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[9.2/10] One of the problems I often have with The Original Series is tone. It’s the sort of show that will play some confrontation for high drama, only to immediately jump to something campy. Or, as in “The Changeling,” it’ll present a tense, lethal standoff with a seemingly unbeatable foe, only to have Kirk close the episode by making some lame joke that everybody laughs at right before he presumably has to go notified the families of his dead crewmen. There’s nothing wrong with blending tones in principle, but it can be tricky, and the sort of whiplash it creates has hurt many a Star Trek episode.

But “I, Mudd”, by contrast, knows exactly what tone it wants to have -- absurd delight -- and it makes the most of that animating spirit. While I’m not always on the same wavelength of this show when it comes to comedy, the humorous bent of this episode worked on me like gangbusters. I have seen cleverer Star Trek episodes; I have seen deeper Star Trek episodes; I have seen more affecting Star Trek episodes. But I don't think I've ever seen a Star Trek episode made out of more pure, broadly comic delight than "I, Mudd."

That begins with the title character. I had mixed feelings about Ol’ Harcourt in “Mudd’s Women,” but I loved him here. Roger C. Carmel digs into the role with relish, playing Mudd as an oily, outsized, living cartoon character. The way he preens, boasts, takes theatrical offense to Kirk’s insults, just makes him this broad but ebullient presence throughout the proceedings. There’s little doubt that Star Trek is going for big comedy here, but Mudd is a character who can withstand it, even channel it, to wonderful comic ends. It’s a shame that (I think) we won’t see him again until The Animated Series.

But as much fun as Mudd is in and of himself, his best material comes from his interactions with the rest of the crew, Kirk in particular. When Mudd relays how he escaped from his predicament after Rigel 12, his increasing, flabbergasted annoyance at Kirk calling him out on his self-aggrandizing euphemism is superb. The dynamic between the captain and the huckster is particularly well-written here, and it livens each moment the two men share the screen. Beyond that, his exchange with Spock over “selling fake patents to your mother” nicely blends Mudd’s over-the-top expressivism and the consistently great dry comedy of the Vulcan officer.

In the midst of all these great laughs and the superb character-based comedy, “I, Mudd” manages to include a pretty great little sci-fi story to boot. It’s not an especially novel one for Star Trek. We’ve done ancient robots before; we’ve done not being able to leave a planet before; and we’ve done defeat via logical paradox before. Still, there’s enough wrinkles to this one, Mudd included, to make the adventure down on the planet interesting.

Part of that comes from the androids’ “kill ‘em with kindness approach.” Star Trek goes full Asimov here, with the robots realizing that if their duty is to serve man, then the logical endpoint of that duty is to make sure that their guests can never leave so that the androids can make them as happy as possible. What makes that tack interesting is that in contrast to some of the other threats the crew of The Enterprise has faced, these robots are trying to tempt our heroes rather than cow them.
Uhura is offered indelible beauty and immortality (a prospect they raise against nicely as part of the later feint). Unexpected lothario Chekov (seriously, as much as Kirk’s reputation with alien ladies proceeds him, it’s Chekov who always seems to be macking on someone) is waited on by a pair of beautiful ladies with oblique hints that he can do with them what he will. Bone is amazed at the medical lab the robots have, and Scotty feels the same about their engineering shop. It’s not quite the same as “The Menagerie” or, god help me, “The Apple,” but Trek explores the conflict between paradise and freedom with commitment.

Still, it’s just as committed to making the loony most of the predicament presented. While the interconnected artificial beings (paging The Borg) feels like an excuse for a typical “we have to destroy the controlling hub!” solution, it’s the shape that solution takes that really elevates the episode. While the “short circuit the android with contradictions” is a cliché at this point, the way the crew does it -- by acting weird -- is utterly delightful.

To be frank, it feels like a Futurama solution (which is, I fully admit, putting the horse before the cart). It is easy to imagine the Planet Express crew facing a group of logic-bound androids and deciding the best way to make them explode is to be goofy and crazy, just as the Enterprise crew did here. And the way Kirk and company pull it off is delightful.

The manic joy in the eyes of the gang as Chekov and Uhura dance while Bones and Scotty play imaginary instruments and Kirk conducts is just perfect. Chekov being told to stay still and instead doing a little pirouette is amazing. Spock telling identical androids that he hates one and loves the other because of their similarities, or offering beatnik poetry about logic being a tweeting bird or a wreath of awful-smelling flowers has particular comic force coming from him. And the group’s pantomime of the explosives and other imagination game that prove to be too much for the robots show a comedic verve and commitment to silliness that really paid dividends.

In the midst of all this silliness, “I, Mudd” offers a trite but still well-observed take on humanity -- that as much as these artificial creatures may want to study us, there is an inherent, illogical contradiction baked into the human condition, whether in the form of enjoying captivity while wanting to be free, or loving and hating at once, or being able to be enmeshed in real danger while embracing the irreverence of the imagination, that is too much for any purely logical creature to understand.

Part of that contradiction is being able to take a television show committed to drama and danger, albeit a fairly campy one, and spend an episode that blends that sort of adventure with broadly comic goofball antics. Mudd being surrounded by a trio of copies of his scolding wife (who, in a nod to the casting director and costumers, looks like an appropriately severe woman) is the right ridiculous note to go out on. Star Trek doesn’t always get this silly or this comedically exaggerated, but when it does, it’s an absolute joy.

[6.2/10] This is a weird episode, in that it combines this down to earth, very real emotional beats and real talk with unpleasant, broad, traditiona sitcom-level conflict.

Take the main story about Ben and Leslie helping out with Model U.N. There’s plenty of room for great comic stuff, like the pair dorking out in adorable fashion, April’s fascination with representing the moon, Andy trading militaries for lions, and April and Leslie’s high school-esque heart-to-heart. There’s also room for some good, real-feeling character stuff, with Ben feeling put on hold by Leslie, and Leslie feeling that Ben isn’t understanding enough of the position she’s in. That’s good stuff, and the heart in it almost carries the day.

But the Model U.N. war gets so bad and childish (which the show at least acknowledges) that it takes much of the punch out of the human element. It’s supposed to be “they get carried away and realizes how they’ve gone too far” bit, and it works to some degree, but the Model U.N. childishness is just too much, and cuts against the solid relationship material at the core.

The same definitely goes for Chris’s little pow-wow with Ann, Jerry, and Donna. Ann giving Chris “real talk” about how he needs to give his romantic partners space to be themselves and not overwhelm them is solid, and despite the broad elements of it, feels like a real conversation at times. But returning to the well of Jerry’s uncomfortableness, and the whole “focus group on my relationship” tack is strange and hurts the epiphany at the center of it.

Tom and Ron’s story works the best of the three in the episode, possibly because it’s the most straightforward, but even it is trying at times. Ron’s a noble guy, and his trying to let Tom save face and have his old job, alongside a cavalcade of hilariously underqualified candidates (including a young Kyle Mooney!) is a nice storyline. Tom pushing his nobility too far, until Ron basically manhandles him into accepting makes Tom look pretty awful (though I love Ron’s angry walk), but it’s still the most effective bit in the episode.

Overall, this is one of the more uneven episodes of Parks and Rec you’re likely to find, one that has many of the ingredients that make the show great, but which mixes them in with strange choices or unpleasant stuff that makes it a mishmash of good stuff and stuff that just feels off.

[8.2/10] What a blast this is. I’m impressed both at how well WandaVision is able to replicate the 1950s sitcom vibe, especially for supernatural-themed comedies like Bewitched mixed with The Dick van Dyke show, while also including a subtle but palpable sense of existential terror beneath the three camera confines of the show.

I really enjoy how this first episode plays on the classic sitcom tropes: a couple not remembering an important date on the calendar, a wacky neighbor, a boss coming over for dinner who needs to be impressed. The show does a nice spin on them, while also feeling true to the sitcoms it’s paying homage to. I’m particularly stunned by the cast, who are able to replicate that acting style, and the editors and other behind the scenes craftsmen, who are able to replicate the rhythm, to such perfection.

What’s neat is that the episode works pretty perfectly separate and apart from its larger MCU connections as a solid old school sitcom pastiche. There’s a lot of nice setup and payoffs of gags, like Wanda repurposing a magazine's “Ways to please your man” article to distract her husband’s boss and his wife, or Vision singing “Yakety Yak” after decrying it earlier. Even the lobster door knocker routine was a fun and comical grace note to an earlier bit. As cornball as it is, there’s something charming about this sort of thing, right down to the “What do we actually do here?” gag about the computer company. And despite the light spoofing at play, this works as a solid meat and potatoes sitcom episode.

But the show goes a step further and has real fun with the fact that its leads are a self-described witch and a magical mechanical man respectively. There’s tons of amusing gags, starting with the intro, about the pair using their powers in trifling 1950s household sorts of ways. At the same time, it does well with the jokes about hiding their true identities. Vision writing off Wanda’s behavior as “European”, Wanda reassuring her neighbor that her husband is human, and Vision taking offense when a coworker tells him he’s a “walking computer” are all entertaining bits that make the most of the weird premise.

And yet, what really elevates this episode is the unnerving hints that there’s something terribly wrong going on here. It’s not hard to guess that after the events of Endgame, there’s still concerns about what happened to vision. The show plays with the melodic rhythms of the sitcom form to suggest something off at the edges here, in a really sharp way.

For instance, there’s an interstitial commercial featuring a Stark toaster, and not only does it feature the only bit of color in the black and white presentation with the beeping light, but the toasting takes just a beat too long for comfort. Likewise, the fact that Wanda and Vision can’t remember their story or how they got married is initially played for laughs, but then it becomes creepy when Mrs. Hart demands answers.

The peak of this comes when Mr. Hart chokes on his broccoli and the artifice freezes for a moment, leaving everyone paralyzed by the departure from how things work in this sort of situation. It’s a great piece of work, of a piece with the likes of Twin Peaks and Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared in its quiet horror.

I’ll refrain from speculating about who’s watching the broadcast we see or who’s in the monitoring room we seem to have an eye on, but the hints at what's really going on, and how that influences the images the audience witnesses, creates a great organic mystery and another layer to the proceedings.

Overall, this is a boffo debut for the series, and I’m excited to watch more!

With “The Naked Time” I am four episodes into Star Trek, and thus far every plot has followed a similar formula. The crew gets some kind of unexpected visitor, someone starts acting strange in a way that is initially puzzling but innocuous, and then it’s realized that the safety of the ship and the crew are threatened so Kirk and the rest of the senior staff try to figure out how to save it all. Sure, at high enough level of abstraction, any pair of stories can be made to sound the same, but I feel like there’s been a fair amount of the “someone on the ship starts acting funny, and everyone slowly but surely figures out what’s happening” blueprint that’s been followed in these first four installments.

And yet, this is very likely the best of them. Sure, there’s some silliness and very Sixties elements of this. The Irish officer devolving into Irish stereotypes is kind of odd, and as fun and bonkers as it is to see Sulu gallivanting about the ship brandishing a foil, it’s pretty silly stuff. And the entire way the biological agent makes it onto the ship, with a doomed redshirt taking off his glove on an alien planet, is kind of dumb. (Though there was something legitimately unnerving about his attempt at self-harm.)

To boot, Star Trek still has a problem in its early going of holding the audience’s hand through all of this (notice how much time it spends in the first infection scene to make sure we know who got infected and how). There’s an overexplain-y quality to the show, where even when there’s a mystery, it telegraphs everything that’s happening or expected to happen.

But by the same token, this is the first time the show has really delved into some meaningful pathos or even real tragedy for its main characters. The scene between Spock and Christine was far and away the best of the series so far, with Christine (who I didn’t realize was Majel Barrett!) making a surprisingly compelling plea and account of her affections for Spock. You buy her description of him, and in less than a minute, accept the two of them as a legitimate, root-worthy pairing.

For his part, Leonard Nimoy knocks it out of the park, both in terms of Spock’s shocked, tempted, but still reserved response to Christine’s advance, but also in his tortured private moments of trying to maintain his Vulcan detachment while the infection takes hold. Maybe it’s just the way Spock has been mythologized in the fifty years after the show debuted, but seeing his stoicism fall, seeing him emotional, almost unstable, and talking to no one in particular about the difficulty in caring about people and not being able to express it was absolutely tremendous. (And serves as a nice forerunner to a similar bit with Picard and Spock’s father in TNG). Nimoy doesn’t get to show off his acting chops as much as Spock, or at least doesn’t get to be as showy about it, given the constraints of his character, but when let off his leash like this, the results are outstanding.

William Shatner is…not quite as good of an actor. That’s no big deal necessarily – and his scene-chewing overwrought qualities have been well-documented elsewhere. But I still like his character as written here, and the sense that, as loose and occasionally cavalier as Kirk may seem, at least by reputation, there are parts of himself and impulses that he holds in reserves, and feels as trapped as he does entranced by his duties as captain. It’s an interesting shade of the character that gives some added dimension that I appreciated.

Of course, the episode ends with Bones finding a cure and getting everyone back in shape before things get too too terrible. The ticking clock of the orbited planet collapsing creates some easy but solid stakes for Scotty to get in and take control of the ship back. That said, the whole time dilation thing seems like a pretty weird throw-in that doesn’t seem to accomplish much, but whatever.

Overall, this is an episode that scores higher marks that its similarly-tuned predecessors for showing new sides and depths in its main characters, throwing in some goofy sci-fi fun, and a particularly great performance from Leonard Nimoy. There’s still some cheese that takes some getting used to for me as a viewer in 2016, but it’s a big step in the right direction.

7.2/10. Very interesting as an entree into The Original Series. It's funny coming to the series so late, after being so immersed in the other installments of the franchise and various parodies thereof, because I feel like I already know these characters, even as they're given a different tint by dint of seeing them in the garish hues of the Sixties original.

The episode itself feels like an embryonic version of It Follows, with the idea of a steady creepy horror that takes on the appearance of something you love or desire. The actor who plays Crewman Green in particular does a great job at conveying the unnerving nature of the creature. There's some heady stuff, particularly at the end, with the idea that Professor Crater and the creature had some form of symbiosis -- him helping it get the salt it needed to survive, and it helping him avoid the reality of the death of his wife. There's also some interesting moral philosophy at play about the idea of preserving the last of something ("like the buffalo" as the episode beats you over the episode.) And there's even a bit of that old chestnut trope that persistently shows up in zombie movies -- can you kill something that looks like a loved one but you know is dangerous? A lot of this is played out in pretty simple terms, but there's some deceptive complexity under the hood.

The pacing, though, nearly killed me. In some ways, that worked to help communicate the steady but unassuming horror of the creature, but man did it feel like the show was just filling time at various points, like discussing the plan to stun Prof. Crater, then setting up, then stunning him, etc. etc. etc. I was also surprised at how smug and kind of a dick Kirk is here. I know the character as having a certain amount of Bravado, but his friendship with Bones is one of those things that you just pick up through osmosis from years of watching and discussing the franchise, and as jocular as they are together, he's kind of a jerk to the good doctor at times.

There's other fun oddities here and there. The production design is really interesting, if only as an idea of what people in 1966 thought the future would be life. There's a certain Dr. Seuss quality to some of the sets, especially the botany lab. (The silly venus flytrap handpuppet lent to that sense.) Uhura hitting on Spock was an unexpected treat, even the tones of it feel a little dated and sexist now. And little details like the creature not being able to vamp on Spock because of his different physiology were nice too.

Overall, I can't say I was over the moon about my first real foray into the world of TOS, but I liked a lot of what it was doing, and I'm intrigued to see where the series goes from here.

The meanest thing I could say about this movie is ‘Has extreme Don’t Worry Darling energy’.

I have never seen a movie more desperate to justify itself. It’s trapped in this endless neurosis over what it is- a blockbuster Barbie movie in 2023 by an acclaimed art house director that is fun but also deep but also earnest but also self aware but also but also but also. Every point it raises it brings up a counterpoint to before the audience can, every frame is trying to prove it’s not just product but art. It’s never just Barbie. It’s never confident or even comfortable in its skin. You cannot for a second be immersed in Barbie because it’s not a story so much as a visual dissertation without a central thesis, it’s a student film riffing on the big dogs hoping it’s underdog audacity will carry it but given a budget in the millions. It so desperately wants you to like it, to know it’s in on the joke too.

Everythng is an ouroboros here: an endless loop of argument and counterarguement feeding itself. Isn’t it shitty how the Mattel boardroom is full of men? Ah, but isn’t it cool how Mattel’s acknowledged it with this niche? And it’ll mythologize Barbie’s creator but uh don’t worry she did tax evasion we know that, now let her impart into Barbie the experience of all women. Barbie helps women, Barbie hurts women, Barbie is told to be everything so isn’t she just like women, but it is better to be a creator than the idea, and in the end, hasn’t Barbie helped all these women? Oh uh why is this blonde white Barbie the centerpiece of it all and helping not only her diverse Barbie friends but a Hispanic woman and her daughter? Don’t worry we’ll have the daughter call her a white savior! But don’t worry we’ll have the mom say she’s not! It’s fascinating to watch, honestly. It’s a film that wants to prove to you so so bad that it works but it doesn’t and it knows it doesn’t and it knows you knows. It’s Gerta Gerwig wrestling with taking this job for an hour and a half.

The cast is more than game and able. Margot Robbie is doing her damndest to find the heart and soul in this role, and there’s one scene with an old lady near the end of the first act/beginning of the second that actually works, for just a moment, more than any of the big third act soliloquies or montages with emotional ballads. And as someone who’s seen Blade Runner 2049 and Drive, this is the best Ryan Gosling performance I’ve seen. The man commits and delivers a surprisingly compelling and entertaining antagonist. The movie can’t quite reconcile what he’s done with his ending, or tie it into the themes- is Ken letting go of Barbie and the need to define himself for or against her symbolizing the need for men to do the same, and if so, why play it so lightly and sympathetically?- but that’s not his fault. And the supporting cast are entertaining, but you just can’t have big laughs with a movie that feels like it’s constantly checking in the corner of its eye after every joke to see if you’re laughing, grin stuck in place. It’s not as funny or as smart as it wants to be, and the sad thing is, it feels like it knows that too.

There is some great set design, cinematography, dazzling choreography, popping colors, and some fun high points. But I can’t imagine many kids liking it. And we’ve seen how conservatives have taken this movie. And anyone’s who’s progressed beyond the politics of. Well. A feminist blockbuster Barbie movie will find it cloying or condescending or just incredibly basic. It’s aimed at a very specific crowd who will buy what it’s saying, the liberals who see corporate feminism as progress, who agree that it’s just about a little change sometimes, who are ready for something just a little more complex than a SNL sketch. I don’t regret seeing it, because I was deeply engaged the whole time seeing it struggle at war with itself, in pain for its whole existence. It’s not a boring movie by any means. It wants to say everything before the audience can say it first. It’s the endpoint of The Lego Movie and Enchanted- the corporations interrogating and justifying themselves, and the cracks in this formula are too large to ignore. It wants to be so much, and the attempt is as darkly mesmerizing as a fly thinking it can somehow and someway metamorphize into a butterfly and suffocating and struggling in its makeshift cocoon, but this is one Barbie that fundamentally just cannot break out of its box.

[8.4/10] Some cringey moments, but that’s one of the things the Greg Daniels-Michael Schur coaching tree does really well. I love the theme of this one, where everyone, in their own way, confronts what the end of the world would mean to them, and each character’s personality is reflected in their reaction.

First and foremost are the Zorpies though! It’s not deep (or, at best, it’s fodder for other parts of the show to be deep), but I love the quiet riff on Scientology and other local cults. The details like the founder being an office supply manager or their little wooden flutes or their smugness at paying for things with a check are delightful.

They also create a great setup for some good Ben and Leslie drama. Leslie is at her most exaggerated and dare I say, unpleasant, since Season 1. I don’t mean to say that I don’t enjoy her here, but she’s normally someone so easy to root for who tries so hard to be a good person. Here, she’s being selfish and unfair, and that’s entirely human and understandable, but also compromises her character a bit. It’s a good thing, and gives her reason to acknowledge it and make amends.

Her conversation with Ron, like most of her conversations with Ron, is fine fine material too. They have such a great dynamic. He tells her that no matter how much the epiphany that she’d want to spend the end of the world with Ben means to her; it won’t be ending, and she’ll be back where she started. It’s sobering, and it serves as motivation for Leslie to be an adult and apologize (albeit sneakily). I don’t know. I like extreme Leslie, who’s clearly in the wrong but going after what she wants (or scaring people off from what she can’t have) in her own loony way. It makes her as endearing as all the preternaturally capable things she accomplishes do.

Tom and Jean Ralphio face the end of the world by, true to form, throwing the perfect party. The party is such a great reflection of the trendy pair’s unrestrained ids at play. The over-the-top cartoonish and uber-stylish vibe of everything is a great reflection of their sensibility, straddling the line between ridiculous and just believable enough to seem plausible. Bringing back Lucy to give it a little emotional punch is nice, and Tom and his buddy losing, but trying to make the best of it is very endearing as well.

Even Chris and Ann, who are mostly a sideshow here, have their moments. Chris contemplating the Reasonabilist philosophy, and Ann cutting through it with her homespun wisdom, which naturally leads them to the party, is a pleasant bit. And Ron taking advantage of the Zorp cult to sell his wooden flutes and recorders is plenty funny, especially when they’re hailing Zorp and he’s just counting dollars.

The most affecting story, though, is probably Andy and April’s. The pair trying to do everything on Andy’s bucket list is as adorable as you’d expect, and fits their creative, impulsive, “don’t think, just stupid” philosophy. Maybe it’s just the indie rock soundtrack, but their spur of the moment trip to see the Grand Canyon is touching in just the right way. It’s not cloying, but April admitting that she wants to be annoyed by it and is coming up empty sells the moment (along with Andy wondering where Mt. Rushmore is).

Overall, if the world were ending, I don’t know if I’d be watching Parks and Recreation, but it’s still a nice set of stories about people spending a night thinking about where they’d want to be, and who they’d want to be with, if there were no tomorrow.

[5.9/10] Suffice it to say, not my favorite episode of the show. Tom just acts like too much of a jerk to be redeemed in the last two minutes. I get the vulnerability he’s supposed to be showing after his grand business idea fails, but it still just rubs me the wrong way how he pulls the rug out from under Leslie like that. It’s Tom at his most selfish and annoying, and it’s not the sort of thing you can just sweep under the rug.

It’s not like he crosses any major moral event horizons or anything, and Leslie’s mild drowning of him is amusing enough as a bit of revenge (not to mention her great “butthead” line), but it’s just one of the more unpleasant stories the show has done, and it doesn’t really recover enough goodwill in the end to make up for it, even if Leslie’s confidence that Tom won’t fail again is encouraging and Tom’s video biography of Leslie is sweet.

The rest of the episode is solid enough. My favorite of the other stories is Ron and Ann’s. Ron derives such joy from fixing things, and him sharing that with Ann, who takes to it with her usual enthusiasm, creates a small but heartwarming bond between the two of them. Ann is particularly funny with how into it she gets.

My least favorite story is Chris and Jerry’s. Maybe I’m just supposed to find Chris feeling uncomfortable about seeing his daughter in the throes of passion funnier than I do, but it’s continued to be a dud for me. Rob Lowe’s still doing good work as the endlessly positive Chris, but I just don’t love where they’re going with it.

Somewhere in the middle is the Ben/Andy/April storyline. When Andy and April throw a party and don’t tell Ben, it brings out their different methods of conflict resolution. That’s a decent enough storyline, and each of them having to figure out a method of resolving their beefs that works for everyone, particularly Ben having to overcome his passive aggressive hints at things, is a solid notion. The comedy just doesn’t follow like it needs to an the resolution is a bit underwhelming.

Overall, it’s still P&R so there’s still a decent number of laughs and some good character moments, but the show can do better.

[9.7/10] Such a great episode. It would be so easy to turn something like Ron excluding girls from his scouting group and Leslie having her own rival faction into a hackneyed battle of the sexes. Instead, it goes a completely different direction – understanding that equality isn’t about competition or winning, but about everyone getting the chance to follow what drives them, no matter what’s between their legs.

Oh yeah, and it’s extraordinarily funny to boot. I get caught up in the maturity and legitimate complexity of the issues Parks and Rec is willing to address and the way it addresses them, but bits like tots shushing Ann or Leslie talking about her “70/30” pride to annoyance ratio, or Andy going gaga for puppies is just great stuff. Amy Poehler is on fire as well, from her silly southern belle impression to her overcompetitive bent at the campsite to her legitimate heart-to-heart and understanding of Ron.

The B-story of this one is great too. Treat Yo Self has become one of the show’s most iconic bits, and leaning into Tom and Donna’s more outsized yuppie couture qualities lends itself to plenty of fodder for comedy on its own. But as usual, throwing in Ben to be the straight man baffled at all the insanity around him pays humorous dividends.

But here again, the show doesn’t go just for laughs, using it as a way for Tom and Donna to help Ben through the rough time he’s having with the break up. Him crying in the Batman suit is simultaneously hilarious and heartbreaking (especially with Tom’s response), and the two Treaters pumping Ben up and telling him to let it out is a sweet character moment.

It also dovetails nicely with the A-story. Donna realizes that treating yo self is an individual thing, not a one size fits all endeavor, and following the spirit of the holiday means changing up its practices for the person celebrating it. The same goes for Ron and Leslie.
Leslie is never going to abide gender segregation, but it takes winning and the entire boys ranger group wanting to become “Pawnee Godesses” for Leslie to realize that Ron didn’t believe in gender segregation, he just wanted to do wilderness training his way, and when faced with young men and women who are willing to be a “Swanson” he’s as happy to train them, because getting to do something that’s “no fun at all” is far more important to him than the rules he didn’t put in place but didn’t object to. Leslie reveling in winning, getting her own “Little Leslie Knope” monsters coming back at her for a bit of hypocrisy, and both her and Ron finding joy in their own non-gender-specific group is a great story for both of them.

The only bit in this episode that doesn’t do much for me is Chris dating Jerry’s daughter. I know they needed something for these characters to do, and there’s a mild bit of comedy from Jerry’s uncomfortableness at Chris’s forthrightness, but it’s just not as strong as the rest of the material.

Still, a fantastic A-story that understands its characters and has empathy and perspective on both, coupled with an almost-as-good B-story that is iconic but also emotional makes this one of P&R’s finest half hours.

[8.5/10] In some ways the Obama birther nonsense feels like it was a million years ago, and in others, it feels like it was just yesterday. P&R folds that topic, like it does so many current events, into its own little world in a natural way. From complaints about "gotcha" journalism, to calls for long form birth certificates, to the delightfully specific reveal that Leslie was born in Eagleton, the episode does great at commenting on the absurdity of such complaints in a funny, and ultimately inspiring sort of way. The "it's not where you're born, it's where you're from" commentary isn't exactly funny, but using Leslie's clear and utter devotion to the City of Pawnee as a way to take the air out of the whole birther idea works like gangbusters.

It's also superb for the comedy side. Leslie's disgust (and near-vomiting) after having to even say the words Eagleton is great. Chris being shocked when his attractiveness doesn't get him a special exception at the Eagleton records office is a nicely played moment from Rob Lowe, and Andy leaping over the counter is an excellent bit of physical comedy. Even the recurring gag about racoons infesting Pawnee is a nice touch.

The B-story with Tom, Ben, and Joan was a little broader. I do like the idea of Tom having to face the music after flirting with Joan for so long, and Mo Collins is a pro, but it got a bit over the top at points. Still, Ben's sarcastic commentary ("Is she going to powder her vagina?" "That was as long as it was loud") saved any of the more ridiculous parts.

And the C-story with Ann trying to have a 5-minute conversation with Ron and April was well-conceived as well. Putting Ann on an island in those talking heads can be a gamble because she works better when playing off of someone, and this was no exception, but the well-edited sequences of her trying to get some sort meaningful response from the two unenthusiastic acquaintances landed very nicely. The medical malady story as the clincher was great too. And the capper, with Ron and April using wrong names for people, worked superbly as well.

Overall, a very strong episode that brings the laughs and packs a little emotional punch in the process.

[7.7/10] The theme of this one works – not running away from your problems and facing your difficulties head on. The Leslie-Ron is one of the strongest platonic relationships in all of television, and so having them each escaping their (very differently) problematic paramours and realizing that that’s no way to be is a good way to go. Ron’s first ex-wife is more in the cartoony vein (though the fact that she works for the IRS makes for a nice foil to his libertarian leanings), but it works well enough with Ron’s more outsized qualities. (His insta-step, go bag, bushy beard, and warning about the quantities of ground chuck he keeps in his desk are all classic Ron.)

But Leslie’s is more understandable, albeit a bit sitcom-y. The notion of wanting to avoid telling Ben about her campaign, so as to avoid having to end this great thing they’ve been enjoying, is a very human impulse, even if it’s realized with “ladies yacht club” excuses and emergency s’more supplies. [spoiler]The scene where she does face the difficult thing, and Ben reveals the button[/spoiler] is one of the signature moments of the whole show. Revealing how perfect they are for each other – given how Ben immediately understands why they can’t be together and founding it on how important it is that Leslie get the respect and esteem she deserves – and making it tragic but sweet that they have to break up.[/spoiler] The campaign arc is one of the high water marks for P&R as a whole, and this was a lovely way to kick it off.

The “text your dong” B-plot is peak Ann comedy, with her deadpan and justifiably creeped out response to everyone being pretty perfect. It’s an absurd way to go, but everything from her reaction to Chris’s description of testicles as the “ears” of the crotch area, to the guy talking about watching women’s golf and having a few glasses of wine, to the “your inbox is literally filled with penises” bit, it’s a great sendup of the ridiculousness and creepiness of sending pictures of your penis.

Otherwise, the episode is pretty tame. Tom handing out pointless Entertainment 720 swag is a nice indication that the company doesn’t do anything but pointless branding. (Andy summing it up as “you put logos on things?” is a nice bit.) And Andy’s minor internal conflict over whether to accept Tom’s job offer, with April getting him a job as Leslie’s assistant instead, is an abbreviated story but one that works well for what it needs to do.

Overall, it’s a quality episode, one that still includes a bit more setup than knocking things down, but the kickoff of the Knope campaign (and the personal costs associated with it), plus the whole texting bit make it enjoyable.

[7.3/10] There’s some cool moments in this episode, but mostly it stumbles by feeling more like a setup for S4 than a conclusion to S3. L’il Sebastian’s memorial service creates a big enough set piece to send the season out in fine fashion, but the stories feel more disjointed and incomplete than usual, and that hurts the proceedings.

On the one hand, the main story is pretty good, even if the resolution is saved for S4. The notion that Leslie and Ben are playing with fire is a good one, particularly with Ron finding out and providing a convincing demonstration as to why they’ll get caught and fired and there’ll be nothing he can do about it.

The love vs. job routine is an old one, but the episode nicely underlines how these two career-focused people may very well be able to do their work and have a relationship at the same time, but that it’s too much for them hide it at the same time. All the screw-ups and rearranging at L’il Sebastian’s funeral are a great illustration of that, and Ron being the voice of reason and suffering the brunt of their on-the-fly retooling is a nice touch and wake up call.

The rest of the episode has mini-stories, few of which get particularly tied off, but which point things in new directions for S4. The biggest is Tom and Entertainment Seven-Twenty, which is pleasant enough, and has the same deal with him deciding whether he’s done all he can in government, but there’s more seed than tree here.

Andy’s song is great, and his asking April to be his manager after she gets him 50 bucks and helps him with songs is kind of cute, but it’s also very slight. The same goes for the hints at Tammy 1’s return and the shitstorm to follow.

The best of them, oddly enough, is Chris and Ann’s bit. Chris seeing tendonitis, coupled with L’il Sebastian’s death, as a harbinger of death is a good choice for the episode. The endlessly positive guy facing a minor setback and having it all crumble down for him emotionally made me laugh and even pity Chris. But it also gives Ann a chance to regain some standing in their (platonic) relationship, to help him and be a bigger person, and that’s a nice beat and resolution to Ann’s story throughout the season. Really, hers is the only one that gets closed out in a satisfying fashion here.

Still, even if it’s open-ended, I do love where they leave things with Ben and Leslie. Job vs. love is, again, a little trite even if it’s been done well in the back half of S3. Still, now we’re talking about love vs. dream, and that’s a miniature horse of a different color. It’s more cliffhanger than anything, but it raises the stakes in a believable and compelling way, and that give it a lot of credit. I don’t like the way this one just seems like part 1 to the S4 premiere, but in an age of binge watching and streaming that doesn’t matter as much I suppose. It’s a good enough episode, it just feels a bit incomplete.

[7.2/10] This is a pretty good, but not great episode. The main plot, about Ben meeting Leslie’s mom, is one of those typical sitcom plots that the show can breathe new life into with its execution. Details like Leslie and Maureen’s simultaneous head tilts are great stuff. Still, the twist that Maureen makes a pass at Ben doesn’t really work for me, as it feels a little too contrived a monkey wrench to throw into “the bubble.”

Still, the whole “bubble” thing resonates, with the universal desire to prolong that initial burst of carefree euphoria invoked, and that gives it a bit more pep. At the same time, after being initially flummoxed by Leslie underpreparing him, and then doing too good a job after Leslie overprepares him, the fact that Ben finds the middle ground (and backbone) on his own initiative to tell Maureen that he and Leslie are dating is a nice resolution.

The B-story with Ron reacting to Chris shaking up the department is a mixed bag as well. The various changes lead to some funny scenes (like the woman who made tea with sprinkler water chasing Ron around his swivel-desk), but gets a little broad for my tastes. Still, Ron perfectly assessing his team to Chris to try to undo the shakeup, and stomaching a week at the dreaded swivel desk as a sacrifice for the return to normalcy are nice looks for him.

The C-story with Tom and Andy helping to digitize the archives on the fourth floor is similarly hit or miss. Andy’s clueless enthusiasm is always funny, but Tom’s stymied schemes don’t do much for me, and the exaggerated gags about how horrible the fourth floor are a bit too much as well. (Though the guy who pour out coffee and then smashes the pot is a nicely surreal moment.) It’s a decent enough way for Tom to start feeling the tug of his leash in local government, but moment-to-moment it’s just not that great.

Overall, it’s an episode with some evident flaws, but still a largely enjoyable one due to the comedy and characters.

[7.6/10] I go back and forth on the Ben-Leslie stuff here. On the one hand, the first half of it is near-perfect. The pair of them having to take a trip together, whilst trying to avoid one another so as to avoid temptation, is a classic setup that leads to a lot of great things. First and foremost, Leslie’s efforts to project unsexiness and platonic conversation are pretty great, from the banjo music to conversations about Johns Hopkins dorms to inviting random photographers to play third wheel.

It also leads to Ben talking about how great Pawnee is to the bigwigs in Indiana, which is possibly the sexiest and most endearing thing a man can do in Leslie’s book. The episode plays her conflictedness well, between her harried excuse to call Ann (whose half-hearted admonitions and joy when they’re ignored are superb), her clear affection for Ben, and her fear of losing a job that she cares about. It’s all very well done, and Amy Poehler and Adam Scott do great work at showing the chemistry between their characters.

Then Chris shows up and it turns into a wacky sitcom game of three’s company. It’s not my favorite use of Chris, as his blithe but pestersome qualities get to be too much here, and the entire bit is a little hackneyed. Still, that frustration and separation heightens the catharsis when Ben finally kisses Leslie, Leslie kisses Ben, and then there’s the perfect reaction to it – “Uh oh.” So well done, and such a great payoff to a season of teasing.

The B-story of April and Andy’s mini-fight from Tom’s proto-version of “Know Ya Boo” is nice enough. Tom’s entrepreneurial spirit and showboating come into play well, and Donna and Jerry doing surprisingly well at the Newlywed Show-esque game is a cute gag. The conflict between the actual newlyweds, however, is a bit easy, with the Mouserat vs. Neutral Milk Hotel argument being one of the sillier bits. Still, April going so far as to seek help from Ann, and rectifying things by covering a Mouserat song adds a nice emotional punch to the finish. And the whole thing centers around Andy and his devotion to his band, which is another nice way the show roots these things in character.

But speaking of which, the best thing in this episode is the part where Ron instructs a little girl about his libertarianism. It’s hard to articulate why this bit is so hilarious and adorable, but something about seeing the middle-aged, solitary grump finding a kindred spirit for his political views in an elementary schooler is utterly delightful. His lessons (particularly the lunch-eating) is great, and the fact that the little girl’s mom makes him recant, but that he wants an autographed copy of her essay anyway is the perfect finish.

Overall, it’s an episode that serves as the culmination of a lot of Leslie-Ben stuff, but stumbles a bit along the way to the finish line, with a nice enough April-Andy story and an all-time great Ron story in support.

[9.4/10] Such a great episode. The way it manages to split the difference between real interpersonal conflict and wacky comedy, with Leslie and Ann especially, is absolutely genius. Their fight over Leslie pushing Ann a little too hard and Ann blowing off Leslie’s job offer, has both an understandable emotional core rooted in the characters’ different personalities, and also a goofy but true enough tone to it. Their argument in the bathroom has the ring of a real fight between friends to it, even if a lot of the words are nonsense, which makes it feel as genuine as it is funny.

Plus, Snake Juice! Seeing everybody wasted is an utter delight. Ron especially is great, between his seriousness about endorsing the product after trying it, to his adorable little dance in the brilliant montage of everyone’s drunken ramblings. The training for selling the product is hilarious (especially Ron’s pronunciation of kuh-razy). Tom having to sell his stake in the Snakehole Lounge gives the whole storyline somewhere to go, but it’s mostly just good fodder for laughs.

And you know who I liked in this episode who didn’t really click with me on my first watch of this show? John Ralphio. His one-word-too-many rhymes were an amusing gag, his utter willingness to dance with Leslie at her immediate demand was great, and his slightly exasperated “a lot riding on this” when Tom wagers John Ralphio shaving his head if Ron doesn’t like the drink is a perfect line delivery. I even like Nick Kroll as The Douche here, who occasionally grates on me, mostly because he’s the butt of Ann and Leslie’s jokes.

I’m also, as always, a big fan of Andy and April here. Them going whole-hog as Janet Snakehole (which allows Aubrey Plaza to play some different notes than April usually hits) and Burt Macklin is a ton of fun in the skeezy club setting. And there’s even a nice beat for the two of them at the end, with a massively hungover Andy powering through to show April that he’s always there to be silly with her (and eventually throw up).

It also advances the Ben-Leslie story nicely. Hinging part of the fight on Ann castigating Leslie for using the rule as an excuse (even though, you know, the risk of losing a job you love is a pretty big deal) adds some flavor to it. Plus, Ann telling Ben that their whole thing is so prom is pretty fun and Ben’s reaction is sweet. There is, of course, reconciliation between the pair, and it’s a reminder that while Ann is occasionally superfluous in the show when on her own, her relationship with Leslie is one of the bedrocks of the series, and it’s always nice to see the show play off of that.

[7.3/10] The Eagleton part of this episode doesn’t do it for me. I’m all for a slobs vs. snobs story, especially one built on Leslie feeling betrayed by a former friend, but all of the Eagleton stuff is just too cartoony. Everything from public forums with giftbaskets to a pink and purple jail with scones to Leslie’s frenemy Lindsey herself are just too exaggerated to make this conflict feel real and not just a bit of ridiculousness. It turns the “good town vs. bad town” dynamic into something that feels like it’s out of an 80’s cartoon.

Still, I appreciate the tack that it’s founded on Leslie thinking Lindsey was on her side, and that she feels hurt by the broken promise and backs turned on Pawnee itself as much as she’s upset with Lindsey individually. The whiffle ball feel is a nice twist to resolve the fence issue, and Leslie being the bigger person is a nice character beat.

What really sells this one though, is the B-story, where Leslie figures out Ron’s birthday and Ron goes nuts (in true Ron fashion) worrying about what public, showy thing Leslie is going to do to celebrate. I love the way everyone gets a turn with him, from April messing with him at Leslie’s prompting, to Andy inadvertently dropping hints about a kidnapping, to Ann scaring him with stories of bounce houses and hoopla, to Chris straight up kissing him on the mouth. Ron’s increasing paranoia, and his reactions to all of this are outstanding, and it’s great acting from Nick Offerman, who really sells Ron’s disgust and fear at all of this.

The finish, however, is beautiful. Leslie providing steak, scotch, old movies, and solitude is the perfect Ron Swanson birthday party. And the fact that it ties into their relationship and the Eagleton story is great writing. Ron knows Leslie and Leslie knows Ron, and that means that Leslie knows how to give Ron the sort of celebration he’d enjoy, and Ron knows Leslie’s the kind of person who’d make her hometown better. It’s a great testament to what is arguably the show’s core relationship.

The Eagleton stuff gets a bit too out of hand for my tastes, but that still makes this one a keeper.

[8.8/10] This is one of those Parks and Rec episodes that gets a little goofy, but which grounds that goofiness in character and relationships and solid comedy apart from it that makes it more than just the sum of its wacky gags. The idea of a big painting of Leslie as a topless centaur (replete with Tom as a pudgy cherub) is pretty silly stuff, but couching it in the fact that Leslie feels powerless with the Department’s no dating rule, and that goofy or not, this painting empowers her, gives the story a little more juice.

Of course, the uber-conservative person who wants it burned is a little broad (and she recurs, unless I’m conflating her with someone else) but Leslie’s defense of the painting comes from who she is and why she admired it. Little touches like her adopting the hairstyle from the painting or Chris’s very proper, positive anger, or her being further empowered by a pep talk from Jerry of all people are nice too. And her solution, while a little improbable on short notice, is a well-done subtle jab at the double standard about shirtlessness.
Plus, it gives us some nice Ben/Leslie flirtation moments. Ben looking at the painting is kind of adorable.

That leads us to the B-story, where Ben moves in with April and Andy, and the odd couple business is taken to an extreme. Ben makes for such a great exasperated straight man, and his bewilderment (a.) how April and Andy live, (b.) their complete inability to act like adults, and (c.) how far into the pit of non-adulthood they’ve fallen, is an endless font of comedy here.

But it’s also grounded in character. April worrying that they’ll become to adult-y and boring, and Andy reassuring her to the contrary is sweet but very much who they are. And getting dishes in addition to a marshmallow gun (whose use is a comedic highlight) shows the way that they’re still the goofy kids they were before, but the bowl and spoon (instead of a Frisbee and a singular fork) is a sign of progress.

Overall, it’s a fun episode that takes out there or sitcommy situations and elevates them due to connecting them to the well-sketched characters on the show.

(Plus, Ron’s speech at the art thing is awesome!)

Love this episode. The twin storylines in this episode, featuring Leslie/Tom on the one hand and Ron/Chris/Andy/April on the other hand are each so brilliant and charming. To start with the A story, Leslie tries her hand at online dating after a particularly distressing experience with Sewage Joe (great to see these wonderful side characters pop up every now and then. More on that in the next episode too), fearing that she seems to keep landing sleazy guys and to her great horror, she finds herself a soulmate match with none other than Tom Haverford.

I've made it clear in the past that I think Tom is, among the main cast of characters, the most problematic so it says something when this A-story not only works but is hilarious start to finish and this is one of Aziz's finest outings yet as he really shines here comedically speaking. There's not too much more than him teasing and humiliating Leslie at every possible turn once he finds out that they were paired up by an online dating site and yet, it's so entertaining to watch because the episode completely embraces all of Tom's worst qualities, plays it for every ounce of comedy and at the same time, transfers the audience's total sympathy onto Leslie.

The B-story features a grilling competition between health conscious Chris and meat loving Ron. In the previous episode, there was a great moment of tension when Chris showed up to the "dinner party" with a vegetable loaf for a cake much to Ron's chagrin. So, in a way, one can almost view it as a continuity of an ongoing tension. Anyways, this storyline is absolutely fantastic too. The highlights are the visits the group make to firstly, Grain N Simple and secondly, Ron's favourite store, the Food N Stuff. The Grain N Simple scene really gets the most out of the dynamics at play between Chris/Andy on the one hand and April/Ron on the other. The hippie by the food barrel and the vegan food sample moments are highlights, as is Andy emptying a container of grain and Chris immediately walking away inconspicuously.

It's also nice to see another appearance by Kyle, who we find out is someone that even Jerry picks on. It's amusing to see the ladder if you will extended by another rung and who knows, perhaps Kyle has his own punching bag.

[9.4/10] This was the first Parks and Rec I ever watched, and it’s not hard to see why it led to my interest in the show. It does a great job at introducing most of the characters and their dynamics, both the A-story and the B-story work like gangbusters, and it’s truly hilarious.

Let’s start with the B-story. Ron and Chris having a cook off to decide whether beef hamburgers stay in the commissary is a fairly sitcom setup, but the war of culinary ideologies takes on such comedic force with its two champions. Chris’s boundless positivity, coupled with Andy’s doltish charm makes for a great deal of fun around the office and the Whole Foods knockoff where they shop. Ron’s matter-of-fact demeanor (aided by April’s flat affect) makes for a nice contrast, and the revelation of Food-N-Stuff is a hoot. Ron prevailing despite Chris’s attention to detail is a nice resolution (with Donna, Jerry, and Kyle as judges) and the whole enterprise is a lot of fun.

The A-story is great too. The notion of Leslie feeling like she only gets attention from sleazy guys – the peak of this being matched up with Tom on an online dating site – is a nice premise. It gives her time for some good heart-to-hearts with Ann, some hint-worthy interactions with Ben, and a great little bit with Tom. Her lunch with him, followed by his asshole behavior, is great comedy, both in terms of Leslie’s bewilderment that anyone could think like Tom does and then her frustration at his idiocy when he thinks she likes him. The fact that a kiss is what shuts him up (followed with a perfect retort of “you should be so lucky”) is brilliant stuff.

And it dovetails nicely with the path toward Ben and Leslie’s attraction being fulfilled. The whole wildflower bit is a little easy, but it’s still a nice way to dramatize the way that they think alike and are well-suited for one another.

Plus it’s just such a hilarious episode all around. Tom’s nicknames for various food-related items is a great sequence. The tag with Donna shutting up Tom by kissing him too is great. The guy from sanitation is pitch-perfect in his skeeviness. And Ron’s “nature is amazing” scene with the hippie at the store is silly but hilarious stuff.

Overall, this is a great episode to introduce someone to the show. It has something for all the major characters to do; it has simple but effective plots, and it’s damn funny in the process.

[9/5/10] Leslie Knope is a problem solver. She has thoroughly demonstrated that with her boundless energy, her wits, and her persistence, she can tackle anything – anything, that is, sans the slippery, insane logic of April and Andy. And that’s why I love this episode.

I’m not sure if I agree with Ron’s message at the end of the episode – that you find someone you like and roll the dice, at least to the point of marrying somebody after dating them for a month (man, could that have led me to some trouble or misery) – but I definitely love his point that it wasn’t a problem Leslie would be able to solve. April and Andy are who they are, and were going to do what they were going to do, all she could do was stand by and try to appreciate it.

Then, by god, Leslie actually takes something from the behavior of Andy and April. Ever hesitant about her growing attraction to Ben, she tells him to stay in Pawnee and take the job Chris offered him, after waffling early and ending with a handshake. It’s an arc for Leslie – learning to be a bit more willing to go after what she wants in her personal life the same way she is in her professional life – and it lands with a great deal of force.

Plus, you know, April and Andy get married! A surprise wedding is so absolutely them, and it’s done in such a ramshackle, “never give up, never think things through” spirit that it’s absolutely adorable. Chris Pratt has become a superstar now, and it’s not hard to see his talents as an actor beyond the big goofy puppy he plays. When he looks at April, there is such love and joy in his eyes that it absolutely sells the moment. (That and Paul Simon’s song.) For her part, Aubrey Plaza shows the joy and affection that pierces through her typical sullen demeanor. It is as affecting as it is ridiculous.

What’s more, there are so many wonderful little touches and details at the margins. Orin is done perfectly (as his conversation with Chris). April’s gay boyfriends throw flower petals. Andy gives a completely Andy speech about defending April and April gives a completely April speech about hating most things but not him. Jerry has a “party shirt”! Chris does a wacky dance! Some guy can’t remember that April just got married and asks Ben if she’s available! It’s all just so hilarious and well-crafted.

The piece de resistance is April telling Leslie that she admires and respects her. It’s a touching moment, and Leslie’s simple “oh” in response is perfect. Amy Poehler is an amazing actress here, and the way she goes from frustration to acceptance to downright melting with all of this stuff is wonderful.

Even the C-stories are great. Tom asking to be a best man and then feeling stymied as the position gets more and more watered down, only to get a shout out and endorsement at the end is slight but amusing. And even Ann’s love life, which hasn’t been my favorite part of this season, is made fun and amusing with Donna to lead the charge and coach her up.

Overall, it’s one of Parks and Rec’s finest episodes, that is true to the characters and their lunacy, but which shows enough growth and sweetness to make it stand out.

This episode is a default winner of my heart just because this is the episode where Andy and April get married. It's done in the perfect, carefree, beautiful, true-to-character fashion and in doing so, completely overrides every single cliche in this popular sitcom trope storyline. It's a perfect representation of who April and Andy are, as people first and as lovers second and it manages to wring out so much affecting drama within a single episode and makes the episode so much more than a wedding episode.

Andy and April have a surprise in store for everyone who attends their dinner party: they are not at a dinner party but in fact, their wedding. While everyone at the party seems genuinely happy for them, Leslie has second thoughts on it all and fears that two people who are very close to her may just be making a tumultuous mistake in their early lives. By the ending of this episode, it's clear that while she is moved by the simple but sweet nature of their wedding ceremony and their pure love for one another, she continues to have her fears that an impulse decision could spell trouble in the future. That's one of the greatest things about this episode, maybe one of the greatest of the series. Things do not necessarily wrap up in a neat little bow and it's thematically, all the more powerful for it.

Leslie is just so perfect in this episode. While Ron tells her that it isn't her place to try and correct April and Andy, she tries nonetheless even if she does not actively try and stop the wedding. Amy Poehler is absolutely sensational in this role and she manages to take the script and wring out every bit of humour while capturing the nuances of the drama too. Her performance during the wedding is absolutely fantastic because it captures both a joy and a disappointment and Amy Poehler has gotten to a point with this show where it's sailed way past Leslie being a Michael Scott copy.

April and Andy are probably one of my favourite television couples and I'm not one to generally focus too much or even care too much about television romances because I find most of them, in the sitcom format, tend to run stale at a point. I feel that way about Jim and Pam for example but April and Andy are an exception because they are exceptional circumstances for characters. In a show full of eccentric and wacky personalities, they might just be the two wackiest. The generally apathetic April and the goofball Andy to vaguely characterize them seem to find pure content in each other and the chemistry between Aubrey Plaza and Chris Pratt is so strong that they capture so flawlessly this oddball love their characters have for one another.

Everything else in this episode is perfect to my eyes too. The introduction of Orin, onscreen at least (previously Leslie voiced her disapproval to April regarding Orin being her friend) is amazing and another reminder or indicator of the sheer number of great side characters the show was able to squeeze out over the years. The interactions that Ben and Chris have with the character are hilarious in the sheer contrast in their attitudes. Ben is terrified of Orin (one of my favourite moments is the "are you asking me or telling me?" bit) whereas Chris terrifies Orin with his positive outlook on life!

I love seeing Jean Ralphio again and the sheer sleaze and arrogance he brings with him is brilliant. The very brief scene he has here provides plenty of laughs. It's also great to see April's parents and her sister again and the utterly apathetic speech she makes after the wedding and turning April into tears are just other lovely touches to this episode.

I love Ron's simple but profound interactions at the wedding. He first tells Leslie that it's not in her place to stop their wedding and after the ceremony, tells Leslie that the reason she didn't do anything drastic was because she knew it would be futile to stop those crazy kids. The dance between April and Ron is perfectly awkward and really highlights a relationship that is very strong with the show. It's so beautiful.

Elsewhere, Ann is trying to hit on guys to little success. There she sees Donna, who initially warns her off but upon seeing how helpless she is, coaches her in the dating world. As Andrew says in his review, I don't feel too strongly with Ann's love life on the show but a storyline like this really brings out some levity and humour out of that situation. Donna is particularly brilliant in this episode.

Simply, I love, love, love this episode. Virtually any episode that focuses heavily on April and Andy will at least leave me happy and at its best, like here, feels like transcendent television. The simplest of wedding gestures here is more powerful than the many grand weddings we've seen in other sitcoms. It is so true to the characters and it could never have worked in any other way.

"Will they kill me, do you think?"

Don't go into 'Spencer' expecting an ordinary little biopic about Princess Diana. Nope, this is a straight up psychological art house horror thriller. 'Spencer' brilliantly captures the feeling of dread in an isolated foreign space surround by strangers. The royal family themselves are freaking creepy, always watching, always judging.

I must be honest, I wasn't a big fan of Kristen Stewart's recent work, as it never wowed me, and I wasn't convinced that she's improved since Twilight. But man, she's fantastic in this movie and it's one of her best performances to date. Stewart manages to portray Princess Diana in a new light that we haven't really seen before. In my opinion, her other movies failed to show her versatility as an actor, where I fully believe this movie did her justice. I'm just glad this movie won me over.

On the other hand, Timothy Spall is excellent in this movie, and another stand out performance. If you are aware of Spall as an actor, then this isn't surprising news, but I feel it needs repeating. I found him very eerie and overbearing. He plays a man with an eagle eye; he watches everything and everyone in the royal family at Sandringham House.

The major thing that this movie made me realise is that in Diana's life it's the people that kept her mentally and emotionally grounded. Her two sons, her assistant (Sally Hawkins, who is very good in the small scenes she has), and the chef played by Sean Harris, who is someone you would not think of being important.

Sean Harris is a very underrated actor that I wished people talked about more. Harris is known for playing sinister roles, but here I thought he was really sweet and shows a softer side. He's got an interesting sounding voice as well. Jack Farthing as Prince Charles does a great job playing a slimy over-privileged **** Stella Gonet as the Queen who I found really unsettling, especially her dagger eyes.

There's one scene at the dinner table with the other royal family that is one of the most intense things ever. It was anxiety level stress that made my heart racing. All thanks to Pablo Larraín claustrophobic and unique directing. Complimented by Johnny Greenwood's atmospheric, free flowing and tense score.

While I know that certain elements of the movie are fiction, but then again, the movie begins with a title card "based on a tragic fable" and I feel like the movie is playing into the nightmarish fair tale of an iconic figure in history. Diana's life in royalty was no fairy tale, but a Brothers Grimm tale.

Overall rating: The movie has metaphors to ghost, ghost of the past, ghost of old tradition. People who follow tradition isn't too kind to rarity. Great movie.

[9.8/10] What an episode! It's hard to imagine an hour of television that could draw out the differences between Jimmy and Kim better than this one.

In the wake of Howard's death and all the sins she committed and enabled, Kim numbs herself in a colorless world of banal conversations and empty experiences. Everything about her day-to-date life is colorless and dull, resigning herself to a sort of limbo as both penance and protection from inflicting anymore wrongs on the world. And even there, she won't make any decisions, offer any opinions, as though she's afraid that making any choice will lead her down another bad road.

Until Gene intervenes, balks at her command to turn himself in, and tells her to do that if she's so affronted by what they did. And holy hell, she does! If there was ever an indicator of moral fortitude in the Gilliverse, it's that. The courage of your convictions it takes to have gotten away with it, lived years away from the worst things you've ever done, and still choose to return to the place where it happened and accept your punishment, legal, moral, or otherwise, is absolutely incredible. Rhea Seehorn kills it, especially as Kim comes crumbling apart on an airport shuttle, amid all the hard truths she set aside for so long coming back in one painful rush. It's a tribute to Seehorn, and to Kim, how pained and righteous Kim seems in willfully choosing to confess and suffer whatever fate comes down, unlike anyone else in Better Call Saul or Breaking Bad.

It makes her the polar opposite of Gene, who finds new depths of terribleness as the noose tightens around him. As he continues the robbery of the cancer-stricken man whose house he broke into in the last episode, he finds new lows. Even when this risky excess has worked out for him, he pushes things even further by stealing more luxury goods as time runs out. He nearly smashes in the guy's skull with an urn for his own dead pet. He bails on Jeff. And when Marion finds him out, he advances on her with such a physical threat, a dark echo of the kindness to senior citizens that once defined his legal career.

The contrast is clear. Kim will turn herself in even when she doesn't have to and has excuses and justifications she could offer. Gene resorts to ever more cruelty, fraud, and craven self-interest to save himself from facing any of the consequences he so richly deserves. Kim is right to tell Jesse Pinkman that Saul used to be good, when she knew him. The two of them will understand better than anyone else in this universe what it's like to attach yourself to someone who sheds everything that made them a decent human being. Jimmy lost the part of himself that was good, or kind, or noble, even amid his cons. But Kim held onto her moral convictions, and it's what makes her not just Jimmy's foil, but the honorable counterpoint to the awful person he became.

EDIT: Here's a link to my usual more in-depth review of the episode if anyone's interested -- https://thespool.net/reviews/better-call-saul-season-6-episode-12-recap/

[7.5/10] I wondered to myself, what was the point of those Breaking Bad flashbacks. Sure, it's cool to see Walt and Jesse and the RV and even the flat bottom flask again. But I was ready to write off the trip back to Saul's first meeting with the meth-dealers in season 2 of Breaking Bad as simple fan service.

It took the scene with Mike for me to get it. The point, at least on my read, is a theme that Better Call Saul has hit time and again -- Saul can't leave well enough alone. He won't listen to Mike that this chemistry teacher is a rank amateur who's going to end up with a dark result. And Gene won't listen to Jeff or his friend who warn that it's a bad idea to darken the doorstep of another poor man stricken with cancer.

We know how things end for Saul in Breaking Bad. The choice to throw in with Walter White rather than be satisfied with his rewarding, if not exactly classy law practice ultimately ruins him, and takes away everything he'd achieved in the years before and after the events of this series. The choice to cast aside any moral hesitation and callously rob a dying man of his finances, to push the bounds of the pragmatic given how long it takes between when they dosed the guy and when Gene tries to complete the deed, will almost certainly lead to a similarly bad end.

Yes, it's neat to flashback and see some of the old faces from Breaking Bad again. It's cool to learn that Huell made it out and see Francesca get one last payday. But the takeaway is simple. Saul lost everything. He has no more fortune or empire. The cops are still after him. His former allies are either dead or have moved on. And even Kim, who asked about him, seems to want nothing to do with him anymore, via a tantalizingly opaque phone call between her and Gene.

So left with no other options, Gene makes the same choice that Slippin' Jimmy did over and over again. He goes back to running scams. He can't leave well enough alone. He does it without any joy, because he's not doing this out of pleasure. He's doing it out of desperation, addition, sadness, and loneliness. He is scraping the last bit of thrill from the bottom of the jar, and if his star-crossed visit to Walter White is any indication, it's likely to be the last step in his sad, pitiable, but always avoidable fall from grace.

EDIT: Here's my usual, more fulsome review for anyone who's interested -- https://thespool.net/reviews/tv/tv-recap-better-call-saul-season-6-episode-11/

[8.0/10] I am amazed that Better Call Saul can still be this tense, and this much fun, when there's nothing that big at stake. Yes, Cinnabon Gene still needs to protect his identity, and things could go terribly wrong if Frank the security guard found out about his involvement in this crime. But by god, at heart, this is just about stealing a minor pile of fancy-ish clothes from a Nebraska department store, and somehow it's still a total thrillride.

I think it speaks to how perfectly the show's creative team knows what they're doing at this late hour. They could make pretty much anything simultaneously exciting and meaningful. There is some inherent juice to the fact that this is the first time we've gotten a full-blown Gene Takovic episode. And it does tie off a few loose ends from the show like the cab driver who identified him as Saul or the security guard whose shoplifting bust he disrupted. But for the most part, this is just a heist for the sake of heist, to show that even so far removed when when we left him in the past and even in Breaking Bad, Jimmy's still got it.

There's a few points of real meaning and resonance though. For one, I believe Jimmy when he talks to Frank (Jerry from Parks and Rec!) about how alone he is. He's using that sad truth to manipulate someone, but I think it's genuinely how he feels, and Jimmy has a history of using real feelings for false purposes. It's underscored by the fact that the title of the episode is just one word, not "____ and ____" like every other title this season. It's a formal way to show that after so long having Kim as a partner, Jimmy is alone.

I'm also struck by the fact that he basically dresses down Jeff and his other accomplice much the same way Mike did to him in "Point and Shoot", right down to him having the other schmucks repeat his line to make sure they understand. Jimmy is still a pro, even if he's been out of the game this long. And despite the fact that he seems to take such joy in the action, he's able to put the loud shirt and louder tie back on the rack at the end of the episode. Jimmy's never been able to stop himself, but after all of this, maybe he's finally got a hold of himself.

There's still three episodes to go, and almost limitless possibilities for where the series could go from here. But it seems like Jimmy has found a tiny bit of peace and security after one last heist, at least for the time being. It's amazing that after all this drama and all this death, something so comparatively low stakes can still be such a thrill.

EDIT: Here's a link to my usual, longer review in case anyone's interested -- https://thespool.net/reviews/tv-recap-better-call-saul-season-6-episode-10/

I'm just, wow. I don't really know how to say it and probably there are people out there that already write about this episode better than me, but, holy shit right in the gut. The song before Rebecca got her diagnosis was spot on, and I just, sometimes angry with people that say "You don't need labels honey" like, no. I want to know who else have the same labels like me so I can share my story with them so that I can have someone THAT ACTUALLY going through stuff like me. To finally found someone that says "oh wow, yeah, that's just like me dude", it's priceless, that kind of feeling

And also the stuff with Valencia, I was afraid that she's gonna turn back into her S1 self, but after we learned what really happened, man, it broke my heart. The way Rebecca said that she can't promise it to Valencia, and even herself, that was real. I just, Rachel Bloom keep saying this show isn't that meta, but fuck man, that was real. Because you know if this is another show, Rebecca would say that she promise not to kill herself and then they have a group hug, and "happily ever after". But here, it's not like that. It's constant battle, and it's what makes this show fucking awesome

[8.4/10] I'd speculated about how Kim would depart Jimmy's world. I feared she might be killed. I thought she'd get fed up with his misdeeds and leave him over that. What I didn't expect was that it would be spurred by a moment of self-recognition born of a terrible tragedy. Kim still loves Jimmy, but she recognizes that they're "poison" together, that they get off on the joint cons, and that when they do, people get hurt. She is one of the vanishingly small number of people in this franchise to recognize that she's on a destructive path and take drastic action to stop it. It's one of the most unexpected, but ultimately satisfying ways to have her exit I can imagine.

And it puts her in good company. Jimmy is as horrified by what happened as Kim is, but he can envision moving on, he can picture maintaining this life despite where it led them, he can see forgetting this some day. Kim can't. It's the same way Gus cannot forget his former partner Max, someone he loves, whose memory lingers with him when he gazes into Don Eladio's pool and holds him back from continuing to flirt with the handsome waiter who chats him up over a glass of a wine. It's the same way Mike cannot forget his son, which leads him to tell Nacho's father the truth about what happened to his child.

Mr. Varga shrugs off Mike's promise that justice will be done, recognizing that what he's talking about is vengeance. He declares that vengeance is a cycle that doesn't stop, and we know from Breaking Bad that he's right. Gus hasn't beaten the Salamancas or Don Eladio. Mike hasn't completed his tour of duty so that he can retire and spend time with his granddaughter. Jimmy can't avoid crossing paths with the cartel again. They're all in this now, and their victories bring them no peace, only pull them deeper into the muck of this, and closer to their ignoble ends.

But Kim breaks away. She cannot forget, but she can act to stop this from happening again. Her final scene with Jimmy (for now at least) is more quietly heartbreaking than explosive and dramatic, but that suits the gravity of this. And in her absence, Jimmy is free to become Saul, as an indeterminate time jump to the man in his huckster faux-finery confirms. The last thing holding Jimmy back is gone. Saul Goodman is here. He can't stop. And despite the woman in his bed, the bedraggled secretary on his phone, and the crowd of people in his waiting room, he is alone.

EDIT: If you'd like to read my usual, longer review, you can find it here -- https://thespool.net/reviews/tv-recap-better-call-saul-season-6-episode-9/

[9.0/10[ An incredibly tense hour of television. What's so impressive is that Better Call Saul accomplished this despite us knowing that, of course, Jimmy and Gus both survive. It comes down to such fantastic performances from everyone involved. You immediately buy how shaken and terrified Jimmy and Kim are, and how frightened even the normally steady Gus is at the point of Lalo's gun. Vince Gilligan's direction is outstanding, with a Hitchcockian flair for light and shadow that sets the foreboding mood of all these set pieces. And the score does the rest, helping the audience to feel the emotion of these scenes even if we rationally know the fates of several of those at the most risk.

My only mild beef is that Gus' survival feels like a bit of a cheat. It's still not clear to me why he did the gun in the superlab, and the dialogue kind of shrugs at the idea. Even in the dark, it seems like Lalo would have done better against Fring than he did. But details like Fring seeming to make one last desperate ploy to survive, still suffering wounds despite his body armor, and admitting he was over his skiis with this whole thing in the end helps make it passable. On a moment-to-moment basis, the scenes absolutely work, which covers for a lot.

What struck me the most is that closing image -- Howard and Lalo, two very different men, sharing the same fate and the same grave. It's a sign that the barrier between Jimmy's legal life and Saul's criminal life has been firmly shattered. Both lives, both worlds, are bound up in these deaths now, with the psychic weight hanging over Jimmy and Kim for the last five episodes. This never happened, but they, and Mike, will all still have to live with it. I can't wait to see how.

EDIT: If you'd like to read my usual, longer review of the episode, you can find it here -- https://thespool.net/reviews/tv-recap-better-call-saul-season-6-episode-8/

[8.3/10] I kept waiting for it all to go wrong somehow. Things don’t simply “work out” in the world of Better Call Saul. This show is a tragedy, after all. People succeed, but only at a cost. There’s always some unexpected wrinkle, some unforeseen consequence, that makes victory more complicated and bittersweet than anyone on either side of the screen imagined.
Time and again, season 6 presented the plans of Jimmy (Bob Odenkirk) and Kim(Rhea Seehorn) as nearly falling into ruin. If Howard (Patrick Fabian) spots his erstwhile foe in the country club locker room, if a valet walks a step quicker, if Jimmy can’t summon the strength to move a parking sign, the whole scheme falls apart. With each step, they were this close to being discovered. Every time they flirted with disaster. Surely their luck couldn’t last forever.

For its part, “Plan and Execution”, the midseason finale, gives the two of them one last hurdle to leap over. As established in the previous episode, the Sandpiper mediator unexpectedly wears a cast, screwing up their whole plan to stage photos where it looks like he’s taking a bribe from Saul. Now, Kim and Jimmy have to scramble to reassemble their team and restage the pictures, with the ticking clock of the impending mediation to add to the pressure.

By god, it’s fun! If you step back and look at Kim and Jimmy’s trickery, it’s easy to see how they’re destroying someone’s life for thin reasons. However much Howard may deserve some comeuppance for his own misdeeds, this is, at a minimum, disproportionate retribution. But competence in stories is thrilling and competence with flair is captivating. What Jimmy and Kim do isn’t good; but good lord are they good at what they do.

Jimmy persuades his actor to do the job via a stirring speech about the love of performance. His director parlays the “emergency” into more cash in a canny fashion. His make-up artist is dressed up like a Gelfling but no less dedicated to her craft. His boom operator rushes to the scene with the proper equipment in tow. Kim herself fashions a makeshift cast (who would know better?) and races, shoeless, to adjust the blocking for the “scene.” These are pros working their magic in a crunch, and the delight of seeing them work is only matched by the underhandedness of their deeds.

The pièce de résistance comes when the episodes reveals that Howard’s private eye is in on the deal. The ploy of switching the phone number for Howard’s usual detectives is a little convenient. But it adds one more flourish to the scheme: a chance for the P.I. to seed the misleading photos, for Kim and Jimmy to lace them with the drug that will mess with Howard’s head (and, importantly, his eyes), and have their inside man switch them out with some phonies to make Hamlin look like a clown.

It’s the perfect crime. And the last minute change in plans, forcing our would-be heroes to scramble to overcome one more monkey wrench thrown into the proceedings, only shows how brilliant they are at this sort of thing.

So something else has to go wrong, right? Maybe the AV kids realize something’s amiss and decide to call the cops. Maybe poor Irene, the class representative who Jimmy originally recruited, comes into contact with the chemical agent intended for Howard and faints in the middle of the mediation. There have to be complications, unforeseen problems, something to show that for all their skill, all their talent, Kim and Jimmy are flying too close to the sun here.

There aren’t, though. The plan goes off without a hitch. Howard becomes unhinged the second he sees the mediator and makes the connection to the bribe photos. He rants to all involved about how Saul clearly set him up. His pupils are dilated as he cuts the image of someone unwell. He raves like a madman, sounding paranoid, delusional, yelling at strangers about a conspiracy whose only proof is pictures of Jimmy returning some jogger’s frisbee. This is it. This is Jimmy and Kim’s con artist masterpiece.

The mediator walks. The other side lowers their offer, smelling blood in the water. And Clifford Main (Ed Begley Jr.) has no choice but to blink. Maybe he believes Howard. Maybe he can envision a world where his longtime colleague is telling the truth, and the former employee who once bilked his firm out of a signing bonus is devilish enough to orchestrate all of this.

But at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. Because Jimmy and Kim want their money and their revenge. Howard wants to do anything to prevent Saul from winning. But Cliff, the most decent man in this universe, only wants to do what’s best for their clients. That means salvaging what he can from this disaster, avoiding the shaky uncertainties that lie ahead, and taking the offer.

It worked, by god. Kim and Jimmy’s plan worked and worked perfectly. It may have cost Kim her chance to supercharge the pro bono practice that supposedly motivated all of this, but at the end of the day, their plan went off without a hitch. As Kim’s mother might say, they got away with it.

The same can’t be said for Lalo (Tony Dalton). He’s had preternatural success to this point. The cunning drug lord tracked down Margarethe Ziegler. He found one of Werner’s “boys.” He uncovered the location of Gus’ (Giancarlo Esposito) superlab. But to this point, he has no proof. “The Chicken Man” is too good at covering his tracks. Instead, all Lalo can muster is a video intended for Don Eladio, spelling out his theory, and a plan to murder Fring’s guards to secure the evidence he needs to support it. It’s a hard-fought plan, one born of sleeping in cars and lurking in the sewers until the time is right.

Except he slips up. He calls Hector (Mark Margolis), maybe to say goodbye in case things go wrong, maybe just to make his uncle proud before he dives into a dangerous situation. But Mike (Jonathan Banks) has tapped the nursing home’s phones, and now Fring’s men know Lalo’s back. The full court press surveillance worked. Unlike Saul’s scheme, Lalo’s plan ran aground on his opponent’s defenses.

The catch is that Lalo is as clever and resourceful as Jimmy and Kim are. Realizing he’s been foiled, he calls his uncle back and declares it’s time to go back to Plan A -- a thinly veiled threat on Gus’ life. He knows Mike will hear it, that Fring will respond, and that the security apparatus will shift. So much of the conflict between Lalo and Gus is a game of chess. Fring’s operation makes a move, and the Salamancas respond in kind. Lalo’s remaining moves are dwindling, but it’s not a checkmate just yet.

The game is done for Jimmy and Kim, though. They relax at home with a bottle of wine and an old movie. No more marks left to fool. No more schemes left to deploy. Only a bit of clean-up left. Howard shows up to congratulate and confront them, and they dutifully permit it. At this point, he cannot win. They’ve seen to that, and he knows it.

His earlier parable about Chuck’s habit with soft drink cans speaks to a sort of vigilance the elder McGill brother internalized. It’s the kind that presumably helped him fend off prankster younger siblings who’d shake up sodas to get one over on their big brothers, the sort that Howard sorely wishes he’d adopted. Hamlin can’t win anymore. But he can dress Jimmy and Kim down for their misdeeds, speak to the rot in the soul that would allow them to justify such an elaborate and immoral act, and try to make it harder to live with.

Howard isn’t wrong. The audience is inclined to side with Jimmy and Kim here. They are our protagonists. They work together and love one another. They’re damn fun to watch in every scheme and scam. They work meticulously to win the day and plan for every eventuality. As their own victim highlights, they rose from humble circumstances while Hamlin had a leg up from his father. Howard’s done crappy things to both of them. The couple is entitled to some righteous indignation.

What’s more, television shows are more fun when the main characters achieve what they set out to do. There’s a natural tendency to root for perspective characters, to hope they’ll see things through, even if deep down we know it’s wrong.

Nevertheless, Howard speaks the truth. Jimmy could have taken a different path, but he was born to color outside the lines. Kim is a person of incredible talent and potential, who uses those attributes to aid those who need it most and to wreak vengeance upon the people who’ve wronged her. They do get off on this, with their sultry celebration during the announcement of the settlement as the latest example. Hamlin has lost, but he diagnoses them to a tee. He draws into stark relief how they ruined a man’s life -- a man who has his own sins to answer for but is still struggling and sympathetic -- and how they’ll have no trouble sleeping at night.

Or at least they don’t betray one iota of regret. Howard points out that they have to play it that way, to feign ignorance and innocence. But they’re both consummate actors, unbothered by the routine, barely suggesting a whit of remorse for their actions. In their eyes, this is karma. This is reaping what you’ve sewn. This is a game to them.

Until it isn’t.

It’s just a wisp at first. A wick bends. The flame flickers. Something is coming. Writer-director Thomas Schnauz and his team deploy the suspense masterfully. The way the mood suddenly shifts is brilliant. Those subtle hints pile up, until the expressions on Kim and Jimmy’s faces tell the tale. They’re no longer gently asking Howard to leave because they’re done with him. They’re imploring him to go for his own safety. Lalo has arrived.

The twist is fabulous. Lalo’s call to Hector was not a means to smoke out Fring or lighten security at the superlab. He knew it would prompt Mike to circle the wagons and pull security away from tertiary targets like Saul, leaving him and Kim exposed and vulnerable. There’s more than one way to get to Gus and, backed into a corner, Lalo found another one.

It’s a spectacularly terrifying scene: the way he emerges from the shadows, the way he’s unnervingly calm despite his overwhelming menace, the way his “lawyers” desperately beg the man who was, just a minute ago, their worst enemy, to get out now if he wants to save himself.

Only It’s too late. The shock arrives as Lalo grows tired of waiting, of tolerating potential witnesses, and puts a bullet through a well-coiffed stranger’s skull once he’s fully diagnosed the shared pathology of his antagonizers. This is the worst day of Howard Hamlin’s life, and also the last day. Holy hell.

There it is. There is where things go wrong. There is the cost for taking things too far and tiptoeing too close to danger and disaster. Better Call Saul is a show that, commendably, zigs when viewers expect it to zag. It doesn’t traffic in twists for the sake of twists. The surprises are earned and the natural consequences of the characters’ actions, rooted in what will affect them most.

The recompense for so many risky ploys to sully a man’s career and reputation is not that the scheme ultimately falls apart or exposes Kim and Jimmy instead. It’s that it crashes into their earlier grand scheme, the source of their blood money, that quickly becomes that much bloodier. There is great surprise, rich irony, and dark poetry in that.

Six episodes remain of Better Call Saul, half a dozen more outings to firmly and finally resolve how what’s left of the life of Jimmy McGill runs headlong into the life of Saul Goodman. In the moment when the barriers between those two personas tumbles down for good, there lies a firm reminder. The “magic man”, whom viewers know and love from his entertaining skullduggery on Breaking Bad, arrived at that colorful existence from a soul-shaking path -- one that always comes with a trade-off, a complication, and a price

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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