[8.2/10] It’s easy to become desensitized to violence on the screen. Superheroes can pummel hordes of faceless bad guys, or each other. Jedi can leap into lightsaber fights from hear to the edge of the galaxy. And slapstick comedy can turn events that would cause untold pain in real life into cartoony hilarity.
But we don’t tend to think about when people become desensitized to violence not because of the images they’ve seen or the context in which they’re presented, but rather because it’s an everyday part of their lives, something they don’t enjoy or relish, but no more question or find out of the ordinary than they would bad weather.
I, Tonya, then, is a film about what it is to expect abuse in your life, both physical and emotional, to the point that you no longer question it, or even fully recognize it. It depicts Tonya Harding as someone who has heard so many times that she doesn’t measure up, that she isn’t good enough, that she’ll never amount to anything (often with physical reminders to accentuate these put downs) that she accepts any abuse in exchange for even the prospect that someone will appreciate her, will respect her, will love her.
The most devastating line in film comes in one of the montages about the early tumult in the marriage between Tonya and her husband Jeff, where she rationalizes his domestic violence away by reasoning, “My mom loves me, and she hits me.” It’s a sad, but understandable equivalence from someone who’s known nothing else, going from one abusive family relationship to another.
The grand achievement of the film is the way that it manages to approach these dark events in a manner that’s both incisive and funny. It doesn’t skimp on the ridiculousness of the world of professional figure skating, or on the shaggier side of this collection of nudniks each trying to conquer the world in their own way, but it doesn’t shy away from or compartmentalize the darker underbelly of all that lunacy either.
Part of what makes it stomachable is that we get most of the film in the form of cobbled-together recollections from Tonya and the other players, with plenty of fourth wall-breaking commentary and voice over to add a layer of cutting or knowing commentary onto these events. That device allows the film to be at a remove when it needs to, giving the audience a chance to reflect on what’s happening rather than forced to be a part of it.
But when we do feel it, it’s through Tonya’s eyes, and for Tonya, violence, disappointment, and shaming are a matter of fact thing. That’s the soft tragedy that winds its way through the film. Horrid incident after horrid incident befalls Tonya, but she seems to take it in stride, because it’s all she’s ever known, until those moments accumulate and accumulate until they’ve taken away the thing she cares most about, the thing that gave her a chance to escape that life.
That shame is personified by Tonya’s mother, LaVona, a profane battleaxe who browbeats her preternaturally talented daughter deeper and deeper into the sport. It’s a powerhouse performance from the inimitable Allison Janney, and character aided both by Janney’s stellar acting and some choice moments in the script.
It would be easy to make LaVona a pure monster, with how she degrades her daughter at every turn and resorts to physical violence and cruel stunts when she doesn’t get her way. But in scenes where she tells Tonya that she sacrificed their relationship to make Tonya great, she becomes comprehensible, though not laudable, as all great villains should be. And there’s that twinkle in Janney’s eye, that sincerity she can muster, that gives the audience just enough to wonder if LaVona means it when she tells her daughter that she’s on her side, even when she’s surreptitiously recording her in search of a scoop.
That moment is a the whole film in microcosm, a story of people seeming to welcome Tonya, to give her the attention and affection she hopes for, only to tear it away from her. The film’s nod to this is a tad overwritten, but those are also the terms in which it interrogates celebrity. Beyond LaVona, beyond Jeff, Tonya wants to be embraced by the world, and for one shining moment, her talent makes her the darling she always wanted to be.
But then, the scandal hits. An incident she may or may not have been involved with comes to consume her career and reputation, and after coming so close, after having her all-too-brief moment in the sun, she becomes a laughing stock and a punching bag, in a country of late night comedians and tabloid headline writers who help set the stage for people to either groan or titter when hearing her name. The world acts as her mother and husband did, however unwittingly, with her desperate for approval and appreciation, and chasing it until she’s smacked down into her place once more.
That sense of Tonya having overstepped her bounds is also a palpable theme in the film. There’s a steady sense of how a combination of classism and sexism hindered her at every turn. Skating is (or at least was) a sport where women were expected to act a certain way, where competitors were expected to uphold a certain spirit of grace and genteelity. Tonya met none of those criteria. She was more athletic than graceful, a woman of poverty rather than refinement, and the way the staid gatekeepers refused to let her in for this is one more misfortune visited upon her.
This all makes I, Tonya sound far more grim that it is. There is a Coen Bros. quality to the film, where a bunch of small time, bumbling crooks try to pull off a caper and fall on their faces, while laughing at the absurdity and darkness bundled up with that. The script is smart and funny, with plenty of razor sharp lines and wry observations that work on multiple levels. And the shots and sequences of Tonya’s performances on the ice capture the sense of power and achievement, using the camera as her dance partner and greatest champion, showing a talent that cannot be denied to witness, even if it can be denied on score cards.
And after all of that denial, all of that rejection, all of those painful stumbles, the final scene highlights her brief but headline-grabbing boxing career. After all, that sort of physical violence is all she knows, the irony being that she doesn’t even understand the outpouring of support when Nancy Kerrigan is “hit once.” After her lifetime of violence, Tonya is too desensitized to it to comprehend what the big deal is, or where the similar sympathy is for her when all manner of authority: from her mother, to the powers that be of the skating establishment, to the police, don’t seem to care.
There’s a recurring leitmotif in I, Tonya where Tonya constantly denies that anything is her fault. There’s the implication that she’ll devolve into self-sabotage or give less-than-her-best effort and yet pass the buck for any misstep onto a conspiracy or a bias or something else that she’s not responsible for.
And yet, the only thing she publicly accepts guilt for is the one thing for which she’s truly blameless -- the people in her life. When Tonya makes her public apology, she says she had no prior knowledge of the attack, but apologize for surrounding herself with people who did and would. It’s those people -- her mother who derided her and primed her for another abuser like her husband -- who helped shape Tonya into the person so susceptible to pursuing any manner of affection and attention, while not fully comprehending the gravity of the risk and pain to be inflicted on her in the process of seeking it out.
I, Tonya is not your standard biopic. It is dark but funny, sympathetic but not hagiographic, and narrow but fulsome. It presents the story of a young woman so inured to abuse, so used to its awful presence, that she hardly recognizes it anymore, until it keeps from the things she wants most.
I really enjoyed this.
Lyn-Manuel Miranda is widely and deservedly regarded as a genius and this musical/film adds more evidence to support that.
Clever, funny, rapid-fire lyrics blend with an (until this musical was created) under regarded figure of US history. But his genius is even more evident in his decision to pitch a musical where most of the white historical cast are portrayed by Black American performers... with hip hop music at its spine. Originality is king if you want to make memorable art.
The cast in this production are luminescent. They may not all be names theatre goers will readily recognise but you've seen many of them on TV and film. There's even a key figure played by a semi-regular from Glee (singing a song that sounded very Tim Minchin to me).
As a huge fan of musicals I was always going to like this. The flip-side of this is that I judged it against the others I've seen and loved.
So yes, its hands don at least 8 stars (and most people say more than that, and that's fine) but some of the things I regarded as flaws held me back.
Relationships - no real kick-arse relationships of emotional depth except for the one who dies midway through the second act. And while it was portrayed and told well, I felt it failed to resonate as much as it could have by the lack of foreshadowing the bond. The relationship with his wife seemed tacked on and the hinted relationship with another woman (won't add a spoiler here) never delivered. The fact it was never established as fact in the real life story of Hamilton was no doubt part of the reason, but including the hint that goes nowhere served little purpose.
The story - Some stories are light by nature (Grease, Little Shop of Horrors) but they at least have a powerful relationship at their base. Some are significant because of the story they cover (Les Mis, Rent)... and they also mostly have a powerful relationship or two in the midst. I know the purpose of telling Hamilton's story was to share details of an almost forgotten figure, but I kinda feel like he deserved to be forgotten. Definitely an intellect, but his role in the War of Independence was bureaucratic, his additions to legislature were significant, but again bureaucratic. If they had hung some of the story on a significant moment rather than to provide a greatest hits package of his life, maybe there was more power to be had? Having seen it and enjoyed it, I still wonder "why Hamilton?"
Anyway, those are just some of my personal misgivings and I DID love the film/musical. Miranda is the genius in this case and while it's very easy for people on the sideline, like me, to critique or fiddle with the idea, there's no idea at all without his amazing mind.
You really should see this.
[4.4/10] Like some other episodes penned by Daniel Palladino, this one is a bit all over the place. It doesn’t so much have storylines as it has little snippets that coalesce into some strange hodge-podge. So many things here violate the continuity of the show in non-nitpicky ways, and there’s a number of outright weird narrative choices as well.
Let’s start with the weird telegraphing, once again, of an inevitable conflict between Luke and Lorelai. So Lorelai has a pregnancy scare, the basis of which is her having a hankering for an apple, and the settling of which is her having a later craving for junk food. That alone is silly to begin with. But the whole thing feels, once again, like a very obvious means for the show to deposit in a declaration from Lorelai that she likes being a single adult woman for the first time in her life and doesn’t want to be tied down.
Again, the only purpose for any of this, very glancing, underfed storyline is to telegraph some issue between Luke and Lorelai down the line, which is compounded by a similarly blunt scene where Luke declares his disdain for New York City and big cities generally, just cementing the fact that he wouldn’t want to travel with Lorelai when she’s inevitably offered this quickly-appearing globe-trotting job.
The other half of that is Luke jostling with Kirk, of all people, for the right to buy the Twickam house. I’ll admit, I kind of like the idea of this one, despite the fact that it’s more setup for a contrived “Luke wants to settle down/Lorelai wants to uproot” storyline that feels really forced. The idea that Kirk has been living at home, working “15,000 jobs” and saving every penny with his idiot savant investing skills is an amusing side bit. But Daniel Palladino tends to have such a goofy, broad sense of humor that it turns into a bunch of town elders taking a shvitz and making weird declarations about Luke pining for Lorelai and “wanting it more.” This show can get cartoony at times, and I don’t necessarily mind it, but it’s too much and again, too heavy-handed with the Luke/Lorelai material.
The other major storyline, which is too abbreviated, is Rory getting a setback in her newspaper aspirations. I like the contrast this one delivers, where when the episode starts, Rory seems perfectly in sync and integrated at the Stamford paper, and then toward the end, she’s told by Mitchum Huntzberger that she just doesn’t have what it takes because she plays it too safe. Like I said with the last episode, I like Rory having to struggle for the things that she wants, and not just being delivered her dreams on a platter a la getting into every college of her choice. It’s an interesting idea from a Gordon Gecko-looking dude that however scrupulous and bright Rory may be, she doesn’t have a killer instinct or the urge to push and that may keep her from making it in her chosen field. It’s a tough dose of reality, and hopefully it eventually gives Rory the resolve to fight for what she wants rather than just give in, but I like it as an obstacle for her.
I’m less on board with her reaction to it. It is, perhaps, human nature that she’s in a bad mood and so projects her frustrations out on Logan. And it’s not crazy that she has a bit of anomie after working so hard and being told it won’t get her the career she wants for reasons beyond her control. But however literary the impulse, there’s something odd about her nabbing Logan and wanting to hijack a yacht, though I’m willing to wait and see where it goes.
What I’m not willing to wait and see on is the Lorelai/Emily storyline here, which I have real problems with. I have fewer issues with the plot thread itself, which sees Emily “sponsoring” a local ballerina or ballerino and Lorelai getting involved in evaluating them. My bigger problem is that it violates some significant continuity and elides serious character concerns.
For one thing, just a few episodes ago we had a big thing where Lorelai sacrificed her big story in a magazine to spare her mom’s feelings. Now, all of a sudden, the story is in the magazine anyway, and Lorelai doesn’t seem to care or doesn’t ask the editor what happened and why the change of plans and we’re just supposed to forget the small but significant gesture from not very long ago.
Worse yet, despite the ugliness that led to “You and me are done,” and the clash at the Logan dinner that ended on bad terms, Lorelai is apparently not only back and attending Friday night dinners, but is playfully jousting with Emily again. Don’t get me wrong, I love their dynamic together, but that is really disappointing. The show spent a great deal of time driving a meaningful wedge between Lorelai and Emily, reinforcing it along the way, and now they’re just fine again, while not even addressing the unpleasantness that happened in the prior episode and never really pointing them back toward being okay again prior to that either.
The plot thread itself is fine I suppose. It’s a good laugh that Emily’s Russian ballerino takes offense to Lorelai comparing Emily to Stalin. But the way it takes something that seems like it would add fuel to the fire of the Lorelai-Emily feud and instead throws water on it is a severe missed opportunity.
Then there’s all the nonsense with Sookie’s delivery. For one thing, it makes no sense that Rory is so grossed out by Sookie going into labor, considering (a.) she was presumably around for Davie’s birth and (b.) she was definitely around for Sherry going into labor. So what we get is a hackneyed joke that violates what we’ve already seen from the character.
At the same time, I hate to admit it but I was a little mortified by Sookie effectively ordering Jackson to get a vasectomy. I don’t mind the show taking something reasonably serious and playing it in a light way. That’s often Gilmore Girls’s M.O. when it comes to comedy. But the other side of the coin is that it’s pretty offensive for Sookie to not only unilaterally declare that they’re not having anymore kids without any debate or discussion between two equal partners in a marriage, but to also then immediately direct her husband to have a medical procedure without consulting him or even giving him a say. For an episode that carefully skirts its way around any mention of abortion, the way it glosses over the notion of Jackson having any bodily autonomy feels particularly offensive.
Overall, this episode is perfectly watchable, so I feel a bit bad rating it this low. But the other side of the coin is that basically only one of its storylines works, and even that promises to go off the rails a bit going into the next episode. Everything else is either broad and/or offensive comedy, something that violates the continuity of the show or elides major character issues that were previously established, or is setting up for a forced future clash that nobody wants.
A true horror movie, the most disturbing slasher film for sure. Leatherface is scary as hell, the sounds he makes and the way he behaves is horrifying. The same goes to that psychopath family of his, goddamn, what a bunch of crazy people.
The low-budget helped the film in my opinion. The atmosphere created is amazing, everything looks dirty, stinky and rotten. Also, the feeling of some super hot and unpleasant weather is present. Well, it's Texas so that's expected I guess, nice job. The movie has kind of a documentary tone, grainy and yellowish cinematography that raises every aspect of what the filmmakers were trying to achieve. The violence is not that graphical as you could expected, but is so brutal and raw that makes it more realistic. Not every kill scene has blood flying to your face or a limb being ripped off but your brain is there to work for you and fill the gap of what the damage has caused (meat hook, that's right, uh, chills). Simple, but so effective.
The last 30 minutes of this movie are pure insanity (that dinner scene). Almost non stoppable screams, insane laughter and chainsaw sounds that will haunt you (or at least leave you with your ear buzzing).
[7.6/10] You could rename this episode “The one where people have mature, adult conversations for once.” That’s probably overstating things, but for a show that likes to up the drama factor when it can, it’s nice to have an episode about characters being introspective and honest with one another about their feelings and the problems they’re facing.
But before we can really do that in earnest, we have to have a dog funeral. Ah the eternal dilemma. Michel is one of the show’s most enjoyable and underused characters, but when Gilmore Girls does use him, it sticks him into underwhelming, broad storylines that tend to go nowhere. I suppose Michel mourning his dog is meant to be the comic relief in an otherwise heavier episode, but his devotion to this memorial service, and disgust for how less-than-seriously Lorelai and Sookie are taking it, pays next to comic dividends.
Still, it turns out alright at the end. It’s not much, but Michel’s little bit about eating a hamburger at Luke’s (thereby violating his strict diet) in honor of his deceased bet who loved the grilled-up treats, is a sweet note to end a pretty ridiculous story on. And hell, Zach again seems to be on his best behavior in offering his condolences to Michel, and even does a pretty damn melodic cover of “My Heart Will Go On” (thereby continuing the gag about Michel’s love of Celine Dion) on acoustic guitar. It’s not much, but it sends an empty plot out on a nice note, which is enough.
Then you have Rory getting all twitterpated by her dreamy new Econ T.A. who’s filling in while Richard recovers. Full disclosure -- I was cringing like mad through all of this, as it felt like Gilmore Girls was sending us through yet another tedious love triangle. But I was pleasantly surprised at the results instead.
There’s a realness to Rory sitting down with Logan and admitted her flushed feelings at the sight of this T.A. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and, after the deal with Marty that spurred the confession in the first place, possibly damaging. But rather than being fodder for a contrived break-up, Logan says it’s no big deal, apologizes for overreacting to the Marty situations, and affirms that minor crushes are not something that matter -- how you feel deep down and what you choose to do are. It represents the show veering away from melodrama and into a mature, healthy relationship for one of its leads, which is a breath of fresh air.
So is “Farewell My Pet”’s approach to the Lorelai Chris situation. I’ll admit that here too, I feared the worst, when arguments at the inn between then went badly and it felt like the same tired back and forth we’ve heard a thousand times.
But then Lorelai has a conversation with her best friend, one of those revealing and frank conversations that you need to have with the important people in your life in order to figure things out, and she has an epiphany. Lorelai realizes she’s fighting the wrong battle. Chris is fixated on Luke and any unresolved feelings Lorelai might have for him, and Lorelai admits that to some extent he’s right. It was less than a year ago that she and Luke were engaged, ahd that it’s not like her warm feelings for Luke have disappeared. But she also states (correctly, in my estimation) that Chris is wrong. Luke is not a problem because while she’s still coming to terms with the leftover of her relationship with him, she chose Chris, and she has been 100% committed to Chris.
Sookie, however, is the voice of reason, and asks the question that many viewers had to be asking at this point as well. Even if Luke was not a part of the equation, would Lorelai and Chris make sense together? And when she stops and thinks about it, Lorelai has to admit that the answer is no.
I think that’s all I wanted from this arc. This season has spent so much time trying to sell us on Chris and Lorelai working, presumably to make this fall more tragic, and not nearly enough time hinting at the ways they just don’t work. It wants you to buy into them as a pairing, so that you’re not just yelling “why?” at the screen for forty minutes at a time. And it never really worked.
But this does. It works when Chris admits that he always thought their problem was timing, and so when an opportunity presented itself, he seized it, arguably much too soon. It works when Lorelai admits that, even apart from Luke, she and Chris just aren’t right, and her weeping confession that Chris is the man she “wants to want” even when she doesn’t hits that believable note of beautiful tragedy this season has had trouble with elsewhere.
In the end, I appreciate what Gilmore Girls has been trying to do with Lorelai and Chris this season, even if the execution left plenty to be desired. It comes into focus in this episode. Lorelai was presented with someone who was nigh-perfect for her, but whom she perceived to not want to marry her, and was wounded by that. So she turned to someone who was always wrong for her, but who wanted her, who had always wanted her, who had proposed to her multiple times in the past and, in that, gave her the one thing Luke couldn’t seem to by the time they ended -- the sense that your partner really wants to spend the rest of his life with you.
Lorelai hoped that feeling of being wanted, that her shared history with Christopher, would be enough, or maybe she didn’t even realize until now that it’s what was motivating her. But either way, she figures it out, and for once, she and Chris have an open and honest conversation that lays it all out on the table, and sends them to their separate corners once more.
I haven’t loved this romance arc. It’s full of too much build and not of enough signs of cracks in the foundation as the show brings Christopher and Lorelai together. But for once, the show seizes on a genuine reason for two people to break apart and discards the red herring beef between Lorelai and Chris. Rather than breaking them up with another overblown fight, or some dramatic gesture, “Farewell My Pet” just has two adults, speaking honestly with one another, recognizing what’s there and what isn’t.
In its last year as a regular series, it’s hard to know whether to call Gilmore Girls a mature show, but its two title characters have finally figured out how to approach their romantic lives with a level of maturity the audience has rarely, if ever, seen before.
[7.1/10] This is basically a Lorelai/Logan episode, which we’ve never really gotten before. I appreciate the show finding pairings and character clashes that, five episodes from the series, are still fairly new. The confab between the two of them is, in some ways, the last hurdle to overcome before Logan can be in this thing for the long haul.
And credit the show here. It manages to have Lorelai be fairly negative on Logan while granting her daughter her agency, to having lukewarm but still present approval of him, and all it takes is one late night quest for pie and/or water.
Lorelai admits her concerns -- that Logan seems unconcerned with his mistakes, that he’s not used to having normal people concerns, and that he’s too sheltered and privileged to be good for her daughter. And Logan comes up with good response to each worry: that he’s very aware of his mistakes but wanted to downplay them in front of his girlfriend’s mom in the hopes of impressing her, he’s ready to work and wants to work hard, and that he thought Lorelai of all people would understand giving up the life of luxury to pursue your own goals and your own values your way since she did it herself.
Lorelai seems taken aback and unexpectedly satisfied with these answers (the last one being particularly flattering and satisfying) and goes from basically trying to avoid Logan to wanting to share some pie with him, the ultimate sign of Gilmore affection.
The other storyline in the episode is Rory turning over whether to take a job at a newspaper in Rhode Island or hold out for a prestigious-sounding fellowship. It’s a kind of confusing decision for a layman like me. Rory says that it’s only a six-week (paid) internship, so presumably she’ll still need a job after those six weeks are finished? And presumably if it’s that prestigious, the newspaper that offered her a job would still take her after those six weeks are up?
Who knows. What’s clear is that the show has established this as a “take the safe route and take the job or be adventurous and go for the internship” choice. And while I’d love to see Rory try for something big and fail for once, I imagine when she takes Logan’s advice and follows her dreams here, she’ll end up being one of those four. I don’t want to prematurely criticize the show for leaning into wish-fulfillment, but that does seem where we’re headed.
Still, there’s some good to come out of this, as Logan tells Rory to make the decision without him, which Rory initially interprets as lack of commitment, but then quickly realizes is Logan saying he’ll follow her wherever she goes (where she leads, if you will). It’s another sweet note for Logan, whom the show has turned into a nigh-perfect boyfriend. (And at a juncture in the maze, they look like they’re about to walk down different paths but end up walking down the same path together. Hooray for metaphors!)
I like Logan, mostly because he seems ultimately good for Rory, but we’ve got a formula now. Logan screws up, Logan apologizes and realizes the error of his ways, and then Logan is redeemed. At some point, he becomes too good, or at least too good at wiping away those mistakes, to be believed.
Speaking of fixing things too perfectly to be believed, we get a scene between Lorelai and Luke here that’s basically meant to patch up the lingering bad feelings from their relationship. Lorelai apologizes for sleeping with Christopher, and it’s a good look for her, and if the show had left it at that with some slight warming between the two of them, it’d be fine. It needed to be said, and it has the appropriate amount of awkwardness as Lorelai and Luke run into one another in the ridiculous, eponymous hay bale maze.
But then Luke starts apologizing for his behavior too which, look, he needs to do. But (a.) it’s all very quick and (b.) it feels like the show has now invented reasons to justify his prior behavior that conflict with what the character said and the show said at the time. Now look, I can totally sympathize with Season 7 doing its best to wipe away the stink of that storyline from Season 6. And recontextualizing Luke as thinking he needed to fix his life as a father before he could embark on his life as a husband makes a lot more sense than the weird, frankly nonsensical “You can’t meet April because she’d like you more than she likes me” reason he gave.
It’s just not what the show was positing before. And hey, maybe a retcon is in order, but the show needed to explore that more if that were the case, rather than just giving the pair a quick conversation to tidily dispel everything that happened in the prior season, give Luke another on-the-nose statement about the way that April is growing up so quickly leading him to realize how much things are constantly in flux and not able to be “settled” like he might have hoped before, and transparently laying the groundwork for Luke and Lorelai to reunite.
Maybe I’m more negative on this episode than I thought. It’s perfectly pleasant for most of the way, but when you stop and think about it, outside of the stellar Lorelai/Logan scene, it’s mostly founded on T.V. nonsense to get you to the desired destination. A little nonsense isn’t the worst thing though, especially if you’re trying to undo the damage done from a storyline everyone would like to forget anyway.
[6.0/10] Ohh this episode has problems.
Let’s start with the most obvious one. Zach continues to just be the fucking worst. He is a whiny, idiotic, petulant child, and for all the missteps big and small that this nevertheless great show has made along the way, pairing up him and Lane may be the biggest one. He writes off Lane’s concern when she expresses some minor frustration with him writing countless songs using other girls’ names, he throws a temper tantrum and ruins Hep Alien’s big shot when Brian starts writing a song with Lane’s name, and he’s all around a big baby about this. Why Lane doesn’t just break up with him and move on, I don’t know.
Speaking of break-ups, there’s the interesting tidbit that Logan considers him and Rory to be broken up, and Rory seems hurt by this when she just thinks they were “on hiatus.” That said, I imagine this whole thing will be a big misunderstanding, and he thought she broke up with him, and they’ll reconcile nicely.
On the subject of reconciling, the episode does well to make up for lost time with lots of great Rory/Lorelai banter in this one, as the two Gilmore Girls have saved up months worth of repartee to get out of their system. It’s the best thing in this one, and a treat to have back after 9 episodes with the two of them on the outs.
And hey, I was even okay with the Christopher stuff in this one. I like the idea of history repeating itself where now Rory wants to get out from under Richard and Emily’s thumb. And Luke’s right, it is good of Christopher to finally start contributing something to Rory’s life after years and years of Lorelai effectively doing it on her own. It’s the most I’ve liked Chris actually. Sure, he’s now just wealthy and unrealistic, but he seems genuinely happy to be able to help Rory in some way, and it’s a good look.
But in an episode featuring one absentee dad making a very good decision, “He’s Slippin’” also features another absentee dad making bad decision after bad decision. Oh Luke. It feels really out of character for Luke not to tell Lorelai about this. I could totally understand him wanting to let Lorelai revel in the fact that she and Rory are back together, but the clock is ticking, and him just pretending that it didn’t happen and they didn’t have their whole big “no secrets” conversation (which Lorelai held up her end of the bargain on in this episode) is stupid and dishonest as hell.
I don’t necessarily mind characters acting stupid or dishonest, but it feels out of character for Luke, who’s always been an honorable guy, almost to a fault. You can squint and kind of see the show trying to suggest that he’s got this thing he’s always wanted and so is loathe to do anything, even in these extraordinary circumstances, to upset that, but it just doesn’t feel like him, which hurts this already headache-inducing storyline.
The fact that he tells Liz (who you just know is going to spill the beans in some unsuspecting moment) is even dumber. And again, I totally understand him not wanting to disrupt the lives of Anna and April when they’ve apparently gotten along fine for twelve years without him, but it again seems out of character for him not to write a letter or something to let them know that while he doesn’t want to invade what they have going, he’s there if they need anything.
You can throw your characters in a lot of wild or wacky situations, and not all of them will work perfectly, but all will be at least passable if you can just make the characters’ reactions to those crazy circumstances feel genuine and true to who they’ve been. For all my grief for Zach, his childish fit on stage is entirely in keeping with who is and who he’s always been on this show. (The real mystery is why Lane sticks with him.) But the Luke who is keeping things from Lorelai and not trying to be a part of his (granted, very new-to-him) daughter’s life does not feel like the man we’ve gotten to know over the last 5 1/2 seasons, and that hurts this episode and this arc considerably.
[8.3/10] A lot to unpack here. This is a pretty big deal episode given what’s happened so far, with a lot of facets, so let’s take it a bit at a time.
For starters, I love that Rory stands up to Emily. There’s something passive aggressive about the way that Rory dutifully shows up for Friday night dinners, but is utterly cold to her grandmother, while being warm and friendly with her grandfather. As Mrs. Bloom pointed out, there’s something very much descended from Emily in that sort of tack. And to top it off, I love Richard and Emily mouthing encouragements to one another, and Rory being fed up at Emily playing dumb, telling her grandma that she’ll follow the letter of their agreement but not the spirit, and then bolting. Rory is generally so accommodating and forgiving of her grandparents that it really signifies the way Emily has crossed a line and done something beyond the pale.
I also love the before and after of it, which gets played more for comedy than drama. Lorelai instantly hanging up on her mother (with a nice use of the rule of three), or referring to her as “Adolf” gets some good comic mileage. And it’s a nice touch that Lorelai and Richard find themselves unexpectedly closer through this. Just as Lorelai lit up when Emily complimented her inn to the Alex Borstein character, you can tell how much Richard’s honest praise of the Dragonfly means to her. And his willingness to help her out with an insurance policy (which is adorable in how he lights up at insurance-related matter) and belief that she could make a lot of money selling but still running the place provide the nicest interactions between the two we’ve gotten in a while.
They also make for an interesting conclusion on the Lorelai/Emily feud front. I love how miffed Emily is that Richard is the favorite. She’s perfectly petulant about it. She’s not wrong to say that Richard’s enjoying getting to be the favored grandparent, and RIchard’s not wrong to say that it helps maintain a connection between the elder Gilmores and their daughter that might let them ease her back into the fold someday. But you can tell that Emily is frustrated to have been effectively excommunicated by the two most important women in her life, and impacted enough that she’s willing to debase herself, to do something she disagrees with, in the same of restoring order.
I’ll admit, I let out an audible “Oh snap” when she walked into Luke’s diner. She’s been there before, but there’s just something about upper crust Emily waltzing into Luke’s greasy spoon that tells you as a viewer that things must be serious for her to set foot in there. The way Luke too gives her the cold shoulder creates interesting parallels with Rory. But I love Emily’s final monologue, the one where Emily admits defeat, however pointedly, however much she may think this is the wrong choices, and effectively gives into Luke-Lorelai in the hopes of getting her daughter back. It’s the closest thing to humility we’ve ever seen from Emily, encouraging Luke to go to Lorelai, and it’s a testament to how important preserving and restoring her relationship with Lorelai is.
That walk-in from Luke, there to contrast Judy Garland singing about growing old and life passing you by and all the spinster references in the episode, is a pretty magical moment. It’s hard not to have your heart warmed by their reunion kiss, or to not be glad that the uber-couple of this show is back together.
And yet, I have my issues with it. Despite the momentary glory of that reunion, Emily’s promise to butt out doesn’t really solve the underlying problem. Yes, the concern about the elder GIlmores meddling was part of what drove Luke away, but just as problematic was the fact that Lorelai not only didn’t warn Luke beforehand that she was going to be up all night drinking tequila with her ex, but that she lied to him about it afterward. Emily had nothing to do with that, and while perhaps that’s an issue that will be worked out in the episodes to come, it feels a bit unsatisfying, upon reflection, that the show glosses over that in slapping the two of them back together.
Then again, maybe it’s just a reflection of real life, where sometimes people miss each other, feel their lives unwhole without that special someone, and ignore the things that bothered them before in the name of getting that feeling back. I still find Luke and Lorelai’s end-of-episode reconciliation a little too incomplete upon consideration, though nothing less than heartwarming in the moment, but maybe that’s just how people come back together.
The episode certainly posits that they’re feeling one another’s absence. There’s some pretty broad comedy on that front, which might otherwise undercut the power of that closing scene. Luke is in a grim mood, burning food, tossing dishrags, and throwing customers out of his restaurant, but it’s too cartoony to feel like a meaningful reflection of him being upset at the situation with Lorelai. (Though I’ll admit to getting a big kick out of Kirk’s love for the messed up food.) By the same token, the bit with Sookie trying to give Lorelai a night out, but being incapable of doing anything because of the fact that she’s late in her pregnancy, doesn’t accomplish much comically or character-wise either.
Still, there’s good stuff on the margins even apart from the major fireworks of the episode. As inconsequential as the Rory-Logan stuff seems, it’s noteworthy (a.) how cute Rory and Logan are in this one...I might be fully coming around on them, and (b.) the fact that Rory is now having the talk with her mother after sleeping with Logan. It’s a nicely complex emotional scene, where Rory is enthused at her new relationship and trying to have another chance at continuing their openness about this sort of thing after the unpleasantness with Dean, and Lorelai is unhappy with the fact that Rory is dating Logan and even less happy with the fact that she’s sleeping with him, but trying to be supportive and noncombative for fear of driving her daughter way. It’s a short, but really well-done scene.
And little as I care for Zach, and as much as it seems odd for rock and roll Lane to have a “chastity until marriage principle,” I actually really enjoyed how Gilmore Girls played that storyline. The notion that this isn’t necessarily something Lane wants, but that is instead just something that’s been instilled in her whether she likes it or not, and her frustrations and insecurity about that, is a really interesting angle. Sometimes we take things from our parents regardless of whether we intend it, and Lane having to contend with that, to the point of yelling “you’re in my head!” to Mrs. Kim is a really promising storyline to explore.
Overall, I have my issues with some of the comedy in this one, and with what the episode elides when reconnecting its major couple, but there’s too much good here: in Rory’s stand, in Lane’s predicament, in Richard’s delight, in Emily’s Waterloo, and in that kiss, to be too bothered by anything else..
From the opening number, that nearly stops the show before it starts, Cabaret lets you know what it's all about. The devilish Master of Ceremonies prances and preens and welcomes the audience to the performance with a sinister, almost knowing grin among the ribald revelry over which he provides. Here is your escape; here is your distraction, but what you are running from is never truly gone. The show, literally and figuratively, features a reflection of its audience, and as broad and exaggerated and whimsical as that reflection grows, there's still a palpable strain of darkness running through, that may be pushed off to the side, but never truly avoided.
Such is the journey of Sally and Brian, who stumble into each other's life, each escaping into the joys of hedonism, of la vie boheme, to escape a certain brokenness at their core, an attempt to outrun the little thoughts gnawing away at them, to fill the holes in their lives with liquor and sex, or invented fathers and dreams of stardom. There's a sadness at the heart of Sally Bowles, belied by her free-spirited whimsy and the breezy air with which she carries herself. And Brian too, though more of a Cipher, finds himself wrestling with his own feelings about his sexuality, with a guilt at what he deems to be deviance in a culture where a group utterly intolerant of his lifestyle, and his friends, are growing in power and influence. Each can only run for so long, can take refuge in one another for so long, before realizing that as wonderful as it can be, it's a temporary escape, a fantasy, that they would not be able to sustain in the long run, and losing that dream is as sad and sweet as it is necessary.
It's easy to see the influence Cabaret has had in the nearly fifty years after the film version's release. Rent invokes its intoxicating and yet very fraught depiction of the bohemian life, of individuals on the outskirts of society finding each other, finding patrons who wish to dabble in that life without plunging too deep, and the dizzying highs and crestfallen lows that come with it. Chicago borrows its brilliantly deployed conceit of contrasting the personal dramas between Sally, Brian, and their cohort, with cuts to numbers and routines on the cabaret stage that give shading to these events.
That stage, and the way the film preserves the theatrical nature of its source material, is a key to what makes Cabaret so enthralling. Director Bob Fosse's camera is intimate in Brian and Sally's scene, where it lingers with the pair or sits still and watches the two of them just breathe and be together. But there's an amazing energy in the cinematography during those stage performances, with swift cuts and zooming shots that dart around the stage to give the viewer multiple vantage points of the amazing phantasmagoria the Master of Ceremonies has constructed.
And that Emcee, who guides the audience on screen and on the other side of it through this gaping glimpse at Berlin in the 1930s, ties the film together. Joel Grey oozes an almost sinister charm, and shines in every moment he's on the stage. In particular, his rendition of "If You Could See Her Through My Eyes" achieves so much, and conveys so many layers in a production that could easily have come off as farce. There's a ridiculousness to a man singing a love song to an erstwhile ape, but the subtext of it, made text in Grey's last whispered line communicates both the genuine melancholy that underlies the phenomenon he's signing about it, a sense that he's playing the audience, stoking their expectations and feeding them the chops their licking their lips for, but doing so purposefully, in a manner so playful and subversive that the meaning goes over their heads. It's a captivating, devastating number.
And those two adjectives capture the whole of Cabaret as well. Those performances, from Liza Minnelli's extraordinary voice, to Fosse's crisp yet fluid choreography, to the use of light and color renders it stunning in the moment, with a twinge that comes after when the rush of the performance ends and its embedded barbs linger. That's the sense of Sally and Brian's story as well, a pair of individuals who take each other to different places, who find peace and solace and even joy for a time, but who feel the lingering scars, and see the pain on the horizon.
Sally and Brian are Berlin in the movie, enjoying the present and trying to look away from what the future holds. As the film ends, and that slanted reflection shows more and more Nazi armbands in the audience, in the society that needs a cabaret to forget about what's coming, that current of horror that lurks beneath the joy and happiness and bombast on the stage makes it all the more salient, as much now as it did when the haunting spectre of World War II was only a generation ago. Cabaret is a feast for the eyes and ears, that harbors a looming sense of dread for both a country and couple, even as it revels in their excitement and affection as they stand, with their hearts full, drinking in life and love.
[7.2/10] There’s a line from The Simpsons where Homer tells Bart, “When a woman says nothing’s wrong, that means everything’s wrong. And when a woman says everything’s wrong, that means everything’s wrong.” It’s a bit sexist, but I think Gilmore Girls is gesturing at the same idea here. Both Lorelai and Rory have nominally resolved any issues with their significant others, and things are supposedly fine, but you can tell in the wounded look behind Lorelai’s eyes when she finds out about the bag from Anna, and in the vacant way Rory lies about why she didn’t answer Logan’s calls, there is rot in the wood of both relationships, even if it hasn’t made it to the surface yet.
There’s interesting layers to that tack. It puts Rory and Lorelai in the same boat. For Rory, she has to admit that Logan is right on some logical level -- that he very likely believed that they were broken up when he slept with Honor’s friends and that he would not and has not been unfaithful to her, at least based on his own understanding of their relationship status. But some of the best conflicts come when there’s a clash between what is rationally true and what is emotionally resonant.
Rory can’t necessarily fault Logan for what he did. After all, it’s believable that someone as new at relationships as him would (a.) interpret a big fight as a break-up rather than a bump in the road (not to keep reverting back to Friends for this “on a break”-style fight, but Chandler had the same issue with Monica in one episode) and (b.) seek comfort in his old habits when he thought things had ended. But at the same time, she also can’t deny her own feelings of being hurt by it, of being almost unable to look at Logan, to speak to him, even as she puts up a front of normalcy.
Her friend reunion and reconciliation with Paris is sweet, and her hallway confessional from Logan seems to set things right, but there’s emotions at the bottom of this that can’t be swept away by Logan’s facts, which is what makes things so difficult and so interesting when two major figures in a show are acting so in character and yet at such cross purposes.
There’s a similar vibe for Lorelai here. She is trying with all her might to be cool about this whole long lost daughter situation, even as it results in she and Luke having to postpone their wedding. She doesn’t want to pressure Luke about it, she doesn’t want to snoop in on Anna, and she tries very hard to shut Rory down before even inching down that path.
But when she tells Luke that he needs a new duffel bag when chaperoning April’s field trip, and he, as is typical, brushes the suggestion off, only to show up with a new bag from Anna’s show when he returns, Lorelai is, understandably, a bit miffed, even if she tries not to show it. And like Logan, Luke has a reasonable explanation for this (much much lesser) offense -- that he didn’t ask for the bag, that it was sent to him without his knowledge, and that he’ll get rid of it if it bothers Lorelai.
Lorelai, like Rory, wants to be okay with this, doesn’t want to be the fiancee who gets precious about her future-husband’s luggage, but it’s another brick in the wall of Lorelai’s understandable discomfort with this situation. She too is pretending that everything’s “OK” when there’s real issues bothering her that would be better let out rather than kept behind that veneer.
Issues like the fact that it’s been months and Luke still hasn’t properly introduced Lorelai to April. I mean, what the hell Gilmore Girls. I can totally buy Luke wanting to give April a little time to acclimate to having a new parent in her life before he starts introducing a step family into the picture. And I can totally understand him wanting to ensure that he gets some quality one-on-one time with her so that they can make up for lost time and really bond. But what I cannot buy is a version of Luke who would not introduce the most important person in his world to his newfound daughter, and I especially cannot imagine a version of him who would not, at the very least, explain to Lorelai why he’s doing what he’s doing rather than just expecting her to butt out quietly. This storyline continues to be entirely out of character for Luke, and it means the show is laying the groundwork for a break-up a flimsy and unsatisfying foundation.
He’s not the only one acting out of character in this storyline either. I can totally buy Lorelai not wanting to make a fuss, and not wanting to confront Luke about why she’s been firewalled from April’s life. As Mrs. Bloom pointed out, that’s in keeping with a lot of her behavior regarding her daughter with respect to boys Lorelai didn’t approve of like Jess or Logan. But the other side of the coin is that Lorelai is something of a schemer, and so even if she wouldn’t come at Luke directly about this, she seems far more likely to say something like “Hey, Miss Patty is having a winter pageant for kids next week, why don’t you and I take April to it, that way we could all get to know one another better?” rather than just staying mum this entire time.
Again, the issues the show is dealing with are real and compelling in their own way, but don’t fit the characters as we know them, which makes the entire conflict feel false.
Speaking of people acting out of character, I was disappointed that Mrs. Kim didn’t cast Zach off into the bowels of hell when he expressed his desire to marry Lane. She was supposed to be our last line of defense against Zach saddling Lane with his idiocy for the rest of forever. But at least the show laid the groundwork there, with Mrs. Kim gradually finding a tolerance for her daughter’s different way of life, and she and Zach finding common ground and the basis for a mutual understanding over Lane’s glasses.
The bit with Mrs. Kim insisting that Zach write a hit (and showing a surprisingly strong understanding of melody and catchiness -- presumably from her girls’ singing group days) in order to show that he can provide for Lane is a cute one, though. And while I still wish she’d banish Zach to the ends of the Earth rather than welcome him into her family, it’s still touching when she coaxes him to (re-)propose, and gives the couple her grandmother’s ring to seal the deal. It’s a bit of fun and sweetness in an episode otherwise founded on couples trending in the wrong direction.
But this episode leans more into the fun and silliness for most of its run than it does into the heavier stuff. In fact, it’s a remarkably old school episode of Gilmore Girls in several ways, with Lorelai and Rory gallivanting about Stars Hollow, freaking out about a visit from Richard and Emily (which proved expectedly hilarious), and crossing swords with Michel at the inn.
That, however, just makes “I’m OK, You’re OK” a meta-example of its own idea. It’s an episode where both Luke and Logan are mostly absent, with only a conspicuously ignored ringing cell phone to hint at their presence. It’s an episode full of comedy and mother-daughter fun and the usual cheery banter that makes everything seem like business as usual on the show. But there’s those hints -- the cell phone, the bag, the briefly pained looks in the Gilmore Girls eyes -- to show that dark clouds are on the horizon, however bright and funny things seem right now.
There's nothing quite like a heartwarming Christmas film to get you in the spirit at this festive time of year. They couldn't have chosen a better lead role than Tim Allen, who I already associate with Christmas since he is actually Santa!
I really liked the running gag where they couldn't work out who Marty was. I've got to say though, I was a little disappointed that we did find out who he was eventually. For me, it would have been funnier had we never got to find out. But I suppose it brings it together to make sense.
The cast were brilliant, funny but realistic. They could perform visual comedy and slapstick very well. Unfortunately, there was too much focus pulling in the camera work which made it look ridiculous and distracting. But that's about the only downside to the movie.
One fantastic part of the movie is when they start singing an Eddie Cochran song "C'mon Everybody". Eddie Cochran is the bees-knees of music and I remember being pleasantly surprised at this when I saw this film in the cinema. (I've always been a huge Cochran fan.)
Definitely worth a watch and I'll probably watch it every year from now on.
It's only 77 days to go 'til the big day!! So Merry Christmas everyone!
Buck's problem is that he constantly worries he's a burden and that he's not needed (or wanted), so he goes big, larger-than-life personality, and does too much to "earn his keep". It makes him seem arrogant and annoying (and he can be annoying), but what looks like arrogance is actually insecurity. Which is why this episode is a success - Buck is reminded that his life DOES matter, he does have positive impact on the people around him. Right down to the shower of get-well gifts that greet him at the apartment... he is wanted and he wants to be there to be a part of that big family he now has.
As for Chimney and his father, gaaaaaah, love it! That note about pride and stubbornness making both father and son not reach out to each other in the past, that is so SO accurate and recognisable. It is that much more powerful when they gently try to connect and make room for each other.
I'm the biggest sucker for family bonding themes, 9-1-1 and its sister show have been consistent in that area.
9/10 - for the "lightning and the thunder" and a life saved. The music set the mood.
At one point in this movie, a character comments about how books and movies often fail to depict death. As she's trying to explain what they lack, she's interrupted. Though she does come back to elaborate further, I feel like this interaction is a microcosm of what this movie is trying to do -- trying to depict grief differently but constantly being interrupted before it can get to anything of depth, so when the point eventually arrives, it has no weight behind it.
The movie depicts three daughters who have been forced back together due to their dying father being placed in hospice. Instead of approaching grief with the thunderous emotions that you'd expect from most dramas, this movie instead focuses far more on the mundane and the banal arguments between the three daughters. It's very understated, with little to no flashy cinematography or score, instead entirely relying on dialogue and acting akin to a teleplay. The movie certainly has star power, but while Carrie Coon is able to infuse her character with depth, I found Natasha Lyonne playing the same character she normally does without bringing anything new. Elizabeth Olsen feels almost alien in this movie, her fast-paced dialogue lacking the naturalism the others have. Having been oh-too-keenly aware of the feeling of watching and caring for a close relative in hospice, I did actually think the movie was able to capture some of it well. There is pressure building between each conversation, fault lines littering commonday tasks. The mundanity of it all is very much part of the journey. However, it's simply not engaging by itself. At times, it feels like watching paint dry. And the drama between the three sisters lacks the depth to make up for the boredom. I was expecting something meatier, more cathartic, and an attempt at some sort of insight. The movie just fails to deliver on these fronts, and without being able to even deliver on the acting across its three stars, there isn't much left in this movie to appreciate.