[8.7/10] The natural inclination in an episode like this is to go big, to make it loud and exciting and epic. It is the Original Trilogy meeting the Prequel Trilogy meeting Rebels, and so the powers that be could be forgiven for turning that encounter into an epic confrontation, full of fireworks and piss and vinegar.
Instead, “Twin Suns” is a quiet, deliberate, almost melancholy episode. That is a bold choice, one that pays off for Rebels and delivers one of its most meditative, understated episodes in a way that does justice to the various major figures it invokes in the effort.
It opens on the holy site of Star Wars, the deserts of Tatooine. There in the swirling sands, Darth Maul wanders the arid wasteland, searching in vain for his mortal enemy. “Twin Suns” commits to the desolation of the planet. Many times, it frames its character in wide shots, often at a distance, showing how small and insignificant they are on that vast landscape between those dual radiating stars. While there are moments of action, most of the time is spent with the characters wandering through those miles of nothing, contemplating what’s calling them there.
Of course, it’s not enough to just have Maul stalking the specter of Obi Wan, so Ezra Bridger feels the call to Tatooine as well. The reasons for his being there are thin, but adequate. He is, essentially, bait. Maul uses the same visions and hallucinations to draw Ezra to the desert planet so as to put him in danger. If Obi Wan is there, Maul reasons, he’ll be unable to stop himself from emerging to save the day.
So foolhardy Ezra heeds the call, follows the visions, and gets both Chopper and himself lost and desperate amid the sands of Tatooine. Despite the half-plausible excuse, Ezra doesn’t have much of a place in this story. It gives the character a bit of nice material, with deliberately disorienting edits creating his sense of being at a loss and in peril as the amount of time he spends out there remains unclear. But on the whole, his arc, to the extent it exists, is merely a familiar epiphany that he’s turned his back on his newfound family and should return to them rather than taking things on his own.
But it’s the man who offers him that advice who matters. Rebels realizes the Ep. IV-era Obi Wan Kenobi well. The franchise has yet to address the awkward business of bridging the gap between the Ewan McGregor/James Arnold Taylor incarnation of the character, and the version that started it all. But Stephen Stanton (who also voices Tarkin and AP-5), does his best Alec Guiness and it scans as true to one of Star Wars’s founding performances.
The Obi Wan Ezra meets in the desert is of a piece with one Luke meets in A New Hope. The years have blunted the edges of the reserved but adventurous man who fought in the clone wars. In his place is this wise old monk, one who has the zen and worldly perspective that Guiness and George Lucas imbued in the role. Rebels attempts to revive characters who’ve gone unseen since Return of the Jedi have been hit or miss, but kudos belong to Stanton and writers Dave Filoni and Henry Gilroy for capturing the spirit and demeanor of the character we know from Star Wars’s first act.
It’s not, however, inter-generational crossovers and desert-worn wisdom. Obi Wan’s time with Ezra is mercifully short, just enough to give him the lesson he needs and send him on his way before Maul arrives. Maul explains his manipulation in a suitably villainous fashion, and trades insults with Obi Wan as he gears up for a confrontation greatly hyped and long in the making.
When Obi Wan faces Maul, the scene is tense. Maul is inquisitive, probing, challenging his wizened adversary. He sniffs out why Kenobi is on this backwater planet, and the Jedi Master’s eyes subtly react with concern and awareness of what he’s revealed. Only then does Obi Wan ready himself to fight. The two men hold the tension, stand their ground, letting the potential of this grand clash linger in the air before the first, tremendous blow is struck.
Instead, it simply ends before it barely began. A few swift moves is all Obi Wan needs to fell his opponent. He moves slowly but decisively. Anything more would be a betrayal of the warrior we saw in Episode IV. There is mercy in his blade and in the way he cradles Maul in his arms after the deed is done.
But the purpose of that anticlimax is not simply fidelity to the source that began it all. It is a reveal, a demonstration, that these are not the fiery young men who clashed on Naboo. They are not the hardened warriors who met in battle on Mandalore. They are broken down old men, the last of a generation, finishing the last vestiges of conflicts that were already lost before they’d even started.
These are the last gunfighters, drawing one last time, because what else is there to do? As Maul seemingly dies in Obi Wan’s arms, he asks Kenobi if his task is to protect the chosen one. Obi Wan admits it, and Maul says the most curious, revealing words as he leaves the living force – “He will avenge us.”
Maul and Kenobi have stood on opposite sides of the battle lines for decades. They have seen the fall of republics and the rise of empires. They have done this dance across the ages, each taking pounds of flesh from the other. And yet, when the final blow is struck, the clarity of the last light reveals a simple truth. They are both victims of the same tormentor, the same individual who took away all that they had and believed in.
As Star Wars has gone on, it has evolved, showing more shades of gray within the hero’s journey that started with A New Hope. Before that little boy running across the horizon could rise up and strike down the evil that took so much from so many, too many had to suffer, both the good and the bad. The distance between the two seems as small as the distance between Maul and Kenobi. They are the twin suns, intertwined, eternally circling ‘round these same events, pulled by the same force, until they are snuffed out, ready for a new light, a new beacon, to sweep the galaxy, and wipe away their shared regrets, mistakes, and pain.
That was the worst episode in my opinion. It wasn't actually that bad, but it lacked any suspense or surprises the previous episodes had. There was no real twist and the ending seemed a bit over the top. Also, I hated Waldo.
lmao i like the Ed Norton recast joke
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’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.
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!
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).
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!
Justice for Ahmed Best, achieved. Welcome back, Sir.
[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.
I want Bortus to sing My Heart Will Go On
This is the first R&M episode that did nothing for me. The humor felt tired and most of the jokes didn't land.
Not sure if it's just worse than it used to be, or it's just not as fresh to me as it was in seasons 1-2.
An absolutely wonderful beginning. All the spirit of classic Trek, characters that are vibrant, a sense of fun and adventure, and it brings up relevant modern issues like Trek always has. I can't wait to see where we go from here. Anson Mount and Ethan Peck are just brilliant in their roles as we already knew, but the new cast seem to fit immediately too. Celia Rose Gooding in particular captured the vibe of Uhura very well, even though we saw so little of her. And that was a nice little surprise with the Lieutenant at the end.
Loved the scenes with Mando and Bo but although it was awesome to see Coruscant after the fall of the empire, the storyline was stretched out way too long.
Apart from the final stretch that led to the events of the previous episode, I wouldn't change a thing. It was the perfect ending to a great show - for me, one of the greatest.
It's sad to see it go but damn, it was worth every minute spent watching it as well as discussing it.
Hopefully at least one of the spin-offs will come to life a few years down the road and if they manage to capture even a glimpse of the feeling that this one had, it'll be pure nostalgia.
[8.2/10] There is no show on television that threads the needle between symbolism and literalism better than Better Call Saul. Part of the show’s success, and that of its predecessor, stem from the fact that it works equally well as an exciting story as it does a commentary on human nature and what relationships with bad or shady people do to us. No character represents that idea better in “Fall” than Kim Wexler.
The scene with her out on the Texas-New Mexico border to interface with her new client works well as foreshadowing, and as a sign that Kim is trying to take on too much by herself and coming close to suffering for it. When her car gets stuck in the dirt, she has so much going on, another tight deadline to meet to try to make up for Jimmy’s possible shortfall, that she tries to take care of it all herself. She find a nearby board, heaves and pushes on the car until it budges, and panics when it starts heading toward a nearby oil derrick. Only by racing into the driver’s seat and slamming on the breaks at the last minute does she avoid a grisly wreck.
It functions as a sign that Kim is juggling too many balls, that she’s letting small but important details slip, with her car as a particular conduit for this idea, in a way that could come back to bite her.
But it also functions as a larger metaphor for what Kim’s going through with Jimmy. She has a problem of being stuck in the muck herself -- with the threat of Chuck’s machinations to get his brother disbarred and Jimmy’s ensuing suspension putting pressure on her to carry the firm. So Kim does what she always does -- she pushes and pushes and pushes until she can get things moving again. Little does she realize that in all that pushing, she may be headed for disaster, and it’s only her frantic heroics that allow her narrowly avoid it. Sooner or later, those heroics will come up short, sooner or later, trying to expend all of her efforts to keep Jimmy out of that muck will backfire on her. It’s only so long that she can go to such lengths and avoid that crash.
Everyone’s hustling hard to avoid a crash in “Fall,” though most of the plots of the episode involve financial decisions rather than ones involving dirt and chrome. That includes Mike who, in a brief scene, does his due diligence with Lydia to make sure he’s putting his name down with the right people, but it also includes Jimmy, who is pushing hard to speed up the timing of his payment from the Sandpiper case.
To that end, he finds roundabout ways of putting pressure on Irene, the named plaintiff, in settling the case so that he gets his percentage of the common fund. That means, plying her with cookies to take a look at the latest letters advising her as to the status of the case. It means giving her a free pair of walking shoes to make her look like a big spender. And it means going so far as to rig a bingo game to make it look like fortune keeps smiling upon her at the expense of all her friends and erstwhile well-wishers.
Many of these sequences are funny. It’s amusing to see Jimmy decked out in full mall-walker gear as he puts in plan into motion. There’s something undeniably entertaining about Jimmy being ensconsced in a spirited session of chair yoga when turning Irene’s friends against her. And it’s enjoyably silly hearing him play “let’s you and him fight” while playing innocent in the Sandpiper lobby. There is a prosaic quality to Jimmy’s treachery here, and his million dollar payday requiring him to hobnob with a pack of old ladies creates a certain amount of inherent farce.
But it also brings a cruelty, a cavalier and callous quality to the story. Jimmy is not entirely without scruples – there is a moment of hesitation, a momentary wince, when he sets the rigged bingo balls into the chamber – but in the end he’s willing to turn poor, innocent Irene into an outcast, to leave her crying in a back room from the ostracism, to get what he wants. That’s who Jimmy is. When he’s in a tight spot, it doesn’t matter that this is someone who is kind to him, who trusts him, who was his key to getting the Sandpiper case in the first place – he wants what he wants and he’ll do what he needs to do to get it, regardless of how dishonest, crafty, or cruel he has to be to do it.
The same, appropriately enough, is true for Chuck in “Fall.” When the malpractice insurance providers show up and declare that they’ll double the premiums on every lawyer in the firm so long as Chuck is in practice there. Chuck vows to see them in court, and Howard, initially kindly and then more forcefully, suggests that Chuck ought to retire. Howard tells his partner that there’s a place for him at the local law school, and less gently, that he no longer trusts Chuck’s judgment.
It’s easy to see Howard as just as mercenary as anyone here (including Jimmy, whom Howard accuses of being like Golem as he tries to move a settlement along), but he’s not wrong. Chuck seems to legitimately be a great legal mind, and he genuinely appears to be getting better, but he has his vendettas, his blindspots, his irregularities that, understandable or not, have made him a liability to the firm he helped create. It’s hard to accuse Howard of any sort of altruism in this, but he’s been supportive of Chuck, stood by him, and it’s not unreasonable for him to reflect and say that Chuck is doing more harm than good to the company that bears his name.
But Chuck doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t care about outrageous premiums or putting his firm’s good name on the line as part of a byzantine plan to catch his brother in the act, or even about destroying his firm by trying to cash out his share. He puts on a show for Howard, one that sees him having turned the lights on and used an electric mixer to try to puff himself up in front of a friend-turned-adversary, to show Howard that he is not the crazy man who ranted and raved on the stand but a sharp thinker making great strides who can either be a vital asset or a one-man poison pill depending on which side Howard chooses.
That’s the thing about Chuck, and his brother for that matter. They are willing to destroy, or threaten to destroy, the lives and livelihoods of the people around them to achieve their own goals, and damn the consequences. (Those consequences may, providently enough, make Howard more likely to want to settle the Sandpiper case in order to have some liquidity and cash on hand.) Even the people close to them, who have helped them and looked out for them, are not immune from suffering in their wake.
That catches up with Kim in the end. She can’t celebrate with a miffed Jimmy when he brings in a fancy bottle of booze in honor of his scheme to prompt a settlement working, because she has to do much to do to try to cover his behind. There’s been hints that her efforts to do it all herself rather than deal with her lingering concerns about Jimmy were going to hurt. There’s the five-minute naps in the car before meetings at Mesa Verde. There’s the near-miss out at the oil derrick. There’s other instances where simply being proximate to all this mess has put Kim in harm’s way.
As always, the show shoots it beautifully. There’s something quietly ominous about the silence in the car after Kim rehearses her speech. The scenery outside the window starts to fade away. Suddenly, in a blink, the accident hits. She moans in pain as she pulls herself from the wreckage. Her carefully-crafted binders blow away in the wind. Smoke billows into the austere New Mexico landscape as she surveys the tumble of metal and legal documents before her. This is, despite all her efforts, despite all her attempts to carry everything on her own back, something unavoidable.
That’s the rub of “Fall” and of Better Call Saul. Except when facing one another, the McGill brothers almost always get what they want. They know how to work the system, to tilt things in their favor, to intimidate or challenge or call the bluff of whomever is standing in their way. And because of that, they rarely suffer.
But the people around them do. The people who care about them, who try to help them, who do anything to tarnish their pride or their patience end up worse for being in the unfortunate orbit of these two men, just as Nacho’s father is worse for his son’s association with the Salamancas. It’s never Jimmy or Chuck who has to face the consequences, has to stomach the hardships of their failings or difficulties -- it’s the poor old lady made a pariah so that Jimmy can have a payday, it’s the man who stood by Chuck until it threatened to destroy his firm, and it’s the smart, decent woman who became Jimmy’s confidante, accomplice, and caretaker, straining to keep the two of them from ruin, and finding herself asleep at the wheel, surrounded by crushed chrome and the detritus of her meticulous work.
There is no escaping the McGill brothers. There is no fixing them or correcting them or saving them. There is only the doomed efforts that emerge in their wake, that inevitably end in a crash.
“Well they’re all back together. I hope I survive long enough to see the outcome.” Best line. Love DT
An exceptional episode. It kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time. The scenes in orbit were just breathtaking and also the scene on the moon when Ed meets the Russian Cosmonaut. How intense was that. This has blockbuster quality. And finally the ending was completely unexpected for me. This surely will have dire consequences.
[8.7/10] I’m not sure I’ve seen a show re-pilot so successfully before. The way this episode told and retold all the events of Version 2 of The (Faux) Good Place from so many different perspectives was masterful, and helped give us continuing insight into how each of the characters work.
I was particularly impressed at the branching narrative of the episode, which took care to use the same basic events to springboard from one character’s story to another, and reveal their inner “themness” even when pointed in a different direction.
It’s particularly neat how Michael calculated to make each new situation even more miserable than they were in the last simulation. Eleanor has to give speeches and face the guilt of being crowned (well, sashed) as “best person.” Indecisive Chidi has to deal with the incredible difficulty of choosing his soulmate, and then has to deal with the fomo and regret of likely ending up with the wrong person. Tahani has to deal with difficulties that are frivolous, but nevertheless bother her, making her upset about things she shouldn’t be upset about like the size of her house or the height of her soulmate or the having to wear cargo shorts, and torturing her even further because she can’t reasonably complain about them. And Jason, who enjoys being able to be his real self in his “bud hole” has to live with a complimentary baby sitter there to ensure he lives the quiet life.
It reveals Michael’s, and the show’s, great understanding of these characters, knowing exactly how to twist the screws on them in creative ways that really seize on the things that will truly bother them.
It’s also really interesting getting to see behind the curtain of the demigods/demons/whatever in charge of the torturing. The fact that Michael is on his last chance here, and risks “retirement” if he fails, creates stakes for him as a character too, and the fact that he tries to slip the fact that he failed under the rug in front of his boss produces a ticking time bomb that will no doubt go off halfway through the season.
It’s also fun seeing the “actors” struggle with their parts. Real Eleanor (whose real name, I think, is Vicky) being perturbed at how she’s been demoted in the narrative, going so far as to create a limp and a backstory is amusing. Details like the bearded guy being so interested in biting, or Eleanor’s “soulmate” constantly going to the gym, or other folks just not understanding why they can’t resort to regular torture gives Michael the beleaguered middle manager vibe trying to wrangle all his unruly employees, which is an amusing look. The overall comedy for the show even seems to have improved.
Plus, the episode is propelled by Eleanor’s discovery of her note and attempt to piece the mystery together. I have to say I’m impressed that the show didn’t use the note and the investigation to fuel the second season as a whole. But turning it into a quick turnaround case-solve for Eleanor just creates more possibilities going forward. Joss Whedon is known to have said “play your cards early, it makes you come up with more cards,” and with this sort of virtuoso episode, I’m excited to see what new cards The Good Place comes up with in its second season.
Knowing that Ahsoka survives through the fall of the Empire is incredibly heartwarming. It's been quite the journey following her over the past 10 years.
[9.0/10] Best Twin Peaks episode ever? Because I think this might be the best Twin Peaks episode ever.
What makes it so great, you ask? Or so much better than other Twin Peaks episodes.
Well, first off, it was almost all Cooper. The episode starts off with The Bad Dale luring his (officially confirmed) son to a set of coordinates he’s been given twice, and turns Richard Horne into his guinea pig. It’s just the latest abuse of a parent against a child in Twin Peaks, and the callousness with which Mr. C lures his offspring to the top of that rock, only to respond dispassionately when he’s zapped to bits (a trap laid by Phillip Jeffries?) speaks to the depth of the uncaring evil that lurks within Dark Dale.
And wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, there was a bloody point to the whole Jerry Horne getting lost in the woods bit of (seeming) nonsense! Or at least a payoff to it! He’s there to witness his own grand-nephew’s demise at the hands of a man who at least looks an awful like Agent Cooper. While he chastises the binoculars for what he saw with them in a sort of strange, not particularly funny manner, the fact that there was a point to his presence in this narrative at all is kind of amazing.
That’s another facet of what made this episode great -- payoff. After so many teases, so much stumbling around and going down detours, Twin Peaks actually gets down to brass tax and advances the major parts of the story. After fifteen long episodes of waiting, the real Dale Cooper is back in business, and it’s an absolute thrill. I could do without the old Twin Peaks score being piped in for his dramatic return (call me a heretic, I’ve never cared for Angelo Badalamenti’s work on the show) seeing The Good Dale back in action again is great.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved the escapades of Dougie, but seeing the good-hearted and competent man take charge of the situation, see the hearts of gold in bosses, kids, and gangasters alike, and confidently race his way to a Casino rendezvous to get to Twin Peaks is a hell of a catharsis after all the trekking it took to get him there. MacLachlan hasn’t lost a step, instantly summoning the old special agent (I nearly fistpumped when he said “I am the FBI”) and bringing him to life once more.
But another element that makes this episode great is not just that Cooper returns, it’s that he returns with the combination of joy and sadness that would naturally follow from this bizarre situation. Twin Peaks has rarely been heartwarming for me -- with its attempts at that vein of sentiment tending to fall flat. But Cooper telling Janey and Sonny Jim that his heart is full from the time he spent with them, and his deal with Mike to make another copy to give the two of them their Dougie back, are the acts of the kind-hearted, decent man that Coop always was.
Still, there’s pathos in that moment, because unwittingly or not, The Good Dale has turned the lives of the Joneses around. He’s solved their problems, financial or otherwise. Fulfilled Janey’s needs as a husband and Sonny Jim’s as a father. Intuitively or not, the Joneses realize they’re losing him, that they’re going back to the overweight, gambling, prostitute-visiting man they lived with before. (Though who knows, maybe Mike can make a better man this time.) The last hug among them, the last kiss between “Dougie” and Janey has meaning because what we as the audience have gained with Cooper’s return is someone else’s loss.
That said, the other reaction-based facet of “Part Sixteen” that sets this installment apart (and, if I’m being a bit snarky, sets it apart from much of Twin Peaks) is that it’s really damn funny. I just loved the scene featuring the standoff between Tim Roth, Jennifer Jason Leigh, and the machine gun-wielding neighbor annoyed that they’re blocking his driveway. There’s such an incredible rhythm and absurdity to the scene, with the FBI staking out the Jones’s house, the Mitchums coming to deliver food, and the neighbor casually interfering in this confluence of gangsters and law enforcement.
And, once more, through no action of his own, a threat to Dougie Jones’s life goes away. There’s is something so delightfully insane about that, the way that problems keep solving themselves, suggesting some form of providence or at least a universe filled with gods with a wry sense of humor. It’s appropriate that that unmarked van reunited two stars of The Hateful Eight because there’s a Tarantino-esque mix of bulletfire, coincidence, and dry remarks that made this a stand out scene among stand out scenes. Hell, even the dialogue was great, with one of the Mitchum’s remarking “people are very stressed these days” and some great reactions from Jim Belushi of all people, both to that line and the explanation for where Cooper comes from.
It’s not all smiles and catharsis though. We get a tense, well-done scene from Dianne, revealing what happened between her and The Bad Dale that fateful night. Only an actor the caliber of Laura Dern could pull off having to command and convey the meaning of a monologue like that and not have it seem overwrought or maudlin. The reveal that not only did Mr. C sexually assault Dianne, but that she too is “manufacture” like Dougie was is a startling one, and Dern owns it the whole way through, wrestling with the realization of what she is and what was done to her. The fact that she give Mike a defiant “fuck you” on her way out is the icing on the cake.
And last but not least, we even get a payoff (or at least the hint of one) for why the goings on with Audrey have been so bizarre over the last few episodes. Whether she’s in a coma or another realm or something else entirely, it seems like she’s not in a real place, instead trapped somewhere that makes her realizes why she’s been feeling unlike herself, why nothing feels right. It gives the show a chance to have Audrey reprise her famous dance, and the strangeness of what seems like the usual episode-ending musical number turning into swinging, swaying tribute to her sultry sashay of old works wonderfully.
That musical fake out even works well, as Eddie Vedder (using an odd stage name) warbles out a topical tune about having lost who you were and being unable to get it back. Cooper has lost twenty-five years of his life, Audrey may have lost the same, and the Joneses are losing something too. But maybe, just maybe, something good is around the corner, whether at the local sheriff’s station or elsewhere. If Twin Peaks can deliver something this great, anything’s possible.
Truly epic. One of the best things to bear the Star Trek name, both a love letter and a thank you to the fans who've remained loyal thru the last three plus decades.
[8.1/10] Ahhh, it’s so great to be back in Avatar Land! Katara is still around! And she’s in the White Lotus Society! And she and Aang had three kids! And her son is the new Avatar’s airbending teacher! And he’s voiced by J.K. Simmons! And he has three kids of his own who seem to have Aang’s occasionally pestersome exuberance! And Toph has a daughter who’s tough as nails! And there’s whole squads of metal-benders now! And the four kingdoms have been unified into one united republic! To paraphrase Bart Simpson, “Overload! Excitement overload!”
But that’s just the stuff that ties into Avatar: The Last Airbender. What I really appreciate about The Legend of Korra’s first episode, is that it gives enough details and connections to its predecessor series to excite AtLA fans like me, but it’s still seems different and new and exciting and doing its own thing.
For one thing, Korra is not Aang. She is headstrong in a way that Aang isn’t really. Aang could be reckless and eager, but was rarely as bold and impulsive as Korra seems in the show’s opening installment. (I loved her “I’m the Avatar. Deal with it!” introduction.) Living in a more integrated society, she’s already mastered three of the four elements (earth, fire, and water). She’s very much of this time, not a relic of a century ago, but also very new to the ecosystem of Republic City.
That’s the great thing about the series premiere -- it’s familiar while still being novel. Korra’s quest isn’t as clear as Aang’s was in the early going. There’s no evil Firelord, no hunded years war, no step-by-step set of elements to master in time. There’s just one more element to learn, a complex city and society, and a young avatar who admits that she doesn’t really have a plan.
That’s wonderful! There’s such a sense of possibility to the series right out of the gate. I love the promise that Republic City holds. The world of Avatar has jumped several decades in the future, to where the vibe of the new metropolis is something approaching 1920s or 1930s New York. There are radios and cars and omnipresent dirigibles in the sky that mark this as something different than the feudal-type era depicted in AtLA.
There’s also just enough hints of bigger troubles in the city to whet one’s appetite for more. For one thing, I really like the notion that there’s a group out there that opposes all benders and views the use of their powers as a form of oppression. It’s a natural move for a franchise that’s always used its supernatural premise as a metaphor for societal issues. LoK introduces Republic City as a sort of utopia at first, with tall buildings and a buzz of activity, but quickly hints that not all’s well in the capital of the new republic forged by Aang and the rest of Team Avatar.
That comes through (and dovetails nicely with the anti-bender activists) when Korra breaks up a protection racket by a “Triad” gang of three guys who use their powers to harass a shopkeep. Korra, being the naturally protective and good avatar-in-training that she is, comes to their rescue, and the fact that these mobs exist, and that the cops arrest first and (under the auspices of Toph’s daughter) ask questions later, and that Tenzin says as much suggests that there are problems in Republic City despite its shiny exterior.
But what an exterior! It’s nice to see the world of Avatar depicted in beautiful HD. The elemental effects are just gorgeous, and there’s a fluidity to the way that Korra and others unleash their powers that even AtLA couldn’t always match. The animation seems to have stepped up a notch. At the same time, the design work is stellar. The bustling city at the center of the episode is remarkable and full of life, and everything from the statue of Aang in a nearby harbor to the glow of the underground quarters of the water tribe mark a distinctive, beautiful look for the whole place.
Of course, this being set in Avatar land, our hero has to answer the call to adventure. While the show belabors the passing of the torch idea with Katara a bit (who’s voiced by Eva Marie Saint of North by Northwest fame, it’s still feels true to the spirit of the franchise to have our hero set out despite being told not to. Katara’s polar bear dog (or is it some other hybrid) is a nicely cute animal sidekick in the proud tradition of Appa. And her misadventures in Republic City as a fish out of water make for a nice introduction to the new world.
There’s so much to unpack here, but really, that’s what makes “Welcome to Republic City” so exciting. There is just enough gestures toward the prior series to warm the hearts of those who watched Aang and company defeat Ozai. But it doesn’t feel like a rehash either, with the time jump and the change in circumstance inviting the devoted viewer to piece together what’s happened in the intervening seventy years and marvel at what’s to come.
I don’t know what I expected from the premiere of Legend of Korra exactly. Sequel series are tricky things. You have to feel of a piece with what came before without feeling derivative. “Welcome to Republic City” masters that balance beautifully. Korra feels fully formed and distinctive right out of the gate. The world of the New Republic seems ripe of exploration and new details just as the Four Kingdoms once did. And there is a new type of challenge, a new threat, new friends and foes to explore and discover.
We’ll see where Korra goes from here, whom she fights and whom she takes on as allies and where her journey to becoming the avatar and helping to realize Aang’s dream takes her. But for now, it’s more than enough to dive back into Avatar land, gawk at the new sights and developments that have unspooled in the last seven decades, and wait with enthusiasm for what’s yet to come.
An okay start to the final season, but a bit disappointing. In particular, I have to question why they spent over 12 minutes on digging up William's grave there at the end. It's obvious what the goal was, but did we have to see all of that? Dig, dig, dig. Shovel, shovel, shovel. Not the sort of thing that puts the "thrill" in "thriller."
That was in parts extremly dark and gruesome. But it is countered by a very positive final scene.
So, that were basically the first Stormtroopers ? It will be interesting to see that transition.
9.3/10. So much great, big time stuff in this one. As I've said in the past, there's something about these sort of operatic, mythology-heavy episodes that I really connect with. In a number of ways Star Wars has always been a franchise about big myths and spirituality made tangible. Leaning into that feels true to the core of the series. And it's hard not to be excited by things like prophecies and dire warnings and visits from old friends.
That starts with Kanan, who faces his own trials a la Luke on Dagobah to become a Jedi Knight. Admittedly, it's a bit of a cheat, but seeing The Grand Inquisitor (and learning that he used to be a Jedi) is a nice way to give impact and authority to the moment beyond the change in rank. I appreciated that, like Ezra, his trial had to do with accepting difficult truths, that no matter how hard he tried to protect and encourage Ezra, things could still go wrong; his pupil could still be tempted by the dark side, and he might perish in the effort. It's been Kanan's greatest insecurity for a while now -- that he's not a good enough teacher. But Kanan accepts that all he can do is train and guide Ezra as best he can and the rest is up to him. It's a nice form of acceptance and the key to his ascending to becoming a full Jedi, earning a bit of redemption from his wild and wooly days in the process.
It's also nice to see Yoda again. (I mean that figuratively -- literally his model looks off from both his Clone Wars model and the version of him from the films. It would be jarring if it weren't for Frank Oz's voice.) He follows up on his lesson with Ezra from last time, saying that one need not be without fear, but rather that even he, the wise and admired Jedi Master among masters, had to fight not to give into fear throughout his life. I loved Ahsoka's description of Yoda, as someone she spoke with but never really felt like she knew, that she wasn't sure if anyone knew. The way she speaks of him as carrying a certain sadness, of knowing what having been drawn into the fighting of the Clone Wars did to him and how he foresaw the end of one age and the start of another fits (albeit a little haphazardly) with what we saw from him in The Clone Wars series.
That ties into Ezra's conversation with him about whether to fight or not. The idea of finding Malachor works as a good story engine for the future, but more than anything, it's nice to see this philosophical side of Star Wars represented, with Yoda and Ezra debating the morality of this spiritual masters using their abilities to commit violence, even if they believe their cause is just. Sure, a lot of it is fairly rudimentary, but it's still surprisingly complex for a kids' show.
We even get some cool moments with The Inquisitors that hints at some greater depth for them too. The conversation between Kanan and the Seventh Sister suggests some kind of history. (That said, she's weirdly flirty with almost everyone, and I may be projecting based on the fact that the voice actors are married in real life.) The cold open with the two-on-two battle between Kanan and Ezra and The Inquisitors was nicely done. I appreciate how the Seventh Sister is portrayed as clever and unorthodox, with details like her using her droid in battle or being able to sniff out the rebels in the Jedi temple. There's a sense that she's a formidable opponent in a way that the Fifth Brother isn't, and it takes the ingenuity of Ezra connecting mentally with bat creatures (animal telepathy apparently becoming his specialty) to escape her.
They also have their own mystical experience inside the temple. The fact that they face the Inquisitor is interesting, though I'm not sure it really means anything short of a cool moment and an excuse for why our heroes escape. They also, of course, alert Vader to the existence of the temple, which leads to his first presence since the mini-film that opened the season. Hearing James Earl Jones in the role is still powerful, and makes the character's presence as chilling as ever.
But the absolute highlight for me, in an episode that had plenty of them, was Ahsoka’s part of it. “Shroud of Darkness” shows Ahsoka grappling with regret and self-questioning over leaving the order. The fact that she doesn’t want to participate in the ritual to open the door to the temple on Lothal, because since she’s not a Jedi it wouldn’t be right, hints at that from the show’s early going. At the same time, the fact that she’s watching a holocron of Anakin demonstrating forms and reminiscing about him hints at how her old master is still on her mind.
These little hints culminate in the most powerful moment in the episode, and possibly the series thus far. It hit me like a ton of bricks when a vision of Anakin appeared to chastise Ahsoka. In the Star Wars franchise, these temples have been about facing your greatest fears, the things that eat away at your soul and spirit in the hopes that you can overcome them. So hearing Anakin call Ahsoka selfish for leaving the order reveals her deepest insecurities – the question of whether leaving the Jedi was right.
That question is given greater power if you’ve seen the episodes of The Clone Wars where Ahsoka leaves the order, and you understand the circumstances under which she made that decision. It’s also given power by the show bringing back Matt Lanter to voice Anakin, giving his words more weight. And it’s especially affecting if you’ve watched the whole of The Clone Wars, and seen the connection between Ahsoka and Anakin grow and develop over the course of dozens of adventures and years of stories.
That’s why the most devastating moment comes when the vision of Anakin reprimands Ahsoka for leaving and asks if she knows what happened to him after she left, if she knows what he became. The ghostly image of Anakin is powerful on its own, but the camera focuses on Ahsoka’s eyes for a moment, showing the emotion of the moment for her, and then cuts back. In place of Anakin there is Vader, and the heartbreaking realization emerges – Ahsoka blames herself for Anakin’s descent.
After she made that connection with Vader, she hasn’t just been mourning what amounts to the loss of her friend or being in shock at the realization that the man she looked up to and learned from has become this monster. She’s been tearing herself up with the idea that she could have prevented this, that if she had stayed, been there to help and support Anakin during the events of Revenge of the Sith, that she could have saved him, prevented him from becoming this twisted creature, maybe prevented all of the Empire’s horrors from coming to pass.
That is a terrible weight to carry on one’s shoulders. Unlike with Ezra and Kanan, we don’t see Ahsoka overcoming this fear or accepting that she can’t control what will happen next. The closest we get is a brief reunion between her and the vision of Yoda, a gentle wave that suggests he’s looking out for her, and perhaps there is an answer
.
Guilt is one of those emotions that can be hard to reckon with. It is resistant to logic, more a feeling that cannot be escaped when a terrible thing happens, even if there’s nothing that could have been done to prevent it. The very fact that a terrible thing happens, especially to someone close to us, elicits that feeling within us. We lament the result and thus anoint ourself the causer of it, to our own misery and sometimes even ruin.
There’s a great pathos in Ahsoka blaming herself for her master’s turn to the dark side. When we see Kanan fight against the visions of the temple guards, we see his fears manifested – that he’s creating the next Vader, the next powerful being who will use the connection to the force to terrorize the galaxy and kill.
But in Ahsoka, we see that fear realized. She has to confront the idea that someone she cared for, someone she believed in, someone she loved as a parent and a brother, became something she doesn’t recognize, that horrifies her, and she cannot help but wonder if she might have been able to stop it. Ahsoka herself was betrayed by the Jedi, and managed, as far as we know, to stay good, to fight for the ideals she was taught even without the guidance of her former master.
Maybe, however, Anakin needed her more than she needed him, as a friend beyond Obi Wan to help keep him sane and steady. Neither she nor we can know if she might have helped. Instead, she is haunted by who Anakin was, who Darth Vader is, and the thought that perhaps, if she had made a different choice, she might have saved him.
Another brilliant episode. Doing something right for season 5.
