That really was a great series finale. It was in a different tone as the rest of the series, but with lots of bits of callbacks. I'm particularly glad that the show has wrapped up peacefully without being randomly cancelled in the middle of nowhere.
I was super skeptical how they were going to bring Cary and Brooke back down to Earth in a single episode, but this season finale offered a fantastic amount of closure for both of them:
I liked that Cary reached rock bottom and finally got a much needed reality check. And the reconciliation with Curtis was great and realistic, it validates Curtis's feelings and mistrust in Cary while also giving us a hopeful ending.
The Brooke storyline ended perfectly. It was great that she sacrificed herself for her family. I also appreciated the developments of Lance - him being a little less pure was actually a good choice, and he isn’t fully innocent in their relationship failing. "So it's good... to be bad? (Brooke looks at the camera)" - I loved the post credit scene with Brooke, breaking the 4th wall done good.
I like Pat wanting go get dinner with her kids. Such a throwback. Also, I like how they wrapped up the Lucas storyline cleanly too.
The Other Two is one of the best satires poking fun at the real life absurdity of the entertainment industry. I'll miss this show and its unique humor. Definitely one of the funniest shows ever made
"Is it...terrifying?"
"No. I don't think so. It's the way it is, you know? Everything must come to an end, the drip finally stops."
"...See you on the other side."
"Oh Bojack, no. There is no other side. This is it."
I don't really know what to say about this show. I'm gonna try, anyway.
This is one of the most hilarious and most depressing things ever. You want to call it a comedy, because of the witty and funny dialogue, but you can't, because each episode has one idea, one subtle but major lesson for the viewers. Maybe it's a brilliantly constructed campaign for feminism, maybe it is a brilliant look at dementia, or suicide, or drinking. There is always a constant though - it is brilliant.
One of the biggest standouts for this show is its characters. Just the five main characters are some of the best I've ever seen - Todd, Princess Carolyn, Mr Peanutbutter, Diane and of course, Bojack Horseman. All five are broken in some way (some much more in others), and it's so engaging to watch how these people deal with highs, lows, and how they change/don't change. Bojack Horseman himself is hands down the most interesting character I've ever seen in television - you can't agree with his actions, and you want to hate him for his worst moments, but you can't help but root for him and his ability to change. And he does - and doesn't.
While the first six episodes aren't that great, the rest of the series (and I mean the rest) is absolutely the best stuff out there. In my opinion, the seventh episode is where things really start, and if you watch the eighth episode, The Telescope, and you still don't like this series, then this probably isn't your thing.
If you are willing to watch through some of the most depressing, yet astounding, episodes ever, this is the show for you. I think that really everyone needs to see this, if they are willing.
(Also just a quick seasonal ranking - 4>6>5=3>2>>1)
I find myself compelled to express just how beautiful the Season 8 is. Sometimes, I forget this fact, as I tend to remember it as a painful farewell to one of my favorite characters. However, there are numerous mature, well-written, and expertly directed episodes that deserve recognition. Especially when we look back at the first season, where we could already see a good level of quality, but with the passing years, some moments may have seemed a bit naive.
Take, for example, the episodes "1x05 - Damned If You Do" and "8x12 - Chase", both exploring ecclesiastical themes and faith. We can notice a clear evolution in the series, as it avoids revisiting and rehashing previously explored territories, not just within House MD, but also compared to other shows.
And what can be said about "Nobody's Fault"? It was a witch hunt expertly handled with interest, delicacy, and the avoidance of clichés and predictable scenes.
Don't get me wrong, the first season had many memorable episodes that brilliantly defined House's character. However, I believe that with the eighth season, an equilibrium was achieved, making it enjoyable to watch all the episodes without ever getting bored, even upon multiple viewings.
I would have loved for the show to continue with more seasons. The writers, with their exceptional storytelling abilities, would have been capable of keeping the character dynamics engaging, providing viewers with moments of growth and empathy. Nonetheless, I am content with the way the series and the season concluded, even though I am deeply saddened by the fate of a particular character.
Season 8 showed us the series' ability to maintain its brilliance and captivate viewers until the very end. The episodes are a testament to the writers' dedication and their skill in crafting thought-provoking narratives. It is a season that reminds us of House MD's enduring legacy and its ability to leave a lasting impact on its audience.
I just realized that this is the last episode ever because this show got canceled. Honestly, I'm a bit upset. This show has been my guilty pleasure for a while now. There were a lot of awkward and just simply stupid things going on, but I was still excited to watch a new episode every week.
It didn't feel like a series finale. They were probably planning on doing season 4 before it got canceled, so I guess they wanted to show in what direction season 4 would go. But I don't think it would've been a good direction anyway.
I just can't stand shows where they're all making around with each other. Why can't we just keep some platonic relationships? Felix and Karma had a great base for a friendship because they both cared about Amy. And then they started to like each other because Felix realized that Karma isn't shallow and actually does a lot to make Amy happy and Karma realized that Felix is a nice guy who honestly wants to see Amy happy as well. Why did that have to lead to another romance? And don't even get me started on Liam and Lauren. I saw that coming from so far ahead, but I still couldn't believe they pulled through with that romance because it's beyond ridiculous.
This show had a lot of potential. I really enjoyed that they added intersexual, gay, polyamorous and transgender characters. It's a MTV show and every episode had 20 minutes and only 10 episodes for every season, so I didn't even expect these characters to be perfectly fleshed out, but it was still nice to see them.
On the other hand there are problems that never got solved, e.g. that whole bisexuality thing. It got mentioned one time by a bisexual character who was about to have a threesome with a guy and a girl which just felt insulting to me because bisexuality doesn't mean having sex with two people at the same time. I would've just loved to see Amy actually talking with Karma about the possibility of being bisexual.
And of course the whole Amy/Karma thing. We never got any closure.
I don't even know where I'm going with this. I just wanted to write down some thought I had about this episode/show.
All in all this show started out really interesting, but they kind of ruined it with all that unnecessary drama and weird relationships. But I still enjoyed it in some way and I'm a bit sad we never got any closure.
If Steve McQueen shows the racial discrimination in England between 1969 and 1982 en su antología "Small Axe", we could almost take "It's a sin" as the witness to sex discrimination from 1981 to 1991. "They all died because of you," says the character in Jill, in a phrase that is a clear accusation to Margaret Thatchers or Ronald Reagans that caused thousands of deaths. In times of coronavirus, it is important to remember that there have been diseases doomed to inaction and rejection.
It has been said that it is the best series by Russell T. Davies and without a doubt it is, perhaps because he has managed to create a mosaic of lives in which practically all positions are in front of AIDS, starting with ignorance and misinformation. Ritchie, Roscoe, Colin and Jill, perhaps to a lesser extent Ash, are representations of a threatened community (aka society), facing unknown danger. But the anger that has caused the abuse, denial and death is replaced by an optimistic position: "I wanted you to be the first to know: I'm gonna live." The first episodes, above all, show the vitality of a secret but explosive freedom.
"It's a sin" is an exciting series, heartbreaking, difficult to see especially for those of us who live the AIDS pandemic in the present, who feel fear and pain very close. It is a tribute to the victims, but also a story of survival.
You know what? This whole comment is a spoiler even if there are parts that aren't...
God damn these cops, and they wonder why black people are scared of them! I know it's just an episode on a show, but this type of stuff happens all the time! And they wanna be like "All lives matter!" Yes, we know your white asses matter, but that's not the point. We are here to say Black Lives Matter because no one else seems to think our lives matter. No one seems to see the injustice. No one seems to think about how we have to behave in a certain to not get arrested, to not get shot, to not get killed. Get any type of response that isn't "Yes sir, I'll kiss your feet sir!" and you're on the wrong side of the law. We have to have the talk with our black sons about how to behave when pulled over, not to not get arrested, but to not get KILLED! Why should we have to teach our children how to behave when a police officer is waving guns in your faces? They are CHILDREN! Why do we have to be suspects who are arrested, shot at, killed just because of the color of our skins. This type of situation would have made anyone upset, but because Miller is a big black man, he is thrown to the ground. Because these women who just had their Little Girls ABDUCTED are trying to get their children back, this mother is thrown against a car and arrested. Yes, she shouldn't have ran at the officer, but she did not TOUCH him. He says she assaulted him. His body cam should show that she didn't touch him. But no, their word is law. These pigs take the law into their own hands and are judge jury and executioner. GOD DAMN IT, I have to go to work in the morning. Hopefully I forget this episode by then, haha. I mean...not in the morning, tonight. It's 11am, which is my 11pm in these overnight shifts.
I swear I never thought cops would go after firefighters like that. Thought they'd work together, but hey, they feel like they are gods because they have guns. They are trash and are no heroes (except the ones who aren't racist pigs), not heroes like the firefighters are.
Yes, the mothers were reacting strongly, but imagine you calling the police knowing your children are in a house and the Police who you ask to protect you are dismissing you while your young children are possibly being molested by some old white man. He's white, so he has the law on his side just because of that. He lies and says they broke in...so how'd they get locked in that place? He said they weren't there before! So which is it? Did they break in, or are they not there? They are Children! This man lies through his teeth and will probably get away with it. AARGH I'm mad. I know it's not real, but it is. This type of stuff happens all the time!
Maybe one day this won't happen. Maybe one day I'll be able to lift my head and say I'm black and I'm beautiful and my sons will be safe...but I don't know that that will happen in my lifetime. No matter how we try to elevate ourselves and educate ourselves, at the end of the day, I'll be black and I'll be judged because of the color of my skin and my sons will be shot at and killed because they fit a profile of a suspicious black male. I'm upset because this episode hits close to home.
This show is an epilogue to Steven Universe and it's amazing. If you have seen sequel series like Naruto Shippuden then you have a small idea of how this will be. The biggest difference is that this is a very finite and emotional end. It's take on childhood trauma is therapeutic. It's wrap ups for each character is fitting. It's hard to end a show right but this definitely satisfies an impossible expectation to somehow love saying goodbye to beloved characters.
Beware, beyond here there be glimpses of the future.
The original series has whimsey, action, silly, and impactful and groundbreaking moments, a lot for a kids show. This epilogue takes you through the aftershocks of facing life with a smile. Stevens loss of self control and descent into madness results in him watching himself become the biggest baddy yet. To start it delves into growing up and coming to terms with having the world resting on this child's shoulders. Toiling to control the growing resentment towards his family, Steven has to also juggle new powers and learn how to be a normal person with normal friends. Seeing the once loving, obnoxiously happy Steven Universe struggle to realize that his father lived in a van down by the river, neglecting him, to see his surrogate mother figures realize they used Steven as a therapist, to see him distance himself everyone he hold dear is hauntingly entertaining. This much depth of character is hard to see in a kids show but it definitely handles moderate adult themes in ways a child can understand and a parent can appreciate while watching together. I love this series and never did I expect this show to be what it is.
S.S. Misery
It's obvious, that the whole Lapis-Jasper-Storyline is about toxic relationships. And they done it really well. People stay together not only for external reasons (for the kids etc.) but also for internal reasons. As Lapis say, she kind of misses Jasper. It is an unhealthy urge to surround oneself with people that drag you down. But i think the underlying motive of Lapis Lazuli is depression. First of all Lapis is blue, she is literally feeling blue all the time. Second she shows symptoms of depression (i am not a psychiatrist, though, so i could be wrong). No motivation to do anything, Steven has to urge her to come on the boat. Blaming herself for everything. Making herself miserable because she thinks she deserves it. Maybe, like Centi, she is corrupted in her own way. It isn't just fixed with repairing her gem.
It was a melancholic but also lovely episode. It was satisfying to see her stand up against Jasper. But i think that won't be the last of it. You can't overcome such unhealthy relationships with a bang, and i think the show runner know this.
I am not sure how i should interpret the title. Neither Steven nor Lapis nor Greg where alone in this episode. Maybe it's about Jasper, but i think it's more meta. Maybe Lapis is feeling alone at sea. She thinks nobody is there to help her, nobody can help her. But in reality she has a lot of people who like her (Steven, Greg, Peridot). She feels alone, but her friends are close, just behind the horizon.
[9.5/10] At some point, I am going to stop being surprised by Rick and Morty’s brilliance and just expect it, but the show is still at that point where I suspect it’ll be good every week, but it still manages to blow me away each new turn it takes.
I take “The Ricklantis Mixup” to be Season 3’s answer to the improv episodes from the prior two seasons -- a change of pace that allows Dan Harmon and Justin Roiland to play around in their amazing sandbox of a universe for a bit without feeling the need to develop or advance their main character. In that, they give us an episode that doesn’t have Rick or Morty or any of the other main characters, and yet has all the Ricks and Morties, in glorious, The Wire-esque splendor.
And The Wire really has to be the touchstone for an episode like this. Where else are you going to find something that addresses the challenges of cops and criminals, the rise of an charismatic and unexpected leader, the frustrations of blue collar working who feels like the system is holding him down, and the difficulties of four schoolchildren to make their way in that world. Hell, throw in a Hamsterdam, and you have all five seasons of that superlative show, filtered through Harman and Roiland’s dueling deranged perspectives and deposited into one twenty-two minute chunk. That’s an amazing achievement, the sort of praise I feel like I’m throwing out all too often for this show, but it keeps earning it.
The episode can roughly be broken up into those four stories, but what makes the episode more than just the sum of its parts (and what earns its Wire comparisons) is how interconnected those stories are, both literally, since they’re connected by the Citadel are all affected by the ecosystem that’s developed after our Rick destroyed the place, but also thematically, in the way each protagonist of each story looks at a bad situation and wants change, and gets it, but gets something unsatisfying or unpleasant or worse than they bargained for out of the process, with plenty of dead bodies floating among the garbage and blasted out the airlock.
That’s clearest for Candidate Morty, trying to win the presidency of The Citadel on behalf of The Morty Party. There’s something aspirational, almost West Wing-esque about Candidate Morty, as he gives soaring, Obama-esque speeches about dissolving the lines of division between Ricks and Morties and make The Citadel something better for all. That makes it seem particularly terrible when his former campaign manager, another Morty, tries to assassinate him. The move turns out to be all for naught since Candidate Morty survives and becomes President, in something that seems like a chance to turn around this mixed up place.
Instead, it’s revealed that Candidate Morty is the evil, eye patch-wearing Morty we met back in Season 1. It’s the perfect, knife-turning twist for the episode -- a reveal that the Carcetti-esque beacon of hope for a city in turmoil is a guy running on unifying rhetoric to pursue his own Carcetti-esque ambitions (well, maybe a touch more intergalactically evil than Carcetti’s). All of that hope, all of the communal joining together and believing that things can change just puts a tyrant into power, and holy hell is that one of the darkest things an already dark show has put forward.
Then there’s Factory Worker Rick, who seems older and more haried even by Rick standards, gazing out of subway cars, seeing wealthier and cooler Ricks succeed ahead of him, and sighing. He works at a factory that makes wafers out of the satisfaction an old fashioned “Simple Rick” enjoys when reliving the experience of spending time with his daughter (a subtly revealing bit in and of itself).
Things hit the fan when he goes postal, killing his boss and co-workers, and getting into a hostage standoff with the police. There too, the show capture a certain backbreaking ennui to this place, that even (and maybe especially) a locale populated by geniuses leads to this sort of dissatisfaction, disaffection, and anomie. And this story has just as cynical an ending, with Factory Worker Rick believing he’s won, only for the Wonka-esque Rick who runs the factory to capture him and use that feeling of freedom and satisfaction to fuel his new deluxe wafers. I mean, my god, if that is not the peak of devastating, existential irony on this show, I don’t know what is.
There’s also Rookie Cop Rick, who’s paired with Grizzled Cop Morty. More than the other stories, this one feels like it’s riffing on a sea of tropes ripped right out of the Training Day playbook. There’s plenty of political and social commentary baked in through how even Grizzled Cop Morty looks down on his fellow Morties as “animals” or how Rookie Cop Rick tries to give himself up to his brethren for the difficult choices he’s made and gets let off the hook. But it has less impact since it feels like more of those tropes played straight (or at least, as straight as can be possible given the insane circumstances) than something truly new and subversive.
Still, this is the part of the episode where the show gains strength from the crazy details of the world it’s constructed at The Citadel. The entire concept of a wild Morty club where Morty’s dress up in costumes, dance for one another, and use bad math, or of a series of news anchors from the same hierarchy of subuniverses, each of whom has it worst than the next, or just the concept of Morties who’ve been turned into lizards and Ricks adopting rural affections is bizarre and hilarious and head-scratching in the best ways.
That comes through in the episode’s final story, which sees a quartet of young Morties, soon to be assigned to a new quartet of Ricks, go out in search of a fabled “wish portal” that could change their lives. The sorriest among them is Cool Morty, who has an experimental drama chip that allows him to make things “sad and a little boring,” and who’s been through Rick after Rick. Here too, there is that sense of existential dread, of things never changing, the permeates the proceedings. Cool Morty’s suicide is unexpected and lives up to the sadness his experimental chip portends, but it’s made worse that the supposed change his dive into this sci-fi wishing well effected is the hollow one President Morty offered.
That’s the rub of this one. Even in this fantastical world of brilliant scientists and their boy sidekicks, there is a kaleidoscope of pain and false promises that stretch through everything. All the geniuses, all the good-natured moppets in the world can’t change that when thrown together into their own dysfunctional society. That Rick and Morty has the chutzpah to explore that society for an episode, and to deliver that message, just speaks to the boldness and off-kilter storytelling we’ve come to expect, and to make it all as funny as it is quietly devastating, is a near-miracle. Rick and Morty keeps delivering them on a regular basis.
9.5/10. If you'd said to me, "Hey watch this short film that's a cross between Lost in Translation and the opening act of Wall-E," I'm pretty sure I would just look at you funny. And yet that's pretty much what this was, and it worked beautifully. The undersea world BoJack found himself in, where he couldn't eat the food, couldn't engage in his usual vices, and most of all couldn't speak or understand the local dialect, captured the experience of isolation and confusion that can come from visiting a foreign country through a distinctively BoJack lens.
But it also created a great atmosphere for a format-bending episode. Offering a nigh-wordless half hour of comedy in a show that makes its hay from its dialogue could either be gimmicky or bold, and thankfully this episode tended toward the former. It helped to put the viewer in BoJack's shoes -- only able to communicate and express mood through non-verbal cues like gestures, body language, and the score.
And in the absence of dialogue, Bojack Horseman reverts to a certain Looney Tunes-esque vibe where BoJack finds himself inadvertently responsible for an adorable little seahorse moppet. (I had flashbacks to the "Buttons and MIndy"segments of Animaniacs and a dozen other classic cartoons.) The design and personality of the seahorse baby struck the right balance of adorable and mischievous, and it created a nice opportunity for BoJack to be caring, brave, and as always, eternally frustated.
But this being Bojack, of course there's a quiet strain of melancholy through the whole thing. When Bojack returns to the seahorse babe to its father, the dad is mildly grateful, but mostly blase, and the baby doesn't even wave to him when it's time for BoJack to say goodbye. They went through this experience together, through shark attacks and taffy explosions and being stranded, and the moppet is too little to even look up for his soup or appreciate what his equine friend did for him. There's an emptiness there, a sort of existential realization that all that effort, which was quite noble in and of itself, feels a little hollow without someone to share it with or to appreciate it.
So through this experience, BoJack finally finds the words to apologize to Kelsey Jannings, noting that grand acts are nice, but that accomplishments, even ones far more important than winning and Oscar like returning a child to their parent, can seem like building a sandcastle, inevitably fleeting and meant to be washed away with the coming tide. But that those connections between individuals are what sustain us and give us life and reason to go on in a world of sandcastles.
Again, this being BoJack Horseman, those words too are washed away before he can get them to Kelsey in any sort of readable fashion. To add insult to injury, he realizes in the end that he could have talked this whole time, which is the right combination of sad and funny. But overall, this is a wonderful episode that uses some great Warner Bros. silent capering to further the show's project of examining its lead's attempts to find meaning in his life, and finds an inventive way to convey that experience.
Barry Jenkins is easily one of the greatest directors of our time, and he proves it with this episode.
There's always been a serious problem with the way comedy television depicts violence. The odd tonal shift, the humor at the crime scene of dramadys like Psych or Monk. The horror of a dead body and the trauma of violence go totally effaced by the conventions of humor. People's distance from violence, from blood, from dead bodies, from the barrel of a gun, these distances let shows like these get away with maneuvers like this. And don't get me wrong. I love what a comedy can accomplish by ignoring certain realities. It is, after all, fiction. But I have still marveled about how such an unrealistic rendering of something terrible can not shatter one's suspension of disbelief.
Jenkins offers a powerful antidote to those generic conventions in the otherwise comedic Dear White People. Jenkins truly captures the terror of the gun on screen for all to see. The way he escalates the conflict and perfectly positions the daily traumas one might observe as relatively benign, and how they link explicitly to police gun violence toward Black people is excellent in its execution but appalling in its reality.
Marque Richardson acts his behind off in these scenes. Facing down the police officer's gun. Sitting in his dorm room on the floor in the aftermath. It is rare that I see something so deeply moving on the screen.
Richardson, Jenkins, and of course Justin Simien have given us something truly special with this episode that both interrogates genre conventions by displaying an altogether superior aesthetic practice and making manifest the daily reality of racial oppression directed against Black people in the United States.
9/10 on a post-classic Simpsons scale. Of the surprisingly large number of unrequited crushes on The Simpsons, two of the biggest are Smithers's for Burns and Milhouse's for Lisa, and "Burns Cage" takes a shot at both. And it works surprisingly well! The show is fairly gentle with each, and sans a very strange ending, has empathy for the two young gentleman who seem destined to be forever longing for their sweethearts.
I was particularly impressed with how they handled Smithers's story. There's genuine pathos in his quickly-brushed off, near-profession of love for Mr. Burns. His musical lament isn't the sharpest number the show's ever done, but it's clever and cute, and it works. I liked the story motivation that his being unlucky in love prompted him to take out his frustrations on Homer and his pals, who set him up in order to lighten his mood. Bringing back Julio to become Smithers's boyfriend was a nice touch, and there was real joy in how happy Smithers was to finally be in a fulfilling romantic relationship. Of course, the status quo demands of a sitcom means it's not meant to last, but it's still nice while it does.
And despite that inevitable reversion to the status quo, I liked the idea that Smithers still couldn't get Burns out of his head, but that it took Burns showing him some appreciation, making some kind of personal appeal, that brought him back. It's not perfect, but it's an attention to character and good emotional beat to end the plot on.
The Casablanca school play bit is a little less successful, but still sweet. Milhouse's attempts to woo Lisa are almost always amusing, and his initial disappointment with the new Humphrey Bogart-like kid, and her frustration at his poor acting and eventual support, were a nice direction to go with it. I kind of hated the fakeout ending where it was the new kid pretending to be Milhouse the whole time -- it was a hokey reveal that made little sense and robbed the close of the story of emotional punch, but it was still a pleasant journey up to that point.
And the humor was on point too! From classic sign gags (like the kindergarten's production of Equus), to Bart's bully scheme backfiring, to the endlessly delightful George Takei, there were several good laughs and clever gags here. One big misfire at the end of Milhouse's story, but otherwise a damn fine episode for the show in its late years.
