For the love if shit, people. Without the first 3 episodes we wouldn't have this episode. Without the first 3 episodes this one wouldn't be as impactful. It's storytelling and all part of a larger whole. Stop saying, "finally we're getting somewhere," or "this is what the show should have been from the start." Its a journey. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. Holy shit.
[4.6/10] If I could make one rule for Westworld and only one rule, it would be this -- no more twists. This series is addicted to pulling the rug out from under its audience, trying to pull a fast one to make viewers say “whoa”, or otherwise recontextualize everything they’ve seen so far, that it’s completely damaging to its attempts to tell stories, establish character, and convey meaning. When everything the audience sees is just a setup for a subversion, none of it matters, and the viewer is left with nothing to do but wait for the punchline.
So let’s just hit a sampling of the twists that show up in “Crisis Theory”, the finale of the show’s third season: All of the modern hosts were originally based off of Dolores. Serac is a puppet being controlled by Rehoboam. Dolores and Caleb didn’t meet by chance, but because Dolores selected him after his brain was scanned in a Delos soldier training exercise. The real(?) William is dead and is being replaced by a host duplicate. Hale has commandeered Dolores’s tools and people and is planning her own robo-revolution.
But the biggest one is this -- Dolores isn’t trying to destroy humanity; she’s just trying to give it free will, the sort of free will she had to fight and claw for. She picked Caleb not because of his capacity for violence, but because of his ability to choose and his willingness to show mercy, even when he didn’t have to.
That is trite, but at least it’s positive. It’s a weird left turn after so long fumfering about everyone’s cruelty. Caleb is not part of some devious extinction plot. Maeve will fight for a cause greater than just reunion with her daughter. Instead, they both choose to undo the shackles on humanity with the belief that what results can be beautiful and that beauty should be preserved.
The problems with this message are two-fold. First and foremost, “Crisis Theory” dramatizes it with an endless series of absolutely mind-numbing, on-the-nose monologues. For all the faux-profundity the show aspires to, the language it uses scans like half-formed action movie dialogue in the dull ten minutes before the special effects budget kicks in, only stretched out over forty-five minutes. There is no point too small, no observation too mundane, no moral too obvious, that Westworld can’t turn it into some ponderous B.S. speech that gilds the lily to the point of exhaustion.
The second is that this message about creative destruction feels contradictory and hopelessly naive. The message is that Rehoboam is a palliative that delayed the fall of civilization, but that like Westworld itself, civilization needs to burn in order for something better, less oppressive, and less asphyxiating, to emerge from the ashes. I wouldn’t exactly call that idea dangerous, but it smacks of someone who took their first semester poli sci class and declares “this is all too complicated, what we really need is to just start a revolution!” It’s facile and cliché, two words that, unfortunately, apply to most of Westworld’s brand of philosophy.
It also goes against what the show itself, and its quasi-omniscient A.I., suggest as the consequence of this move. There’s something fair, if conventional, about the show examining the safe but suffocating order versus chaotic but authentic freedom dichotomy and landing on the latter. But this very episode predicts widespread death and destruction, possibly to the point of extinction. At best, you can chalk this up to Dolores connecting with Rehoboam and understanding that this is, at the very least, not a certainty, or believing that spilled blood is the cost of liberty, but the episode just glosses over a pretty big caveat to this whole outrageous freedom idea.
Beyond the twists, beyond the dime store existentialism the show’s been toying with from the beginning, that sort of tack shows once again the grim truth about Westworld -- that’s a vacuous show that thinks it’s smart. The great innovation of season 3 is that, in its best stretches, this series stopped pretending that it had Important Things to Say:tm: or that its plotlines made real sense, and just became entertaining, high class pulp.
If I made the rules, Westworld would lean into that and lean into it hard. Setting loose a bunch of talented actors, to look impossibly stylish, match wits and weapons with one another, and cross and double-cross each other with impeccable direction, locations, production design, is well within this series’s grasp to do. When the show stops aiming for a profundity it can’t hit anymore; it is still a fun, slick production worth enjoying for its shallow charms. If that was the show we got on a week-to-week basis, it might not turn into a favorite, but it would least have its appeal as quasi-cinematic sci-fi brain candy to fall back on each episode.
But I don’t make the rules, and maybe it’s too late for them anyway. Maybe Westworld is just irrevocably broken. You can only throw twist after twist at the audience for so long that even good, meat and potatoes storytelling becomes meaningless. You can only let your characters drift so far away from themselves, recontextualize them and recongifgure again and again, before the audience loses all attachment to them. You can only throw so many empty platitudes out there to rot and fester before you reveal your show as trite and intellectually bankrupt.
In season 3, Westworld left the park and ventured into the real world. That was the last barrier for it to cross, the last lingering shred of intriguing possibility from its original premise, and in just eight episodes, the series has already exhausted it. Where is there for the show to go from here? What desperate attempt to top themselves could the creators pull out of their increasingly barren hats? Who’s left standing in the cast with a point and a purpose that hasn’t been muddled and revived and made into an utter hash of a character?
The answer is nowhere, none, and no one. In just twenty-eight episode, Westworld has outlived its premise, outstripped its abilities, and outlasted its usefulness as a television show. Nothing in this series stays dead for long, and a renewal has already been secured, But if artistic achievement were the standard for success rather than bankrolls and buzz, the series would be sent to the Valley Beyond and never allowed to sully its own misspent potential again.
[8.0/10] Easily the best episode of the series so far. I really enjoyed the glimpse we get of Will and Deanna -- happy enough that it feels like a nice grace note to their story in TNG, but with enough loss involved to make it something other than a wish-fulfillment happy ending for them.
But what I like even better is that this stop is more than just fanservice with some familiar faces. The show uses Picard's connection to his old officers, and Soji's budding bond with their daughter, to make the Riker family a bridge between Picard and Soji. Reminding Picard that he needs to be patient and kind to earn someone's trust and that fighting the good fight is what keeps him feeling alive, while Troi and Kestra show Soji that she has value regardless of whether she's "real" and that he can be trusted, is a really great way to use these cameos.
The Jurati/Raffi/Rios stuff back on La Sirena is a lot less successful. If nothing else, I appreciate the plot mechanics of Narek being able to track them using the pill Jurati takes in the flashback. But I'm still super confused as to the shape of Jurati's motivation here. I get that she's afraid of a Synth uprising thanks to the mindmeld, but why and how does that lead her to kill Maddox and what's her objective? It also feels a little dumb that Raffi and Rios don't really catch on. Still, there's intrigue in the idea that she's willing to go into a coma to try to detach herself from her Zhat Vash handlers now that she's having second thoughts.
The weirdest part of the episode is the Elnor/Hugh/Narissa stuff. The fight was pretty cool (even if I'm still tired of Narissa's hammy Bond villain routine), and the show piqued my interest with the quick rapport between Hugh and Elnor. But then why the hell did the show (seemingly) kill off Hugh five minutes later? It's another disappointing and abrupt end for a legacy character. (Justice for Hugh and Icheb!)
Still, the Picard/Soji/Riker family stuff is so good that it makes up for the other parts of the episode. Picard's scenes with each members of the family are great. His and Riker's dynamic in particular is so warm and familiar in the best way. And holy hell, Marina Sirtis gives her best performance in all of Star Trek here! The layers to her conversations with Picard and Soji are so good!
Overall, this one has its problems away from Nepenthe, but when it's at the Riker homestead, things are really good and nicely manage to make a feel-good TNG cameo into something more meaningful and relevant to this show's characters and the story at hand.
"Directed by Jonathan Frakes". Guest stars aren't always in front of the camera :)
Also, Charlize Theron <3
Up next, Natalie Portman? Besides the episode itself, guest stars are becoming something to look forward in "The Orville".
This show has turned up to be quite a pleasant surprise, it's undeniably very "Star Trek" at heart. It feels odd to admit that, as a Star Trek fan, I'm actually enjoying this more than "Star Trek: Discovery".
Ahhhhhh i’m so happy they are not shying away from the tough conversations on what it means to be Captain America in this decade. I love symbolism in storytelling and there’s no stronger symbol than that shield, and the way they have used it as a vehicle and representative of the different American identities (good and (really) bad) has been incredible.
Steve Rogers, John Walker, Sam Wilson and Isaiah Bradley all represent sides of the US that co-exist, and John Walker being the effective Captain America for most of this show isn’t accidental - he’s the side of America that’s most present and salient right now (in the world off the screen), but ending the show with Sam Wilson carrying that shield - and going through all the issues that that might bring up - is as powerful a message as any - one of hope and of what the US should aspire to be. Steve Rogers is no longer enough, Steve Rogers is the American Dream - Isaiah Bradley the American Reality - and Sam Wilson is both. This show, and all of Captain America’s storyline, is about so much more than just men in spandex and they’ve done a fantastic job taking it even further here. Glad Marvel is still delivering after so many years, makes me proud to be a fan!
Naomi was super annoying in this episode...it’s like writer of her lines thought he/she was gods gift to the universe & wanted to preach through Naomi’s lines/scenes.
I got so nostalgic while watching this episode, reminiscing about Data and Tasha...
Already one of my favourite episodes from The Orville, this one was a beautiful take on the classic theme of love between a human and a machine. Where does the programming end and love starts? Truly an episode that will linger in our minds quite some time after watching it, there's a lot to think about.
On the downside of things, I was sad that we lost the chance of having Tom Selleck as a regular aboard The Orville.
They are, indeed, the weirdest ship in the fleet.
I've been enjoying this show quite a bit. The mix of sci-fi and Seth's kind of humor is pretty good imho.
In this episode though, I was severely annoyed by Dr. Finn stabbing Drogen - the guy hadn't done anything to hurt or threaten her, and she just stabs him, instead of knocking him out. Then he came at her with the knife and she shot him; that's more "fair", I suppose. Then later, she tells Ty to set the phaser (?) on stun, because "They may not value life, but we do." And she's the friggin' doctor!
[8.7/10] It's a stellar season premiere. I really enjoyed three themes in particular that flitted throughout the episode.
The first is the notion of homecoming. Arya beckons all the Freys to return to their family home in order to slaughter them. Jon returns the family homes to the survivng members of the northern families who betrayed him, and last but certainly not least, Dany returns to the place where she was born. There is a sacredness in return, in where a person is from, that GoT recognizes and plays around with.
The second is the notion of guilt, something that comes through in Arya's conversation with the run-of-the-mill soldiers she meets in the Riverlands. One of them speaks of hoping his wife had a baby girl, because girls take care of their fathers while boys go off to die in another man's war. There's a look on Arya's face, one that seems to reveal a lament that she'll never get to take care of her father, and that her victims may just as easily be lowborn who no more wanted to fight and die than Arya wanted to see her family killed.
There's a parallel with The Hound's portion of the episode there too, where he sees the corpses of the farmer and child he mugged back in Season 4, and can't help but feel guilt at the actions that if not caused, then at least contributed to their demise. This is a different Sandor Clegane, one who buries the people he did wrong, who believes in things, and even if he doesn't know the right words, gives them a eulogy that serves as an apology.
The third is the idea of perspective. Most of the players in the episode are concerned with who will sit on the Iron Throne. Jon is wrapped up in fighting the Night King. And Arya's on her rooaring rampage of revenge. But when Sam is caught up in the same struggle, the Archmaester (Jim Broadbent!) cautions perspective, that this too shall pass, and that there are certain things worth preserving, certain projects worth pursuing, apart from the worldly concerns that consume most men.
It's a rich episode, full of colorful scenes and potent themes. Exciting to have GoT back!
[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.
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!
Ok, so they mentioned Sisko very briefly in this alternate/mirror/parallel universe, so I'm hoping (but barely because I'm really a cynic) that either he, or Bashir, or Dax ffs will be "The Watcher" when they travel back to 2024.
Look, I'm just desperate for trek universes to converge, and if they're going to touch an already established fixed point (and 2024 IS a cannon fixed point), they had BETTER give Cpt. Sisko/Brooks his rightful due. We've seen/heard all the other primary Federation Captains in recent Trek shows and some of the tertiary ones, even Dukat and Martok have had honorary mention now! Come onnnn man! This is the time and place (pun intended) to put right the wrongs done to our beloved DS9 Captain.
[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.
Swerve swerve swerve. I can't say I'm surprised, it's what Westworld is known for however this felt less organic then before and more like we were intentionally lead down the wrong path just to have the big revelation in the end that we were wrong. Problem is none of it was surprising or inspiring, it didn't make you go "oh what???" like in season 1 when we found out William was the man in black, it just made you go oh whatever...
Maeve switched sides, saw that coming. Dolores wanted to save humanity now? Please... There's a man in black robot? Already knew that, don't care what comes from it. Don't believe Dolores is really dead, don't care if she isn't, don't believe William is either, don't care if he isn't. William didn't end up saving anything, Hale is a bitch again. The only real emotional part of the episode was seeing Bernard visit Arnold's family and that still wasn't even that spectacular. Bernard has the key... to what exactly? Everyone got their catch phrase in. This episode just showed the show's gone on too long and the story is all over the place. To think it's going to keep going feels more like a chore then something to be excited for. With any mercy they end this thing with a 3 or 4 episode arch in season 4 and be done with it.
Alas Westworld, this pain is all I have left of you.
[5.8/10] Look, trying to diagnose just one problem as “the key” to what’s wrong with Westworld is like pulling one bullet out of Scarface and declaring him cured. But the one that bugs me the most in “Decoherence” is this -- the show pretends that it is very smart and profound, when it is deeply, deeply trite and dumb.
Maybe I’m just too old and jaded for this mumbo jumbo. If you watched The Matrix in theaters, or sat agape in front of the T.V. watching Star Trek: The Next Generation, or even rode the highs and lows of Battlestar Galactica before, this show’s overextended points about identity and choice are simply old hat. For a new generation, wowed by the production design and quality acting, this may feel like a breath of fresh air and something truly insightful. But for old hands like yours truly, it can’t help but feel tired and done.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s something cool conceptually about William having conversations with different versions of himself and debating whether or not he’s the author of his own story or just a character in one that’s been dictated to him. (It’s also a nice excuse to bring Jimmi Simpson back to play Young William again.) Having different reflections of his former self speak up to either excuse past behavior by blaming it on his upbringing, the park, or balancing it out with his good deeds, makes for a visually striking device if nothing else.
The problem is that this is Westworld so the dialogue, and its attendant overwritten colloquies about whether or not we have free will and self-taunts about the darkness that lies in the hearts of men, elicits more eye-rolls than solemn nods in response. To be honest, I think I’m just over William as a character. The battle for his soul mostly ceased to be interesting after season 1. Killing his own daughter should provide more places to take the character, but death is so cheap on this show that it doesn't mean much. Ed Harris still makes the most of the material, but this whole “are you a villain in this story or a passenger in your own life” dichotomy is tired and cliched.
What I find more surprising is that I’m also struggling to care about Maeve this season. She was always one of the show’s more compelling characters, given her more complex motivations and the snark and charm of her personality. The problem for her in season 3 is that so much of her material is clearly wheel-spinning until the inevitable confrontation between her and Dolores. I appreciate that “Decoherence” tries to use this downtime while her body reprints to explore her character a little, but it doesn't really tell us anything we don’t already know.
We do see that Maeve has her superpowers back. That’s more of a plot point than a character development, since presumably her ability to dictate the behavior of the Hosts will come into play somehow when Dolores sends her army in, or Bernard and Stubbs (and maybe William?) try to interfere, or she has to take over big red Kool Aid Man-style wall-busters to win the day. But while it’s likely important that the show set that up, we’ve already done the Warworld routine and seeing her thump goons or bring back the “real” Hector so that he can be offed for “real” ten minutes later does nothing.
There is something to her having a chat with Dolores (or an earlier version of her) who seems more detached and sanguine about what has to be done than usual, in order to set up that confrontation down the road. The whole “we’re not so different, you and I” tenor of the exchange is also a cliché. But it at least introduces some moral complications to the whole thing, where both Dolores and Maeve think they’re fighting for their people, their loved ones, just in different ways. There’s not much new to that, but it’s a solid enough wrinkle and a clever enough way to put them face to face before they’re actually face to face.
That just leaves Hale, who wasn’t interesting to me before she was just another Host, and who isn’t much more interesting to me now. The character should be more compelling conceptually. For one thing, the fact that she’s a double agent, theoretically working for Serac against Dolores while actually working for Dolores against Serac. For another, there’s genuine intrigue, and something that does feel a little unique, about Hale’s life bleeding into Dolores’s programming, to where Host-Hale genuinely care for real-Hale’s family, to the point that it reveals her as not the real Hale to Serac.
But despite that, she feels like a pointless character, who exists only to be the product of various schemes and counter-schemes, ploys and counter-ploys, and otherwise walk around gray hallways shooting and crushing things. If this show aspired to be any old dumb action movie, that would perfeclty fine. But it wants to convince us that it’s saying something meaningful amid all this indulgent destruction and twisty nonsense, and at the very least, Hale is a pretty meager vessel to support that sort of storytelling.
So instead we just get surprises. William has decided that his debate about reality or causality or mentality is pointless, and he’s found his purpose, and is now on Team Bernard. Maeve is now not just working for Serac and trying to take out Dolores because she wants to reunite with her daughter, but because she wants revenge on Dolores for orchestrating the death of Hector. And Robo-Hale has lost the one thing she had a genuine emotional connection to -- real Hale’s family -- leaving her as another potential wildcard/vengeance-seeker amid all of this craziness.
There’s nothing wrong with those developments. They’re solid, basic, character beats. A villain becomes a useful ally. A hero gets new motivation. A tweener finds their cause more complicated. But Westworld in general and “Decoherence” in particular seems to think these events are freighted with irrepressible meaning, when they’re stock plot points and character twists wrapped in the same dime store philosophical ramblings the show’s had on offer for a while now.
I don’t mind Westworld trying to be smart or contemplative amid its pulpy thrills; I just wish it succeeded.
[8.4/10] We live in the finite. Everyone reading this has a limited amount of time on this plane of existence. Maybe you believe there’s an eternal paradise waiting on the other end. Maybe you believe in reincarnation. Maybe you believe that we’re simply waves whose essence is returned to the fabric of the universe. Whatever you believe, almost all of us can agree that whatever we have here, our fragile world and fragile bodies, are not built to last.
That is both terrifying and maddening: terrifying because, like Janet, none of us truly knows what’s on the other side, and maddening because there is so much to do and see and experience even in this finite world, and given how few bearimies we have on this mortal coil, most of us will only have the chance to sample a tiny fraction of it.
So The Good Place gives us a fantasy. It’s not a traditional one, of endless bliss or perpetual pleasure or unbridled success. Instead, it imagines an afterlife where there’s time enough to become unquestionably fulfilled, to accomplish all that we could ever want, to step into the bounds of the next life or the next phase of existence or even oblivion at peace. The finale to Michael Schur’s last show, Parks and Recreation, felt like a dose of wish fulfillment, but with this ending, The Good Place blows it out of the water.
Each of our heroes receives the ultimate send-off. By definition, nearly all of them have found ultimate satisfaction, a sense of peacefulness in their existence that makes them okay to leave it, having connected with their loved ones, improved themselves, and accomplished all that they wanted to. If “One Last Ride” seemed to give the denizens of Pawnee everything they’d ever wanted, “Whenever You’re Ready” makes that approach to a series finale nigh-literal for the residents of The Good Place.
And yet, there’s a sense of melancholy to it all, if only because every person who emerges from paradise at peace and ready to leave, has to say goodbye to people who love them. Most folks take it in stride, with little more than an “oh dip” or an “aw shoot”, but there’s still something sad about people who leave loved ones behind, and whom the audience has come to know and love, bidding what is, for all intents and purposes, a final farewell.
But The Good Place finds ways to make that transcendent joy for each of our heroes feel real. Jason...completes a perfect game of Madden (controlling Blake Bortles, no less). He gets loving send-offs from his father and best friend. He enjoys one last routine with his dance crew. He inadvertently lives the life of a monk while trying to find the necklace he made for Janet. It is the combination of the idiotic, the sweet, and the unexpectedly profound, which has characterized Jason.
Tahani learns every skill she dreamed of mastering (including learning wood-working from Ron Swanson and/or Nick Offerman!). She connects with her sister and develops a loving relationship with her parents. And when it’s time to go, she realizes she has more worlds left to conquer and becomes an architect, a fitting destination for someone who was always so good at designing and creating events for the people she cares about. Hers is one of the few stories that continues, and it fits her.
Chidi doesn't have the same sort of list of boxes checked that leads him to the realization that he has nothing more to do. Sure, he’s read all of the difficult books out there and seemingly refined the new afterlife system (with help from the council) to where it’s running smoothly, almost on automatic. But his realization is more from a state of being happy with where everything is, with what he’s experienced.
He has dinner with his best friend and Eleanor’s best friends and has so many times. He’s spent endless blissful days with the love of his (after)life staring at the sunset. His mom kissed Eleanor and left lipstick on her cheek, which Eleanor’s mom wiped off. I love that. I love that it’s something more ineffable for Chidi, a sense of the world in balance from all the bonds he’s forged rather than a list of things he’s done. And I love that he felt that readiness to move on for a long time, but didn’t for Eleanor’s sake.
Look, we’re at the end of the series, and I’m still not 100% on board with Eleanor/Chidi, which is a flaw. But I want to like it. I like the idea of it. And I especially like the idea of someone being at peace, but sacrificing the need to take the next step for the sake of someone they love. The saddest part of this episode is Eleanor doing everything she can to show Chidi that there’s more to do, only to accept that the moral rule in this situation says that her equal and opposite love means letting him go. Chidi’s departure is hard, but his gifts to Eleanor are warm, and almost justify this half-formed love story that’s driven so much of the show.
Unfortunately, no matter how much peace he finds, Michael cannot walk through the door that leads to whatever comes next. So instead, he gets the thing he always wanted -- to become human, or as Eleanor puts it, a real boy. Ted Danson plays the giddiness of this to the hilt, his excitement at doing simple human things, the symbolism of him learning to play a guitar on earth, on taking pleasure in all the mundane annoyances and simple fun and things we meat-sacks take for granted. Each day of humanity is a new discovery for Michael, and there’s something invigorating about that, something heightened by his own delight at not knowing what happens next in the most human of ways.
The one character who gets the least indication of a next step is Janet. We learn that she is Dr. Manhattan, experiencing all of time at once. We see her accept Jason’s passing, hug our departing protagonists, and take steps to make herself just a touch more human to make her time with Jason a little more right. But hers is a story of persistence, of continued growth, in a way that we don’t really have for anyone else.
Along the way, the show checks in with scads of minor characters to wrap things up. We see the other test subjects having made it into The Good Place (or still being tested). We see Doug Forcett deciding to party hard now that he’s in Heaven. We see Shawn secretly enjoy the new status quo, and Vicky go deep into her new role, and The Judge...get into podcasts! As much as this show tries to get the big things right for all of its major characters, it also takes time to wrap up the little things and try not to leave any loose threads from four seasons of drop-ins across the various planes of existence.
That just leaves Eleanor. She takes the longest of any of the soul squad to be ready. She tries, becoming okay with Chidi’s absence. She overcomes her fear of being alone. But most importantly, she does what she’s come to do best -- help people better herself. There’s self-recognition in the way her final great act, the thing that makes her okay with leaving this plane and entering another, is seeing herself in Mindy St. Clair and trying to save her. The story of The Good Place is one of both self-improvement and the drive to help others do the same. Saving Mindy, caring about her, allows Eleanor to do both in one fell swoop.
So she too walks through the door, beautifully rendered as the bend between two trees in a bucolic setting. Her essence scatters through the universe, with one little brilliant speck of her wave, crashing back into Michael’s hands, reminding him of his dear friend, and inspiring him to pass on that love and sincerity back into the world. It is, as trite as it sounds, both an end and a beginning, something circular that returns the good deeds our protagonists have done, the good people they have become, into some type of cycle that helps make the rest of this place a little better.
Moments end. Lives end. T.V. shows end. The Good Place has its cake and eats it too, returning to and twisting key moments like Michael welcoming Eleanor to the afterlife, while cutting an irrevocable path from here through the crash of the wave. It embraces the way that the finite gives our existence a certain type of meaning, whether we have a million bearimies to experience the joys and wonders of the universe, or less than a hundred years to see and do and feel whatever we can. And it sends Team Cockroach home happy, wherever and whatever their new “home” may be.
In that, The Good Place is a marvel, not just because it told a story of ever-changing afterlife shenanigans, not just because it tried to tackle the crux of moral philosophy through an off-the-wall network sitcom, but because it ended a successful show, after only four seasons, by sending each of them into another phase of existence and made it meaningful. There’s a million things to do with our limited time on this planet, but watching The Good Place was an uplifting, amusing, challenging, and above all worthwhile use of those dwindling minutes, even if we’ll never have as many as Eleanor or Chidi, Michael or Tahani, Janet or Jason, or any of the other souls lucky enough to be able to choose how much eternity is enough.
I'm really not liking this show, and that's saying something as I absolutely LOVE Hugh Laurie, and cannot get enough of anything even remotely space/sci-fi related.
With everything else in this show that should help carry it, even the premise which isn't new but still offers interesting possibilities, the absolute worst part is the abysmal "writing". Can we even call it that ?
It's basically Avenue 5: a space improv' ... and I don't know anyone who likes improv'
In this particular episode they re-use the same tepid coffins orbiting the ship joke twice, and in next weeks previews it looks like they're gonna keep on beating that dead horse.
And where are the likeable characters ? Everyone is just annoying, so who am I supposed to root for if we end up hating every one on board ?
I'm just so frustrated and disappointed that they somehow managed to botch what could have been a really amazing show.
EDIT: Might have been looking at this all wrong, please check the other comments below.
am i alone about loving the ending? ( that kind of works like season or show finale ) .
[7.0/10] There’s a lot of filler in this one. I don’t know why, in the lead-up to the finale, we need to have Kaz getting in a scuba suit fight with some stormtroopers, or to see a ball droid vs. ball droid street fight. I guess it’s supposed to be fun, but the show’s animation is so stiff and stuttery that it’s hard to get into it. At least we get a lot of fun Neeku banter. (His bits about blowfish and being called “buddy” were positively Pinky-esque.)
The one part of this episode I found really interesting is Tam being coaxed and turned by Agent Tierny. While she’s obviously playing Tam, she’s using true things, like that Yeager kept things from her and put her in danger, that give Tam a right to be mad. The actress who voices Tam still feels a bit wooden to me, but there’s at least good character writing for how she’d be sympathetic to the First Order and disillusioned about her mentor.
The rest of this is mostly place-setting. Buggles helping Kaz get to Torra, and Neeku and the refugees discovering that the Colossus can fly feels much more like setup than anything necessary for this episode. The same goes for Yeager and Captain Doza getting tossed in the same cell.
That just leaves the direct tie in to The Force Awakens with Kaz witnessing Hux’s speech on Starkiller base, just before it blows up the Hosnian system (something captured with an external camera for some reason?) It should be a devastating moment for Kaz, but we’ve only seen his dad once, and the actor who voices the character doesn't have the abilities as a performer to make a moment like that land.
Overall, this is a fairly underwhelming lead into the finale, with more filler and setups than anything worthwhile outside of Tam’s experience, but maybe it’ll be worth it with the payoff in the next episode.
Patrick Stewart spins around the wrong way after Brent Spiner "hits" him in Engineering… No wonder that particular fight call seemed extra cheesy.
Both times Graves transfers his consciousness, the implied mechanics leave major plot holes. Who turned Data back on? How did Data get on the floor? Who unplugged him?!
While I wouldn't necessarily call this a great story—it has a lot of elements that were common in science fiction up to that time, and the plot holes are awfully big—it is a great watch. Brent Spiner doing just about anything makes for a great watch.
I'm a bit disappointed to read that a scene where Data was to riff on Picard's bald head, after his attempt at a Riker-like beard failed, was cut from the script. That would have been hilarious. But maybe it would have included another instance of Deanna making some excuse to avoid laughing in front of Data, who is an android and would not feel insulted by it, so… maybe it was better left out. (That bit was very out of character, I thought. Troi shouldn't feel the need to hide her reaction from Data. He'd find it useful feedback, if anything.)
Besides Spiner's usual obvious fun-having, there are some nice little writing touches to think about.
IMDB pointed out (because I haven't read Dickens in forever) that the disease Graves had is probably a reference to a character of the same name in A Tale of Two Cities, which is pretty great.
Graves' name itself, while not really a literary reference per se, is still funny. A man trying to cheat death is named after the thing in which he does not want to end up (a grave). Har har?
(I also realized early on this this episode why Dr. Pulaski must be so dour… She's played by Diana Muldaur, who practically has "dour" in her name… but that's a cheap shot, I guess.)
"The Star Trek Without the Star Trek Within". Yes, silly title, it made as much sense as the episode itself (but, to be honest, Discovery does often feel like Star Trek without the Star Trek within). Well, at least they're gearing up for what it seems to be a fun (though most likely ludicrous) season finale.
The Borg will always be my favourite Star Trek "villain". They're ruthless, logical and rational (in their minimalist way) to the extreme, and pretty much scary as fuck (at least until Voyager soften them up, by humanising them a bit). I would always wet myself whenever there'd be another episode with the Borg, both out of excitement and fear. Of course, I was only a mere teenager back then. The excitement remains till this day, though. Last season's finale and this season's premiere made for some of the finest episodes TNG had to offer, in my humble opinion as a longtime fan of the show.
[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.
[5.6/10] I unabashedly love The Room. It has this bizarre, unreplicable combination of incompetence and raw earnestness, of someone putting their soul on a platter for all the world to see with no understanding of how to actually convey that. The end result is one of the funniest and yet purest films you are ever likely to watch.
But it is not a standard that any professionally produced or written show should aspire to, and the funeral scene in “Rest Pain” feels legitimately of a piece with scenes from The Room. I want to be clear here. Sometimes I exaggerate for comic effect when talking about this show and its foibles, but that’s not what I’m doing here. My first thought when seeing the ridiculous outbursts of that graveside scene was legitimately the work of Tommy Wiseau.
Maybe it’s just the would be all-American kid (in this instance, Bobby), overacting and screaming his head off about everyone being hypocrites and to blame for Laura Palmer’s death. Bobby is one of the show’s worst actors (no mean feat) and seeing him contort himself and rant and rave in such a cartoonish fashion calls to mind Johnny’s “Fed up with this world” speech in The Room.
The silly eulogy delivered by the preacher, while the camera darts around to reaction shots of the assembled does the sequence no favors, nor does the slow-motion confrontation between Bobby and James. And by the same token, Leland Palmer leaping onto the coffin and crying out in outlandish, over the top grief, while his wife screams at him for ruining a solemn occasion feels like the loudly-broadcast mishmash of emotions that only come in movies directed by Tommy Wiseau or, failing that, Harold Zoid.
But what’s strange is that the show seems at least vaguely aware of the absurdity of this. Shelley makes fun of the sequence in the very next scene. In the same way, Laura’s identical twin cousin Madeline shows up, “Rest in Pain” seems to acknowledge how silly this is by having the show within a show, a melodramatic soap opera, include a woman playing two different parts in its opening credits. Simply owning up to one’s own ridiculous doesn’t excuse it, but it at least makes you wonder what the show was getting at, why it didn’t do better, what it hoped to achieve, in depicted such goofy scenes and story choices.
Thankfully, there’s a few things that save “Rest in Pain” from succumbing to the worst of Twin Peaks’s tendency toward ridiculum. One of them is the choice to, however briefly, pair up Agent Cooper and Audrey again. As I’ve mentioned before, the two of them are uniquely compelling in a show full of caricatures, and so matching their energies, having Audrey be clearly infatuated by Cooper and Cooper aware of what’s going on with Audrey while being smart enough to hold his place, makes for a moment that’s charged in a way that few others on this show can muster.
I’m also rather entertained by Alfred. Sure, he’s an exaggerated character as well, but he has a proto-Dr. House quality, as he drips with insults about Twin Peaks and its denizens in an amusing fashion, that at least makes his routine funny even if he feels like something out of a sitcom at times. His tension with Sherriff Truman and Cooper, and his steady stream of digs at this town and its people, make for entertaining texture as he drops more clues about what happened to Laura.
We also get clues about how Ed and Nadine got together, and how he and Norma found one another. Credit where credit is due -- I complained about how the last episode took what could be a pathos-ridden character in Nadine and turned her into an object of scorn or fun. But here, it offers a little more sympathy for her, casting her as the “brown mouse” who harbored affections for high school hero Ed, and is grateful that he “came back to her.” It’s not much, but the episode treats her more kindly than before, and suggests why Ed and Norma fell back into their old high school sweetheart habits, as the conveniently-timed threat of Norma’s husband’s parole looms on the horizon.
I even appreciated the supernatural elements hinted at here. While the notion of a secret society, “The Bookhouse Boys,” strikes me as a little hokey, I can appreciate what the show is going for with the broader material it’s aiming at with them. There’s a great deal of talk, from Cooper especially, about how Twin Peaks is an idyllic town, with slices of pie and ducks on a lake and a certain old school simplicity and sweetness that so compels Cooper that he contemplates buying land out here.
But Truman suggests that seeming tranquility comes at a price. Maybe that price is the notion that for all its shiny exterior, there is a darkside to Twin Peaks that, as Bobby butchers in a poorly-written and delivered monologue, nobody in town is willing to acknowledge. But “Rest in Pain” also suggests that there’s something more spiritually wrong with the place as well, that the protection of that paradise comes at the cost of an evil that lurks around the place. The nice down with a dark secret is an old trope, but it’s also a compelling one.
The problem is that it has to be executed correctly, and generic teen bad boys who couldn’t act their way out of a wet paper bag, bog-standard jerk husbands who have all the nuance of anthropomorphized plaque in a toothpaste commercials, good-for-nothing hoodlums who offer accents about as convincing a fratboy on St. Patrick’s Day, and manic cry-dancing dads who only achieves farce when they’re going for feeling, leave “Rest in Pain” as a kitschy mess despite the promise and mild improvement it shows.
The Room is unintentionally hilarious, and Twin Peaks often is too, but nobody wants to make you laugh by accident, especially when they want to make you think or worry or empathize. “Rest in Pain” isn’t that bad most of the time, but it comes too close to the Wiseau line than anyone, viewer or creator alike, should be comfortable with.
"An algorithm could write movies and TV shows!"
"Not well though...."
Well played, writing team, well played. :laughing:
The death scene was wild. So well done. I didn't expect the first death to be so crazy. Now, I'm extremely curious to see how the rest of them will be killed.
Likely in the minority here but I wish there was less sexual stuff and weirdness. It doesn't add anything really to the plot. The orgy music was on point though.
[7.6/10] Ahsoka is doing a slow burn, and I can’t say that I mind. There are more teases and piece-moving than there are important plot developments, but that gives us time to get into the world and the story. The machinations of something as grandiose as the return of Grand Admiral Thrawn shouldn’t happen in a day. And something as emotionally potent as Ahsoka and Sabine reuniting as master and apprentice shouldn’t happen in a single episode. Taking the time to let these things simmer before they boil is a feature, not a bug.
Not that the cheekily-titled “Toil and Trouble” is lacking in narrative stakes or high-flying action. The latest clue as to Morgan Elsbet’s intentions leads Ahsoka and Hera to the shipyards of Corellia, where they uncover a host of ex-Imperials, still devoted to the cause, helping out their enemies with hyperdrives and other tech for the “Eye of Scion”.
The visit to Corellia serves a broader theme throughout the Mando-verse side of Star Wars -- that the transition from an Empire to a Republic is an awkward and irregular one. The “happy ever after” of Return of the Jedi gives way to lost causers, reactionary schemers, and in this case, people who profited off the old system who are just as ready to profit off the new one.
Peter Jacobson (of House M.D. fame) does a good job as the local shipyard functionary, trying to put our heroes off the scent and dissembling to keep his operation rolling. But he never comes off like a former Imp trying to raise the last vestiges of the Empire anew. Instead, he seems like someone willing to sell his wares to the highest bidder, whomever that may be. In the franchise’s continuing exploration of what it means to stamp out the embers of the last regime and build up the structure of the New Republic, it’s nice to acknowledge the problems caused by those simply out to make a buck, in line with The Last Jedi.
And it makes time for some action to keep the casual ans happy once more. We get another lightsaber fight, as Ahsoka makes quick work of the mooks in the control tower, bursts through a window with badass glory, and takes on a darksider and their assassin droid with sizzling aplomb. The sword fighting is crisp and clear, without too many cuts, and the choreography is exciting enough to hold your interest.
But this is really Hera’s coming out party. It’s a blast to see her flying with grace and dexterity in live action, as he chases down the ship headed to Morgan’s stronghold. The fancy darting through opposing fire throws her nimbleness at the controls. And what a debut for Chopper, her trust droid, who is as cantankerous, amusing, and potentially murderous as ever. The pair remain great, with a clear goal to place a tracker on the ship, some fun banter and gesticulating between them, and a nice display of their talents. Despite the deliberately placed plot movement, there's plenty of high octane moments here to keep the tempo up.
There's also some genuine intrigue on the villain side of the equation. Our mystery girl refers to Baylan as master, and seems to be genuinely ignorant of what this is all building towards. The episode reveals a new ally, a formidable foe who uses an Inquisitor’s lightsaber and can stand their ground against Ahsoka. And Morgan reveals the power of the map, lighting it up with her Nightsister magic and pointing the way to retrieving Thrawn. It’s all just breadcrumbs for now, but they’re compelling enough to whet your appetite for more.
More than that, Baylan gets a little shading in ways that make him a more interesting player. He derides Morgan’s theories about Thrawn’s location as fairy tales. He laments the possibility of killing Ahsoka, thinking it a shame to lose another Jedi with so few left. He seems steady, dignified, appropriately imbued with Jedi calm. And yet, he seems to desire unimaginable power, a sign of the fall of the dark side. While I’m impatient and, frankly, annoyed with Star Wars mystery boxes, I’m curious enough and satisfied enough with the early hints, to be on board waiting to find out what precisely Baylan’s deal is.
Despite all of this -- the latest rendition of the New Republic’s challenges, the action and excitement, the teases for our villains -- the main event here is the rekindling of the partnership between Ahsoka and Sabine.
I like the structure of how it plays out. You have Sabine’s closest ally, Hera, encouraging Ahsoka to take her on as an apprentice once more. You have Ahsoka’s closest ally, Huyang, encouraging Sabine to seek the path of a padawan once more. And you have both the former master and the former apprentice bucking at the idea, but eventually acquiescing when each realizes they’re ready.
You understand the distance that exists between them and why. The show does well to dramatize the ways in which Ahsoka is steady, thoughtful, and measured, as a Jedi Master might be, and also the ways in which Sabine is still recalcitrant, brash, and a little reckless, in the way a certain young togruta once was when she was a padawan.
Ahsoka is perceptive and deft, as her recovery of the attack droid in Sabine’s home reveals. Sabine is talented and capable, as her ability to retrieve the data from the droid’s head shows. But the near-explosion she causes when pushing the limits to retrieve it, and Ahsoka’s quiet but judgmental air, ably demonstrates why things fell apart.
But Hera and Huyang make the case that they need one another, for structure, for support, for purpose. They’re each too proud, and a little too burned from the last experience, to admit it, but their friends are right. Sabine gradually accepts it. A meaningful haircut is a trope, but also a good signifier that Sabine is done running away from her past, and ready to embrace the path she was on when the Ghost crew road high.
And Ahsoka speaks of both master and apprentice simply knowing they’re ready, the reason behind her reluctance to start anew. But when Sabine shows up, ready to take up her vocation once more, feeling more “her”, each of them lives up to that standard. It’s time to start again.
That start doesn’t happen overnight. I imagine they won’t magically be on the same page the whole time in episode three. It’s a process. A journey. A transition for both of them. But with a measured, even soulful rendition of their intertwining path, I’m willing to wait.
"...you haven't lived my life. You have the privilege of believing in what's best in people, me, I happen to know there are some things in this world that don't deserve forgiveness." - M'benga
...and he's 100% right. Shit, this episode hit so hard it set off my own PTSD.
Also, sure, everyone deserves a second chance, but only if they've owned up to what they've done and faced the consequences. If a person has changed or is working toward change, they'll accept that as a consequence not everyone will forgive them, and they'll respect other people's feelings (even if the feeling is hatred).
General Rah didn't earn forgiveness for his atrocities, he never owned up to what he did. Ortegas saw through his pretense, while M'benga and Chapel tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he was one stubborn and cowardly Klingon who ultimately deserved what he got, a dishonourable death. May he eternally face his consequences in Gre'thor.
What an absolute perfect ending, and I say this while admitting this ending didn't go the way I expected it to. Like honestly, how many of us actually thought Picard was going to survive this episode? I didn't, but I'm damn sure glad he did, even if we never see any of these TNG characters ever again, which I honestly doubt we won't given the ending. This was an emotional final send off however for this crew that honored and respected each of them throughout the season, every single one of them got their grand moment to shine, Riker with his asteroid, Geordi with his ship, Worf with his rescue, Crusher with her contraction discovery, Data defeated Lore, Troi rescued them in the end with her love for Riker, and Picard saved his son. And how about that borg queen, holy absolute hell was she horrifying looking or what? Anyway, what a beautiful ending that they all deserved, and one last poker game for the sake of it all. Am I excited about the future with Q showing up to tease the next series with the Enterprise G? Sure, but not as happy as I am that the old timers I grew up with got their swan song and somehow, someway, all survived. And if you didn't burst into tears when Riker and Worf decided to stay back to find Picard, basically sealing their death, then damn it I don't know what will satisfy you in life. Was this show perfect? Fuck no. Was the 3rd season without flaws? Bahaha, no! But if you can't appreciate what this really was meant to be here, I don't judge you, I just feel sad you couldn't feel the raw enjoyment the rest of us felt, because this was fucking awesome.
oh my god ! this episode is so intense ! my heart beating so fast !!
Well, it was clear where this would go... still, really poignant episode, typical Star Trek. And the helpless anger in the end, knowing that this child is suffering beyond help, and that another one is being groomed to take over in the future, over and over again - well done.
Granted, children suffer now and in the ST-age... but voluntarily send a child to a life of suffering just that the others may live in luxury, no, there's no moral high ground to be found here. But a couple of questions remain, such as those ancestors who built the machine, did they leave plans behind? And why not relocate the whole population if the planet seems inhabitable without that machine? Was the former colony meant as relocation world once upon a time?
I guess, Kirk, especially Trek-09-Kirk, would have blown that machine up. Can't say I'd have minded much... even though I actually prefer the uncomfortable TNG-like non-resolution we got here.
