It's insane how amazing the first three episodes of this second season has been. Again with an interesting classic twist and with some great acting, especially from Christina Chong. These character driven episode really is Star Trek for me. To bad there is only 7 episodes left of this season.
i am DEVASTATED this was such a powerful and depressing episode. ALL the awards for bella and storm
I’m so thankful for Beltik! I don’t know what is it about him but I find him so likeable and nice, and I’m glad he was there for Beth when she needed someone the most.
Even Benny is a decent guy! I really enjoy that so far every man has been decent and respectful and I know that’s the bare minimum but it’s been good taking a break of how awful men can be. I hope this doesn’t change and Benny or Beltik don’t turn out to be awful people.
William literally murdered his own daughter. Wow. I didn’t expect that at all but William might need to re-evaluate his...entire life.
What a wholesome Father’s Day experience!
I won't lie, I actually liked the previous episode more. It was a good ending, but it could have ended a bit further into the future, leaving the rest to our imagination isn't too much of a problem. I could listen to Lady Ochiba's speech for hours, she is magnificent. The conversation between Toranaga and Yabushige was really good too. Thank you for one of the best series of recent times. Here's hoping to see more productions that portray Japanese culture and history in such a high-quality manner...
I secretly wanted Fuji and Anjin to be together, I'm sorry Mariko-sama. (˘･_･˘)
I love this show! It really did not feel like 47 minutes had gone by. It was faced paced, exciting, and hilarious. I look forward to seeing where this season goes.
Also, stay after the credits for a post-credits scene as the MCU is well accustomed to doing by now!
[7.5/10] Ahsoka feels right. The vistas of Lothal feel of a piece with their animated rendition. The characters seem like themselves despite shifts in the performer and the medium. Their relationships feel genuine even though much has changed in the five years since we’ve seen them together.
Maybe that shouldn’t be a big surprise with Dave Filoni, impresario of the animated corner of Star Wars, both writing and directing “Master and Apprentice”, the series premiere. He is the title character’s co-creator and caretaker. He is the creator of Star Wars: Rebels, the show that Ahsoka is most clearly indebted to. And he is, for many, the keeper of the flame when it comes to the Galaxy Far Far Away.
But it was my biggest fear for this show. More than the plot, more than the lore, more than the latest chapter in the life of my favorite character in all of Star Wars, my concern was that translating all these characters, and their little corner of the universe, to live action and a different cast and a different era of the franchise would make everything feel wrong. Instead, we’re right at home. The rest is gravy.
And the gravy is good. Because these are not the colorful, if intense, adventures of the Ghost crew fans saw before. This is, or should be, a period of triumph for the onetime Rebels. They won! The Empire is torn asunder! Lothal is led with grace and a touch of wry sarcasm by Governor Azadi, with none other than Clancy Brown reprising the role! Huyang the lightsaber-crafting droid is still around and has most of his original parts!
Nonetheless, our heroes are hung up on old battles and older wounds. Ahsoka Tano is on a quest to track down Grand Admiral Thrawn, who hunted the Spectres in Rebels. Sabine Wren can’t bask in the afterglow of victory as a hero when she’s still mourning Ezra Bridger. And the two warriors have some lingering bad blood with one another after an attempt to become master and apprentice, true to the title, went wrong somewhere along the way.
With that, the first installment of Ahsoka is a surprisingly moody and meditative affair, one that works well for Star Wars. Sure, there's still a couple of crackerjack lightsaber fights to keep the casual fans engaged. But much of this one is focused on familiar characters reflecting on what’s been lost, what’s been broken, and what’s hard to fix. The end of Rebels was triumphant, but came with costs. To linger on those costs, and the new damage that's accumulated in their wake, is a bold choice from Filoni and company.
So is the decision to focus on Sabine here. Don’t get me wrong, Ahsoka has the chance to shine in the first installment of the show that bears her name. Her steady reclamation of a map to Thrawn, badass hack-and-slash on some interfering bounty droids, and freighted reunions with Hera and her former protege all vindicate why fans have latched onto the character. For her part, Rosario Dawson has settled into the role, bringing a certain solemnity that befits a more wizened and confident master, but also that subtle twinkle that Ashley Eckstei brings to the role.
And yet, the first outing for Ahsoka spends more time with Sabine’s perspective. It establishes her as a badass who’d rather rock her speeder with anti-authoritarian style than be honored for her heroics. It shows her grieving a lost comrade whose sacrifice still haunts her. It teases out an emotional distance and rebelliousness between her and her former mentor. And it closes with her using her artist’s eye to solve the puzzle du jour, and defend herself against a fearsome new enemy.
This is her hour, and while Sabine is older, more introverted, all the more wounded than the Mandalorian tagger fans met almost a decade ago, this opening salvo for the series is better for it.
My only qualms are with the threat du jour. Yet another Jedi not only survived the initial Jedi Purge, but has made it to the post-Return of the Jedi era without arousing the suspicions of Palpatine, Vader, Yoda, or Obi-Wan. Ray Stevenson brings a steady and quietly menacing air to Baylan Skoll, the former Jedi turned apparent mercenary, but there's enough rogue force-wielders running around already, thank you very much.
His apprentice holds her own against New Republic forces and Ahsoka’s own former apprentice, but is shrouded in mystery. She goes unidentified, which, in Star Wars land, means she’s secretly someone important (a version of Mara Jade from the “Legends” continuity?) or related to someone important (the child of, oh, let’s say Ventress). And I’m tired of such mystery boxes.
Throw in the fact that Morgan Elsbet, Ahsoka’s source and prisoner, turns out to be a Nightsister, and you have worrying signs that the series’ antagonists will be rehashing old material rather than moving the ball forward. The obvious “We just killed a major character! No for real you guys!” fakeout cliffhanger ending doesn’t inspire much confidence on that front either.
Nonetheless, what kept me invested in Rebels, and frankly all of Star Wars, despite plenty of questionable narrative choices, is the characters. The prospect of Ahsoka trying to train a non force-sensitive Mandalorian in the ways of the Jedi, or at least her brand of them, is a bold and fascinating choice.
But even more fascinating is two people who once believed in one another, having fallen apart, drifting back together over the chance to save someone they both care about. “Master and Apprentice” embraces, rather than shying away from, the sort of lived-in relationships that made the prior series so impactful in the past, and the broken bonds that make these reunions feel fragile, painful, and more than a little bitter in the present.
I am here for Hera the general trying to patch things up between old friends. I am here for Sabine holding onto her rebellious streak but carrying scars from what went wrong, in the Battle of Lothal and in her attempts to learn the ways of the Jedi. And I am here for Ahsoka, once the apprentice without a master, now the master without an apprentice, here to snuff out the embers of the last war and reclaim what was lost within it.
They all feel right. The rest can figure itself out.
"What in the name of Kevin Spacey’s self-made Christmas Eve video message to try to get back on House of Cards is going on here?" A+ line.
C'mon, Dustin. Didn't anyone tell you not to feed pollywogs after midnight?
I'm waiting for that thing to grow into a demogorgon (or something worse).
The single greatest hour of television I've ever witnessed.
[7.7/10] I love me some gray areas in my Star Wars. Don’t get me wrong, the light side vs. dark side stuff. But as I’ve grown older, I appreciate stories, including Star Wars stories, that acknowledge our communities and our choices are rarely that simple.
So I like the fact that the Nightsisters (or at least some kind of presumably related witches’ coven) are presented as a counterpoint to the Jedi, not the villains of the piece. This flashback serves a number of purposes. It gives us some of that vaunted backstory, to help us understand where Osha and Mae and Sol and others are coming from. It fills in the gaps of the events that loom so large in the histories of our twin protagonists, letting the audience see them (or most of them) after being tantalized by only being told about them so far.
But most of all, it establishes a different, but no less valid alternative to the force-users we know. We’ve seen the Jedi. We’ve seen the Sith. We’ve seen the Nightsisters who, while sometimes sympathetic (hello Fallen Order fans!), also seem to be harnessing some kind of black magic. We’ve seen the Bendu, who’s more neutral than gray. And we’ve even seen the more passive and meditative Bardottans. (Aka, the species Jar Jar’s girlfriend is from -- no I’m not joking.)
But we’ve never seen anything quite like this coven led by Osha and Mae’s mother, Mother Aniseya. I love that they have a different take on the Force. The coven thinks the Jedi view the Force as a power to be wielded, whereas they view it more as a thread, a tapestry between peoples and events, that can be tugged and pulled to cause changes amid that weaving. Their perspective on the Force is a collectivist one, where their connection to it is given strength by the multitude, in contrast to the Jedi’s view on attachments. And they don’t view the Force as directing fate, but rather as providing for choices -- one of the core ideas of the franchise.
That is all neat! One of the best parts of The Last Jedi is the notion that the Force does not belong to the Jedi. It is, instead, something that flows through all peoples. Exploring that there may be different religions out there, different means of reaching and interpreting it, adds depth ot he world and adds complication to the binary. It’s nearly never a bad thing to add that kind of complexity and ecumenical spirit to your universe.
More or less. One of the other things I appreciate is that the Coven and the jedi view one another with suspicion, even though they’re mutually respectful at first. The coven sees the Jedi as arrogant, too focused on power, too individualistic. The Jedi view the Coven as dark, as corrupting, as dangerous. I’m always a fan of shows that don’t present one perspective, but rather explore how the different vantage points affect the different views groups may have of one another. (Shades of Deep Space Nine from the other major star-bound franchise!)
This is all to say that the Coven is different than what we’re used to, but no less valid. The Jedi as we see them here are different than what we’re used to, but not invalid. And their twin approaches, alike in dignity, come through in the fulcrum between the Coven and the Order: Mea and Osha.
Let’s talk about the elephant in the room with those two. The young actress (actresses?) who play the earlier version of the twins aren’t very good. That's no sin. Giving a convincing performance as an adult with years of experience remains startlingly difficult. But the reality is that, though these young actors are giving it their all, there is a put on, stagey quality to the performance that can take you out of the moment. I dearly hope the fandom is kind to them nonetheless. It’s tough being a young performer, especially in a high profile role. But despite a nice moment from Osha when she realizes the gravity of what she’s lost, a lot of the acting from the kiddos is apt to take the viewer out of the moment.
Thankfully, the writing helps make up for it. Not for nothing, given Lucasfilm’s current ownership, much of this feels like the first act of a film from the Disney Renaissance. Osha could be your classic Disney princess. She loves her family and wants to do good and be righteous, but she has this yearning for something different, beyond the garden gate. The episode lays it on a little thick in places, but it’s a venerable story beat for a reason. There’s something compelling about someone trying to make the best of a family situation that doesn’t quite fit them but yearning adventure out past the horizon. (I mean, hey, it worked for Luke Sykwalker.) Osha is roughly one “I want” song from joining the little mermaid and company.
What I like about it, though, is that you feel for all sides of this situation. You feel for Osha. She wants to have an existence separate from her twin. She doesn’t feel like she fits in with the Coven. She doesn’t want to disappoint her moms or her sister. But she doesn’t want to lie. She doesn’t want to deny herself. She doesn’t want to give up this thing inside her telling her she wants more, or at least different.
You feel for Mae. She admittedly, has signs of being the “evil” twin. (Though I guess they both seem to use their force powers to freeze that translucent butterfly? I’ll admit, it was confusing who was who there at points.) She feels at home in the Coven. She loves the immediate family and the wider one. She has power and ease, and the confidence that comes from feeling that you’re where you ought to be. In the end, she does a terrible thing, but she’s an eight-year-old lashing out at an unfortunate situation. In the larger than life confines of fiction, it’s an easy thing for me to forgive.
You feel for Mother Aniseya. She is trying to protect her people. She wants to raise her daughters in her own proud tradition. But she also wants them to find their own path to it. But, from the vantage point of being a little older and a little wiser, she knows that what you want can change. What makes sense in the exuberance of youth can fall out of favor when it makes contact with the knots and tangles of that great ethereal thread. Wanting to protect your child, to instill your values in theme, while respecting their autonomy as young people is an impossible balance. Aniseya handles it with understanding and grace.
Heck, you even understand Mother Koril, who is the more strict and belligerent parental figure here. The cultural conditions are mostly implied, but it’s easy to intuit how the Coven has been marginalized, diminished, possibly by Force. The girls represent their future, and it seems to have required a great deal of her and her partner to make that happen. Why wouldn’t she do anything to protect her girls, and mistrust the Jedi who would deign to take their future away from her and her family?
And you also feel for Sol. The Acolyte already conveyed a very fatherly vibe between him and Osha,but this episode cements it. I have my qualms about what happens to the young woman, but Sol seems searnest when he tells her that she could be a great Jedi, when he imparts that courage means pursuing honestly what you want, when he embraces her in the throes of tragedy and wants to take her on as a surrogate child. The estranged relationship between them in the present is counterbalanced by this fraught but touching connection between them in the past.
Of course, that past is no less slippery. For one thing, there’s still much that's alluded to that we don’t quite see. Presumably there was some conflict between the Jedi and the Coven that Osha wasn’t privy to, which we’ll see down the line. Presumably, it’s part of what spurred Mae to take the actions she did. Presumably it’s why there’s great regret among the Jedi who survived the encounter. And that's before you get into the fact that apparently Mother Aniseya channeled some forbidden magic, or at least did something controversial, to bring the twins’ lives into being. There’s plenty of lore and intrigue yet.
But for now, at least, we have two cultures at odds with one another, in ways that question and complicate our sympathies. This is Star Wars. We know who the Jedi are. We’re apt to side with them, to see them as Osha does, as peacekeepers and heroes of the galaxy. (Even if we’ve seen their ossification and dissolution over the course of the Prequels.) When Osha wants to be a Jedi, and her witch family tells her to lie, to deny herself what she wants in the same of something she’s uncertain about, it’s easy to see Indara and company as rescuers.
And yet, it’s also hard not to see this different means of reaching the Force, that is apparently all but outlawed, and not have serious qualms about the equivalent of religious persecution. The notion that the Coven is allowed to exist, but forbidden from passing on their knowledge to children is startling. It’s clear that there remains animosity between the Coven and the Jedi, born of mutual mistrust, with ostensible peacemakers and instigators. And it’s hard to think of Republic law allowing the Jedi to test and, with some permission, take children away to be taught in their fashion, without thinking of real life colonial schools, and so-called “residential schools” in the United States, that have a checkered history at best.
So while the show makes things a little too blunt with Mae and Osha standing across from one another on a broken bridge, you get the reasons behind the actions and anguish between these two young girls, between their various parents, between Jedi and the Coven. This is not black and white, good and evil, light and dark. This is something more muddled and uncertain than that. And it portends deeper and more interesting things as the mythos of Star Wars evolves before our eyes.
(Speculative spoilers: My bet is that Mae’s master is one of her moms, probably Mother Koril. THough I guess it being the comparatively peaceful and forgiving Aniseya would be a bigger twist. The law of conservation of characters suggests it’s one of them, unless it’s secretly Master Vernestra or something. But one of the moms would be the bigger emotional gut punch, so I presume and hope it’s one of them.)
If you didnt cry for Data, even if you saw what he was doing coming, then screw you bruh! The gang is back together for one final round, and if you don't get why that's awesome, get the fuck outa here!
Amazing how much better the show can be (not that Season 2 was bad or anything) when Schumer and Delevigne aren't around.
Episodes like this make me proud to be a Trekie again. This episode didn't take itself too seriously and was full of sci-fi optimism, just what the world needs!
This show is just so good. The scene with the Baldwins was just brilliantly acted. I have never seen anything like it. Honestly, it almost brought me to tears, that‘s how good it was.
I nearly rated this a 7 because it was a fun watch if you didn't pay too much attention to the detail. The best parts were definitely with Saru et al on the planet; the other parts felt shallow and drawn out with a lot of fairly vacuous action. A bit of a disappointing end to the season but on the plus side, at least we don't need to keep pretending that Michael isn't Discovery's leader. I just hope this doesn't mark the end of Saru's involvement, especially since we already lost Georgiou this season.
I do hope next season they focus on distinguishing the assorted crew members more because at the moment, outside of the more obviously senior officers, these assorted faces keep cropping up that all seem to have the same "happy NPC" personality.
As for all the people rating every episode 1s and 2s out of 10, bitching and moaning about alleged "bumming" and forced "diversity", you're 3 seasons in now and know what you're getting. Either accept this is what this particular Trek show is about and try and enjoy it by growing as a person, or find something else to do or watch - life is far too short. You'll feel better, I'm sure.
The Mandalorian: "Fett?"
Boba Fett: "Let's just say they might recognise my face."
I burst out laughing. Now that's a reference I can get behind!
It was nice to see Mayfeld again; he's such a charming character. And I was surprised to see Mando go through another character arc. In Season One, he had to get over his prejudice/hate of droids but that all changed when IG-11 proved to him that droids aren't all that bad. In this episode, it took Mayfeld to convince Mando (as well as quite a few others throughout both seasons) to finally let others see his face. I think it really sunk in when he met Bo Katan and her crew, but after losing the kid, he really was desperate. And it was as he said:
The Mandalorian: "He means more to me than you will ever know."
Again, fantastic writing. The twisting of these words, thrown back at Gideon is so menacing and satisfying.
TECHNICAL SCORE: 7/10
ENJOYMENT SCORE: 8/10
Clearly a more serious episode, the ones dealing with abortion will always be somewhat tougher for show runners and viewers to handle, due to the stigma surrounding the subject. Though I'm physiologically limited to truly comprehend the whole situation, I feel that this episode handled things well. Sarah was the most heartbreaking character on this show, so far, but her connection with Maeve felt like a sparkle of light in the darkness of that event. In such a time as difficult for them as that was, everything felt alright, for a moment.
Otis being there for Maeve was, as expected, utterly adorable, and I'm sure 90% of us are already rooting for those two to end up together. But, right now, they just make a really weird and misadjusted couple. I really want to see their relationship grow (even if it won't end up being a romantic one).
This episode ended up being a beautiful sad cake, sprinkled with hope on top.
Can’t help but feel this was a little bit of a dud of an ending? Not sure, going to have to reflect on this for a little while, but immediately feels like a 6/10 ending for what was overall an 8/10 show.
Edit: Having read the book ending, yeah, I'm a little let down by this one. The book basically throws in another murder that Jacob is suspiciously close to after Hope winds up dead and Laurie finds a red stain on Jacobs bathing suit. This pushes Laurie over the edge with guilt as she is now totally convinced Jacob did it, resulting in her killing him with the car crash. I feel this is much more compelling ending as it adds a pattern of similar circumstances around Jacob, but still doesn't confirm he is the killer. and further drives home some of the central points of the show. The grey area between right and wrong, the decision between what is right ethically, and what is right for the family, and how hard it is to straddle that line for the people involved. How a parent copes with loving someone that they are convinced did a horrific act. It keeps the same ambiguity of the show ending while adding the finality of Jacobs death, meaning we may never know the truth.
Although it feels like I've bemoaned the entire ending here, I still really enjoyed the show, and would probably give the whole show about an 8/10 if pressed for a score. Would have just been great for them to have gone through with the book ending as it's a little darker and much more in-keeping with the shows tone and presentation.
I don't know what someone dying from radiation poisoning looks like, but what they showed this episode was absolutely terrifying. They looked like they were liquefying from the inside out. Also, the description itself was super unsettling. How crazy is it that energy can literally make your cells break apart?
Each episode I watch makes want to learn more and more about the true story. As a scientist myself, I find it so interesting and compelling. And I can't help wondering what we could do differently if something like this happened tomorrow. Would we act quicker? Is there a better way of containing a nuclear disaster? Everything considered, and if what they've presented in the show so far is true, the Chernobyl accident wasn't nearly as devastating as it could have been.
[8.8/10] Better Call Saul has never been closer to Breaking Bad. That’s not just because the episode opens with this show’s first glimpse of Jimmy as the Saul Goodman we met on the prior show, in the midst of his fleeing from justice. It’s just because Gus Fring seems to nail down the plans for the facility that will one day be Walter White’s laboratory. It’s not just because Jimmy visits The Dog House, the fast food restaurant and hangout where Jesse Pinkman sold meth.
It’s because this is an episode about people who are outstanding at what they do, who have near unrivaled skills, and what direction that takes them in. That was the larger story of Breaking Bad, a story about a man who had an undeniable talent, and who could not set it aside when the recognition and lucre came with a side of human misery, and who didn’t know when to walk away until it was too late. It’s a show that lived on the conflicted thrills of watching someone so skilled ply their craft, and earned its emotional resonance from both the uncertainty and foreboding sense of where it would lead him.
“Quite a Ride” positions Jimmy in the same way, as someone who has a gift for persuasion, the ability to make an anthill sound like Mount Everest, and a lack of scruples that mean he doesn't mind skirting the law if it suits him. The difference is that Walt was running from a life he resented, whereas Jimmy seems to be running from his own grief.
There’s a version of Jimmy that could maybe have been happy, at least temporarily, working at the mobile phone store in a semi-normal way. Sure, his efforts to convince a passing customer that he can evade the taxman by buying these phones that are allegedly selling like hotcakes isn’t exactly on the up-and-up, but it’s a pretty straight job by Jimmy’s standards.
But it’s not enough, at least not when he has a moment of quiet, a moment to let his grief catch up with him. Sitting on the couch, watching Dr. Zhivago, Jimmy starts to tear up, as the pain of the events with his brother seem to flood back in a way he’s been able to keep at bay. So Jimmy turns to his drug of choice, his favorite distraction, and the thing that makes him feel better than anything else -- a nice, lucrative hoodwink.
He buys a heap of burner phones from his own store, and ventures to The Dog House to unload them to whatever criminal element is around to purchase them, in another one of the show’s sterling montages. There’s a sense in these scenes that Jimmy is both at the top of his game, but also wants to be punished for it. He doesn't know when to leave well enough alone, and seems to be pulled between the part of himself that wants to see exactly how far his talents will take him, and the part that wants to push him into something so bad that it’ll be the wake up call that snaps him out of this.
That wake up call comes. It doesn't happen when Jimmy wanders into a crowd of bikers who are enough to scare away the rest of the riff raff. It happens when the three young hoods who turned him down earlier in the night rough him up and take his spoils from the evening. He returns home, worse for wear, and after a sweet scene of Kim tending to his wounds, he agrees to go to the shrink she recommended.
He seems to realize that this isn’t healthy, and enough is enough. Just the image of Kim standing across from him, a symbol of his conscience and the better life he can have, is enough to spur him to be better and not let another night like this happen again.
Kim, however, is running as well. Instead of grief, she’s running from guilt, and instead of devolving further into a life of questionable morality, she’s hurtling herself headlong into an effort to regain her ethical moorings. That means working as a public defender in her spare time, going toe-to-toe with the same local prosecutor that Jimmy himself used to joust with. But unlike Jimmy, Kim isn’t just using subterfuge and bombast to get criminals off. She’s using prosecutorial screw-ups to hold the other side accountable, telling the young man she works out a deal for to get his life right or she won’t be there to bail him out, and goes above and beyond to help a young woman too scared to show up to court do what she needs to do.
This is all wildly successful, because Kim is damn good at what she does. She knows how to put the prosecution through their paces; she knows how to read a young screw-up the riot act in the hopes that he won’t be back here, and she knows how to be sympathetic but forceful with her clients who need both a helping hand and a little push.
The problem is that it means Kim is shirking her responsibilities elsewhere, specifically with Mesa Verde. She blows off a call from Paige, her contact at the bank, so that she can see things through with her pro bono client. It’s the negative image of Jimmy’s choices in this episode -- a decision that’s foolish and a little self-destructive, but noble, and one Kim promises never to make again. Both Kim and Jimmy are trying to regain their souls, but in very different ways, and for very different reasons, even if both use their god-given skills to great effect in the process.
Mike is employing his expert skills as well. The top of the line, undetectable meth lab that Gus is putting together is part of his grand plan, and so he needs people he can rely on. That’s why he brings in Mike to scout the architects for his place. For one thing, Mike’s shown -- through his escapades at Madrigal -- that he knows how to cover every detail to make sure that their illicit dealings aren’t found out or shut down -- something the show again conveys with a great visual sequence involving point of view shots from under a hood and communicating the passage of time through quick cut changes in sound and lighting in the back of a rocky van.
But he also knows people, like we saw last week, and he can tell when someone is blowing smoke at him and when someone’s being straight. That’s why Gus trusts him, and why Mike sends the boastful guy who claims he can build the lab in six months packing. And it’s why when Werner Ziegler, the nauseous German architect who tells his would-be employer straight up that the job is not impossible, but that it will be difficult, time-consuming, and expensive. Mike and Gus are birds of a feather, they’re frank, thorough, and careful, and it means when taking on a project of this size, they want people who’ll treat it the same way.
We know, though, that no matter how cautious Mike and Gus are, how close they come to bringing this long-brewing plan to fruition, that it all ends in ruin. No matter how well you plan, how good you are at what you do, there are unpredictable elements that can disrupt everything. For Gus Fring, that unpredictable element is Walter White, but for Jimmy McGill, it’s Howard Hamlin.
After his incident with the burners and the muggers, Jimmy seems on the straight and narrow again. But then, during a trip to the courthouse to check in as part of his suspension, he runs into Howard in the bathroom, who looks worse for wear. This typically ever-composed individual is out of sorts, looking disheveled, complaining about insomnia, and stressing over a case that he admits isn’t particularly significant. It’s clear -- to both Jimmy and the audience -- that Chuck’s death has gotten to Howard, that’s Kim’s speech landed, that the very thought is torturing him. It’s enough for Jimmy to offer some kindness, recommending the same shrink that Kim passed on to him.
It’s then that the worm turns. Howard tells Jimmy that he’s already seeing a therapist twice a week. It’s startling admission to Jimmy, one that changes his path yet again. Howard has all the advantages Jimmy doesn't -- his wealth, his position, and his father’s name. He has lived as traditionally successful a life as someone like Jimmy could imagine, the kind of life Jimmy was once trying to emulate.
But Howard is haunted by the same grief Jimmy is, and he’s no better for all the more that he has. Howard’s visible unmooring in the wake of the same loss sends a message to Jimmy -- that following the right path, doing what’s expected of you, doing things the normal way, don’t get you where Jimmy wants to go, and don’t seem to make you better either. So when he speaks to the D.A. about his plans after reinstatement, he speaks of wanting to go bigger, go better. His refuge from grief is his refuge from everything -- to follow his talents to their apex until it either makes his dreams come true or leads to his end.
“Quite a Ride” suggests the former rather than the latter. We know the heights that Jimmy will hit: the Saul Goodman billboards and commercials running 24/7, the suitcase full of money, the cheesy but lucrative law office he maintains. But we also know his fall, his paranoid, button-down life as Cinnabon Gene, that requires him to be demure and inconspicuous, the greatest punishment there is for someone like Jimmy.
And maybe “Quite a Ride” suggests and end even beyond there. After Jimmy is laid out by the thugs who rob him, he lays on the ground in pain as the camera pulls back skyward. It’s the same shot Breaking Bad used in Walt’s final moments. It’s a visual echo and a portent, one that seems to preview what a myopic quest to make use of your own greatest talent, regardless of the ethical or practical consequences for you and the people you love, gets you. We know where that sort of quest ended for Walt, and as he veers ever nearer to going full Saul, Jimmy gets a taste of that too.
Better Call Saul has never been closer to Breaking Bad, and that’s bad news for Jimmy McGill.
They spent years in a strange country pretending to fit in, in order to do what was best for their home country. Now they’re “home”, but like Philip says it feels strange. And then Elizabeth tells him, in their native language that they’d been forbidden to use, that they’ll get used to it, just like they did all those years ago in America. No shoot outs. No chase scenes. No deaths. Just a man and a woman realizing they just lost everything they loved.
Mostly a character driven season. If you think of it, so was the first season. So maybe all the "boo hoo season 2 wasn't what I wanted from the show" comments. Are from fans who don't get the show.
The season beautifully built up relationships more. Even if Mike and Eleven didn't have much screen time together. When they finally had scenes, they were what fans were waiting for.
As for being slow at times, so was season 1. I think they have about as much build up.
Justice for Ahmed Best, achieved. Welcome back, Sir.
Had you told me the best of Star wars television is yet to come when I was watching the S2 finale of the Mandalorian, I wouldn't have believed you.
The ending was...disheartening to say the least. But also a very nice set up for a third season.
[7.7/10] This is another episode where I really enjoyed just about everything...except the relationship stuff. Once again, the emotional core of the episode is anchored to the relationship between Eleanor and Chidi, which just has yet to click with me, which means the grand climax here leaves me cold.
But that’s the thing -- I really like most everything else about that part of the episode. D’arcy Carden does amazing work at portraying all of her co-stars. The way she’s able to perfectly capture the specific cadences of characters like Jason and Tahani was impressive, to where it’s easy to forget that it’s not really them as Carden delivers the performance. At the same time, the editors and compositors deserve so many kudos for making it feel totally natural that these were all separate characters interacting in a room together and not just one person green-screened over and over again.
I even like the emotional conceit of the episode -- where Eleanor’s identity crisis turns literally inside the confines of Janet’s void, cracking the place up and making Eleanor transform into other people and forget who she is. Chidi trying to bring her back, avoid intimacy by burying himself in philosophy, and realizing that he knows who Eleanor is and cares about her is a strong concept. And hell, I loved the hell out of the visuals the show used to convey Chidi having his epiphany to the point that it brings both of them back to who they really are. I just don’t really see Chidi and Eleanor as an OTP yet, so it lacked some punch for me.
The other half of the episode was both creative and hilarious though. Bringing in Stephen Merchant to play the head accountant is an inspired bit of casting, and the show managed to deliver a lot of exposition on how the point system works in fun and creative ways. (The beleaguered tone of the “weird sex thing” accountant was a consistent set of laughs.) I enjoyed the revelation that no one has made it to The Good Place in 500 years, and the accountant refusing to accept the notion that there’s anything wrong with that, as it speaks to a certain institutional inertia that works for both comedy and drama. Hell, just imagining the nerve center of the afterlife as a beige-lit cubicle farm, replete with a Neutral Janet is pretty inspired.
And I enjoyed the message of that segment to, with Michael realizing that he keeps looking for an external solution to his problems, someone else to take care of them, when really, he needs to look within himself to starting fixing things rather than waiting for it to happen. Of course, that leads us to yet another reboot and tease, but it’s a promising one, as this show gives us more tantalizing territory to explore.
Overall, I’m still a little leery about how much weight the show is putting on an Eleanor/Chidi relationship that I haven’t bought into yet, but the comedy, creativity, and world-building continues to be superb enough to keep me smiling throughout.
A heartbreaking ending for one of the greatest dramas of all time. Both the garage and the strain scenes are acting masterpieces. Everyone had theories about how the show should end, who would die, but in retrospective it couldn't have ended any diferent. Elizabeth and Philip didn't get caught but they still lost everything. Goodbye Americans, you'll be sorely missed
Nice treatment of the subject of racism in policing, without being heavy-handed or making light as this is a comedy. Really masterful bit of work in a half-hour format!
