would want. He agonizes over subjecting Chuck to those tests even if he believes it's in Chuck's own best interests. He gives up his temporary guardianship even if it would leave Chuck, as he puts it, right where Jimmy wants him. He has a look of guilt when he watches the commercial he worked so hard to make and realizes he hasn't quite lived up to being the paragon of honesty and virtue he presents himself as.
And in the end, he confesses to his brother. Jimmy comes clean when he believes that the chain of events he set in motion caused Chuck to retire and dive even deeper into his psychosis. Jimmy may not believe he's really risking his career or his livelihood by doing so, but he is exposing himself, making a sacrifice by playing into Chuck's image of him. Jimmy absolutely loves his brother, and after all the effort he put into covering up his misdeeds, the lengths he went to in order to prevent Chuck from confirming his suspicions, the thought of his actions wounding his brother deeply motivates Jimmy to lay it all out there for him.
What's so tragic and deplorable is that Chuck is taking advantage of that. He's using his brother's love to hurt him. In a way, he's making the same choice Jimmy did when he obtained temporary guardianship over Chuck and forced him to take those tests at the hospital. He's taking the choice out of his brother's hands, because he doesn't trust him to make the right one. But it's also cravenly manipulative. Chuck is playing on Jimmy's own deep-seated concerns for him in order to undermine him. There's something especially cruel in the poetry of that, something that feels particularly wrong about turning someone's care for you against them in such a cold and calculated fashion.
It can be hard to explain what makes Better Call Saul great because so often it comes out in the little things. It may be the direction and editing, which convey Chuck's disorientation by flipping his perspective upside down beneath the hospital lights, or communicating Kim's pride in Jimmy by putting her beaming smile in the frame as his commercial plays. It may be the small but significant performance of the doctor who looks after Chuck, who manages to be a steady and caring voice of reason between each of the mercurial McGill brothers. It may be the little bits of dry comedy in an episode as significant as "Klick," from the "no offense," "none taken," exchange between Mike and the arms who wipes his prints off the rifle, to Ernesto's beleaguered wish that he was back in the mail room. Or it may be something like the quiet moment where Ernesto explains to Jimmy why he lied on his behalf -- for the simple reason that Chuck seemed out to get him, and Jimmy's his friend.
That, more than Chuck's fierce intelligence, more than Jimmy's golden tongue, more than one brother's pride and the other's lack of shame, is what truly distinguishes the McGill brothers from one another. When Jimmy plies his trade these days, when he employs a little subterfuge, he's usually trying to help people -- sometimes himself, but also the woman he loves and people like the seniors at Sandpiper. When things go awry, when it looks like people will really be hurt, he doesn't sit on the sidelines; he acts to rectify his mistakes, whether it's by talking Tuco into commuting the death sentences of his twin collaborators in the desert, or by admitting his actions to his brother to prevent Chuck from giving up his life and his sanity. Jimmy is far from pure, but he cares and he tries, and people like Ernesto see that.
But Chuck only uses those same skills to hurt people. Sure, he justifies it by seeing himself as an agent of morality, as it being part and parcel with his self-given duty to uphold what's right and just in this world. And yet even if he thinks what he does is for the greater good, when push comes to shove, Chuck uses that craftiness to deny his brother the seat at the table that he'd earned, to punish Kim for Jimmy's transgressions since she was the only one within reach, to wrest away a client when someone more deserving had done the legwork, and to incriminate a brother whose confession he was only able to wring out because of Jimmy's love and concern for him. Jimmy serves individuals; Chuck serves some greater sense of righteousness, and unlike Mike, he cares little for who's caught in the crossfire.
Chuck has a very personal, very exacting moral code, and it leads him to hurt the people who care about him the most. Jimmy's ethical mores are much more fluid, much more apt to let the ends justify the means, but he means to do good, more or less, and to help people, especially those close to him. And Mike is somewhere in the middle, intent on protecting the most important people in his life, trying to live up to the high moral standards he sets for himself even as he gets his hands dirty, and most of all trying not to hurt anyone in the process. "Klick" wraps its characters in these little moral conundrums, and teases out the connections and distinctions between its heroes and its villains as each tries to find their way out of them, and the lines they are and are not willing to cross to do it.
TNG starts climbing out of its rough first-season writing here. Character interactions are still pretty strained compared to the later years, but we get a good hint at the depth of storytelling to come. Picard has his first true "Star Trek dilemma" in this episode, the first of many.
The one element I must seriously question is why the Enterprise visited what appears to be a pre-warp civilization. Given that the Edo seem to have a complete apparent lack of awareness regarding space vessels or interstellar travel, it's unquestionable that the Prime Directive would have forbidden any contact with the planet at all. They somewhat regard the Starfleet team as gods after becoming aware of the ship's position in space near their own god, even.
Starfleet's general prohibition against interference or contact of any kind with civilizations that have yet to develop warp capability is long established at this point—at least as far back as "The Omega Glory" (TOS 2x25), which aired nearly 20 years before "Justice". Ironically, the Prime Directive should have prevented Picard's Prime Directive dilemma from ever cropping up in the first place. In a way, he ended up having to break the Prime Directive in the end because he broke the Prime Directive…
Ok lets break this down:
Major spoilers ahead.
Peele's new film is a clever, cerebral look at modern day US....A. I thought it was very good. It is such a layered film. I wasn't really a fan of Get Out, I thought that film was hugely overrated. But 'Us' is on another level.
There is alot going on in this movie in the background. So much foreshadowing and symbolism. So many nods to the socio-political landscape of America. The apocalyptic scenario we all face if we don't wake up. (11:11 is the rapture in the bible). Even the score in the baseball match is 11 - 11.
Right from the off we are given some easter eggs. There are are several characters wearing Black Flag t-shirts. Look up Black Flag records, what do you get:
https://i.imgur.com/8g518y3.jpg
With Scissors being the main motif for violence. As they're a symmetrical tool used to break things apart.
There is also a nod to 'The Lost Boys' in the opening scene as it's set in the mid 1980s on Santa Cruz boardwalk and we're told they're shooting another film there.
https://i.imgur.com/TDXxXQ1.png
Lupita Nyong'o's character wins a Thriller t-shirt early on. Then we see her doppleganger presented in this way, more than a passing resemblance:
https://i.imgur.com/yO6oleU.png
https://i.imgur.com/drHrXFs.jpg
The main theme is one of how society has been torn apart in recent times. This manifests itself in the way people that you think are normal, showing behavioural traits / opinion / beliefs you would never expect them to show / hold. Some people describe this as "the rise of the right" and "empowerment". They suddenly have a voice. This is shown in the movie by the tethered suddenly having a voice (literally as Red can now speak). They rise up and challenge.
It's no coincidence then, that the main moment of the movie happens when the central figure looks into a mirror. We need to take look at ourselves sooner rather than later.
The ending (humans linked in a barrier) also has large connotations with 'a wall', we all probably know what Peele was alluding to there.
https://i.imgur.com/mvkCyaV.jpg
There is also a very strong link to those tethered underground being the underclass. Eating raw meat. Underground. Peele may be alluding to the poverty gap widening.
There are also a load of nods to popular culture. I loved the beach scene reminiscing Jaws. I loved the car on the road reminiscing the Shining opening sequence, plus the twin girls paying homage to that movie.
https://i.imgur.com/vBN8bFG.png
The VHS tapes on the shelf at the beginning are a nod to popular culture (the Goonies etc) . And if you think about it - there is also a character in the Goonies that is tethered and can barely speak. I wouldn't be surprised if this is another of Peele's tenuous but clever links.
https://i.imgur.com/Tjy46bY.png
The music is also used brilliantly, especially towards the end with a stripped down version of 'I got 5 on it 'adding to the tension. A comedic NWA moment hints at Peele saying that popular culture and consumerism is for the privelaged and has effects on us a sit seeps into the public consciousness.
There's also a hint at Peel's Hitchcockian influence with the birds on the beach.
https://i.imgur.com/MdsmIWJ.jpg
I just enjoyed the intelligence of this film. The thought process gone into it. I wish all horror films were this cerebral.
Us tries to make us look at our shadows and reflect on who we are and whether we have best intentions or are complicit in something that will undo us. Whether we let the tethered prevail as they rise is the question left unanswered by Peele. Hopefully not.
Great film.
Best lines
I’m waiting for an old friend - Bran
You left me for dead - Hound
I also robbed you - Arya
I’ve always had blue eyes! - Tormund
Whatever they want - Dany
but
It had its moments - Sansa
They need wheelchair ramps in Winterfell. They left Bran in the courtyard overnight!
Parallelism between Season 1 Episode 1 and Season 8 Episode 1
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ S08E01 Jon: "Where's Arya?" Sansa: "Lurking somewhere."Foreshadowing (from different Seasons/Episodes.)
01. S03E05“ “Let’s not go back. Let’s stay here a while longer,” Ygritte tells Jon. “I don’t ever want to leave this cave, Jon Snow.” S08E01 “We could stay a thousand years. No one would find us,” Daenerys says to Jon.02. Sam is suggesting rebelling against the Targaryen because they burned his father and brother alive. Similar to when Robert's Rebellion, began when Rhaegar Targaryen, allegedly abducted Robert's betrothed, Lyanna Stark.
Instead of looking like a Batman prequel, Gotham now feels like a Mad Max prequel... Which is a lot of fun!
This season definitely started with a bang, all that chaos infecting Gotham will surely make this season one of the best!
I loved the little details like Jim not wasting a single bullet on Scarecrow and Harvey misses three or four shots while trying to get some lowlife henchmen. Priorities, man!
I noticed Jaime Murray's name during the opening credits, but I didn't see her in this episode... Hmmmm... Regardless, I'm glad she's joining the fun that's living in Gotham City these days, before the show ends. And I just remembered this will be the last season... And a shorter one, at that. Those crappy CW shows get renewed indefinitely, whereas the only actually good DC show (besides Titans, of course) won't be around next year. Sigh!
The one thing I didn't like in this episode was Tabitha's death. That scene was so moronic it almost ruined the episode for me. Jim had a gun pointed at Penguin, yet he still let him kill her in cold blood, just passively watching the whole thing. I'm sure that saving a life justifies wasting a bullet. Tabitha may not be relevant to the story, anymore, but they could at least give her a more meaningful death. Instead, she dies while Jim is busy thinking whether he left the oven on. Duh!
This season opener was quite a ride, so I can barely wait to see what this final season has in store for us!
I can't find my jaw. Oh, that's right. I DROPPED IT!
Okay, but for real; it was a decent start, started multiple plot lines, setting wheels in motion, like the Witch, Ecco with a tinkling sound in the background, nicely foreshadowing Harley, also Jeremiah's plan, the question about who shot the chopper, Ed, and poor Selina. Plus, it gave Tabitha a fitting end. I mean what I liked about Gotham throughout the years, is that it can cut things off surprisingly quickly. Once they feel they're on the top with something, and that thing won't be useful anymore, or they can simply make up a better story instead, they just end it, not really wait for season finales.
This has been going on for years: season 2 episode 3 - killing Jerome, episode 17 - Riddler vs. Jim, in season 3 the 3 part Jerome story, which was basically an event-like thing, but after that episode 19 beheading Kathryn out of nowhere, season 4 - Ra's' dagger, then Professor Pyg, or all of Ivy's stories thus far, etc. But you see my point? They didn't needed Tabitha anymore, so they had her killed. Unless she gets resurrected somehow, because, you know this show, right? She hasn't died before, so, who knows? But I think this was fitting, and Penguin said almost the same.
I think this start was good, and had everything there is to love about Gotham. But I think - or at least, I hope so - they're just getting started. Go out with a boom, guys. Make me proud again.
When you have a political system and society built on the absolute control of information, and the projection of being all powerful and always infallible, then, when something disastrous happens, the first inclination is denial, then a cover-up, and finally finger pointing, deflection and blame storming with the various people having any sort of authority or power trying to save their own asses. The fact that the party bosses and ministers were "Apparatchik's", the Soviet equivalent of bureaucratic hacks, who had been gifted their appointments with minimal or even no knowledge of the actual workings of the bureaucracies they oversaw, poured gasoline and threw a match on an already untenable situation. It's easy to strut around in a cheap suit and impress the peasantry, especially when you can have anyone who calls you out on your BS sent to the Gulag's or even worse. It gets a bit trickier when peoples hands and faces start melting off, and they're detecting abnormally high radiation 1000 miles away.
I feel worse for the civvies, whose naive faith and trust caused them to believe the lies and half truth's they were being fed, and kept them from not only questioning the official story, but, willingly living and working in such close proximity to a disaster waiting to happen, and, thinking it was a privilege to do so. They had no idea of the dangers lurking near them, and, like Lyudmilla, who even when warned not to get too close or stay too long, hugs, caresses, and even places her irradiated husbands hand on her growing womb, thinking he just has some severe burns, because no one has the courage to speak the truth, even at the cost of thousands of lives.
Granted, it really didn't matter after the fact, because the battle now was to keep from decimating the ENTIRE Soviet Union and most of eastern Europe, so, what's 10 or 20 thousand dead if it means saving the country? So, if the neighborhood cheap suit pulls your name from a hat at the point of an AK-47, you tend to cooperate and not ask too many questions. Unless you're a coal miner extra enough to work butt nekkid in a radioactive hole with no hope of survival, and no thanks or glory. I tip my hat to them. Hero's all, even if Moscow never acknowledged them.
A little more Black Mirror like than the first one, but come on.
The plot is a very basic hostage situation and they all look the same. The whole thing is totally predictable and hold little interest except for Andrew Scott performance. I didn't even recognize Topher Grace, so good on his part too. It's not bad, it has all what you would expect, but also yeah, you expect it all.
As for the theme, this show used to be about visionary stuff not dayly occurences. Social media is addictive and the company design it this way and it's bad. Really ? Now ? Also don't use your phone while driving, wow ! I mean, there's nothing special here, how many people died this way ? Thousands ? There are litteraly hundreds of people dying each year by taking selfies in stupid places, will they also make a whole episode about it ?
It's also showing that these companies can have everything on you, and spy on you, that's actually a bigger thing than the addiction issue, but it's just passed over when that should be a way better reason to go after them.
And where's the boldness in attacking Facebook now ? And not really attacking either, taking the choice of humanizing the ones that take these decisions like they just happened and were not conscious decisions to make money at the detriment of everything else, that's a poor direction for what this show used to be about.
A small point, that most people will probably not notice. The Persona company sends the mother her daughter's password. It kinda look like a nice thing, but it shows that they won't do it for legal reasons (wouldn't the heir of a deceased person would be lengally entitled to that ?), but they will share their customer data if another billionaire tech bro asks them too. It also means that they can access the clear text passwords of their users. Both things are very wrong. Both also happened to have been in the news about Facebook in the past months. Not sure if it's on purpose or a coincidence. It's pretty hidden for something that's on point on technology misuses, you know, the kind BM used to be about.
At least this one is entertaining. Despite the fact that it mainly warns us about the dangers of adolescent popstar live.
It's also very long to start. Its 1h10 could easily be packed into 45 minutes. The whole Rachel awkard teen's story and how she can so easily be influenced by a toy telling her to believe in herself is way too long. First as usual with this type of character, I have a very hard type believing that a girl that looks like her would be in this situation at school. And it's not like she's even useful in anything as a character. She's just a plot device. She wants the Ashley Too, and she wants to do what she says. That's it. She's such a huge fan and that's her whole character. OK, the fact that she says that when face to face with Ashley that is tied to her bed and just woke up from a coma a few seconds ago, that's funny. But she doesn't do a single thing. She's in a back fangirling while Jack drives. She does nothing while Ashley Too unplugs the real one and Jack is handling the bodyguard. She does nothing at the end while Jack is actually playing with her idol. Such a loooong exposition for a character that has nothing to do after. I mean it goes through all the cliches and then deliver nothing...
I'm not really in the Miley Cyrus demographic, never seen her, maybe heard one song, I mostly have seen her in tabloids stories. But wow, I found her very good. As the cheery popstar, as the depressed ex child star (but maybe they're not such composition roles) and very much as the robot voice. Through the whole beginning the only interesting parts were hers, and the real story starts at Ashley Too's awakening.
This second part was fun, though it looked more part of a teen show than a BM episode.
As for the tech part, it's a lot less dark than usual. There's basically no downside. Previous season had a way harsher treatment on the duplicating consciousness thing. That was a constant theme in last season, with very dramatic to horrific consequences, but here it's like they wanted to show, look, it can be fun too. Very not Black Mirrory.
However it's not like we're talking about every day technology as it is usually the case. Even in this world, the tech used seems to be revolutionary. And that makes no sense in the story. So the aunt, or her company, or people who work for her anyway, manages to map an entire mind, industrial scale, and they use it for... a pop star doll ? Also it was cheaper to have a miniature doll with the capacity of containing and running the whole thing and put a limiter on it, than to just map and put the tiny part you want to use ?
Then their holographic tech, that seems pretty good too. Though weird moment when Catherine is in front of the (probably mostly teenage fangirls) audience and does her Apple keynote, being happy to be back into the most lucrative part of the business. She actually says that. Not at a tech investor meeting, in front of the live audience. Also fully customizable (even her clothes!) and scalable, like that's not the easiest part of an hologram.
And then there's this machine that allows to decipher songs from the brain of a coma patient ! That's fucking amazing. The applications just for medecine, are unimaginable. And the other ways it could be exploited...
I can think of a thousand ways to make a shitload of money with that without needing to drug your niece into a coma ! They litterally invent technology worth hundreds of billions of dollars just to make a few millions out of a teenage pop star ! Pretty weird when the aunt's character is just presented as being driven by money.
And what's with the dad's machine ? It shows a brain, so I thought he was working on rat's brains, but he just has a small rat chasing robot ? And, without knowing anything (it's repeated enough), you can plug a toy, see it's brain and edit the limiter on it ? That was worse than any hacking scene in movie history, but maybe it was a joke on that ? Didn't feel like it.
Anyway, by far the best episode of the season, but that's not saying much. And still not a Black Mirror episode. I rate it 7 because it was entertaning, but if I was to rate it as if it was a BM episode, that would be lower.
A real BM episode would have gone over the spying part of the Ashley Too technology. A lot to do with that alone. And like I already said, all the brain mapping thing, there was a lot of ways to exploit that, though it was kinda alredy done in last season, there were still lots of possibilities.
Kinda liked the suggestion that if you're not kept under hallucinogenics drugs you would real music instead of pop :)
