[3.4/10] Star Trek, as a franchise, is awfully fond of alternative timelines and parallel Earths and other What If-style imaginations. Well, maybe there’s some alternate universe where The Adventures of Gary Seven became a major hit for CBS, and we all look back on the fact that Gary met Kirk and Spock with the same fondness that people think of the Adam West Batman meeting the Green Hornet flanked by Bruce Lee’s Kato.
But this is not that universe. Instead, it’s one where a viewer like me is left wondering why The Original Series finished its second season by turning over the proceedings to a reasonably dull character the audience has never met before, while sidelining its two main characters from most of the action. A backdoor pilot is nothing new, but it’s odd, to say the least, as a modern viewer watching a show turn its season finale into one big advertisement for another series.
(Don’t get me started on the cheese of Kirk telling Gary and Roberta that they’ll have lots of adventures together in a line that feels proto-ripped off from The Simpsons.)
But hey, it’s not the first time Star Trek has turned significant portions of an episode over to a new character. The problem was that “Assignment: Earth” didn’t feel like an episode of Star Trek. That could just be the result of Kirk and Spock and the rest of the Enterprise crew being put on the bench for most of the episode, but I think there’s more to it. The tone is a bit different, slightly more I Dream of Jeannie than TOS.
It’s also an exceedingly dull episode of the show. Star Trek is not above having uneventful, seemingly interminable middle sections that just sag and sag. But “Assignment: Earth” spends so much time at the McKinley Base where a nuclear bomb orbiter is being launched where next to nothing happens, and it happens slowly. There were times when I seriously wondered if the episode had been running short and so the powers that be just threw in random scenes of characters restating the problem or added in more establishing shots or other wheel-spinning to pad out the time.
That’s really the biggest problem with “Assignment: Earth.” No doubt, the audience would inevitably bristle at seeing their usual heroes put on the backburner in favor of some random half-serious Get Smart ripoff. But even taking the episode as we find it, and accepting that it’s an episode-length pitch for another show, “Assignment” does nothing to make me want to watch that show.
Gary Seven is a pretty uninspired presence. While there’s some intrigue to the character when he uses his little servo pen to best Kirk and company (something done, no doubt, to sell a Trek-loving audience that this guy is awesome don’t you know) and manages to beam down and pursue his mission anyway, Robert Lansing doesn’t offer much of a presence beyond that opening act. There’s a few semi-amusing moments when he banters with his cat (though TOS had already played the “cat that turns into scantily-clad lady” card by this point) but for the most part, he’s a big block of wood proceeding through a pretty perfunctory plot without many good story beats.
The same goes for the annoying Roberta, his young would-be sidekick. I couldn’t believe it was the great Terri Garr playing the role, because Roberta is the cheesiest sort of ditzy sixties foil. The fact that she’s so flighty and throws in weird, character-establishing lines like “that’s why my generation are rebels” kind of stuff just makes her an unpleasant presence in the episode. And there’s little comic or dramatic chemistry with her erstwhile future co-star.
That’s not helped by the fact that the episode repeats a number of things Star Trek has already done. It’s contrived and laughable how blase Kirk is about going back in time to 1968. If time travel were such a casual thing, it would have solved a lot of the crew’s problems from earlier episodes and probably brought a few people back from the dead. Nevermind the fact that it’s silly as hell that they just so happened to go back in time to the year when the episode aired. That alone could be forgivable, but combined with the episode’s other problems it’s just another dent in the fender.
It’s also a pretty ham-fisted anti-nuclear weapons story. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to look askance on a show at the dawn of the nuclear age expressing its anxieties about the threat of global annihilation from fifty years later, but the show lays the whole “terrible risk” thing on pretty thick. To add insult to injury, the mission to mess with the telemetry of the orbiter rocket is a perfectly fine goal in the episode, but there’s not enough around it, with everything basically being reduced to the usual “oh no, we got captured!” stalling for time.
The best the episode can do for Kirk and Spock (beyond having them held at gunpoint by a random security guard) is try to give Kirk some grand dilemma about whether or not to trust Gary Seven and believe him when he says what he’s doing is for the greater good. But the episode drops that for most of its run time, only picking it up at the very end after the duo have basically been background characters for 90% of the episode.
In brief, “Assignment: Episode” fails as an episode of Star Trek, which is understandable, if not exactly desirable, for what is essentially an undercover pilot for another series. But what’s not okay is that it also fails as an episode of The Adventures of Gary Seven, or at least, as any kind of enticement for people to watch this shoehorned-in spinoff. While the premise of a man raised on another planet sent to Earth to help mankind survive the nuclear age has potential, the stone-faced hero with the space-case (no pun intended) sidekick and his feline assistant make for a weak mix when stretched across forty-five uneventful minutes.
The fact that we’re not talking about this as the start of a Gary Seven series suggests that the Paramount executives were not convinced of the potential for a show based around this idea, and after watching this disappointing season finale, I don’t blame them.
[8.6/10] The opening of “Slip” is a little more direct than episodes of Better Call Saul tend to be, as it fills in some gaps Jimmy’s backstory and perspective. When pressed by Marco about Jimmy’s parents’ shop, about how they worked hard and everyone liked them, Jimmy admits it’s true, but questions the value of it. He declares that it got them nowhere, and characterizes his own dad as a sucker.
Jimmy’s philosophy becomes a little clearer, snapping into place with the flashback to his youth. His dad was someone who refused to bend the rules, who wouldn’t take even so much as a valuable coin for himself, who wouldn’t sell cigarettes to the kids from the local religious school to make ends meet, and in Jimmy’s eyes, that got him nothing. It’s a little too tidy and pat, but Jimmy sums it up nicely -- Papa McGill wasn’t willing to “do what he had to do,” and Jimmy definitely is.
That’s the thrust of “Slip,” which is as much an ensemble piece as any episode of Better Call Saul so far. Jimmy, Mike, Chuck, Kim, and Nacho are willing to go the extra mile, to do the difficult thing, not because they want to, but because they believe it needs to be done. It’s what unites those disparate individuals and their different challenges here. Each of them strains a little more, goes a little farther, in the name of biting the bullet and doing what needs doing.
For Jimmy, that means going back to his old ways. What’s interesting is that Jimmy tries to be good here. He tries to build on the success of his first ad with the owners of the music shop, and all they do is try to squeeze him. Granted, it’s Jimmy, so he’s probably inflating costs a bit, but still, the episode sets them up as jerks, and Jimmy as at the end of the rope. So hey lays out a drumstick, asks them one more time if they’re committed to not paying him what they originally agreed to, and then he intentionally takes a painful looking spill in their store to get leverage. Look out, Slippin’ Jimmy is back.
He also returns to his huckstering to get back at this community service supervisor and make a little scratch in the process. His big show of a potential lawsuit and deal with a fellow worker grow a little farfetched in terms of persuading the grumpy supervisor who eventually gives in, but the purpose of these scenes is clear. Jimmy tried doing things his parents’ way, the good way, and the only thing it got him was an empty bank account. Now, he’s back to taking the (literally) painful, less-than-savory steps that ensure he has enough money to hold up his end of the bargain with Kim.
But Kim’s willing to go the extra mile too. When Jimmy offers her the money, she obliquely hints at the idea that he might need time to regroup, that she’s willing to carry the load for the two of them for a little while. It’s not entirely clear whether she’s worried he’ll return to conning people full time and wants to alleviate the financial incentives to do so, or she’s simply concerned that whatever his assurances, unreliable Jimmy may not be able to come up with his end on a monthly basis without his legal practice. Either way, she takes on a new client, one where she already seems pretty slammed, to make sure that they’ll be able to make ends meet, with or without Jimmy’s contributions.
The Mesa Verde head honcho refers that client to her at a lunch meeting, where she just so happens to run into Howard. Howard, ever the politician, is plastically cordial, but Kim, unlike her beau, still has pangs of guilt and offers him a refund on the law school tuition he put up for her. Howard, letting the scales fall for the first time in a while, reveals that he too is working overtime, having to reassure scores of clients after the incident with Chuck gets out. Kim’s willing to take the (figuratively) painful step of handing over $14,000 dollars to assuage her conscience, and Howard is out there hustling to preserve his firm’s good name after his partner’s public breakdown.
But some good seems to have come out of it. Chuck is back with his doctor and (self-)reportedly making great progress. He may be overestimating himself a little bit, but he’s pushing through his exposure therapy and accepting that his illness is a mental not physical one. When Dr. Cruz warns him about taking it easy and not setting his expectations too high, he remains optimistic, anxious to get better.
In a tremendous sequence, without a word of exposition, “Slip” suggests that Chuck might overexert himself in this effort. He’s using the coping techniques the doctor suggested for him when standing in front of the blaring fluorescent lights of the grocery story. He lists the colors and objects he sees, taking his focus away from the pain. Director Adam Bernstein uses the tools in his toolbox to underscore the severity of what walking through the freezer case does to Chuck, the zooms, the noise, the vertigo of it all. It seems like Chuck has pushed himself too far, that he’s about to suffer another attack
But when we see Chuck later, he has the groceries and is no worse for wear. These things are difficult for him, painful for him, but he is ready and willing to push, to take that damn step, in the same of what he wants to achieve.
The same is true of Mike, who is clearly still haunted by Anita’s story from the prior episode of her husband dying in the woods without anyone ever finding the body. He digs and digs in the New Mexico desert, metal-detector in hand, until he finds where the unfortunate Good Samaritan was buried by the cartel. He calls it in anonymously, presumably in the hopes of ensuring that another family won’t have to go through the uncertainty that Anita did.
But he’s worried about leaving his own family in a state of uncertainty too. He still has his cash from his various extra-curricular activities, but he’s worried about how he could get it to his family should something happen to him. So he goes to Gus Fring, in the hopes Gus can help him launder it. It’s a scene that shows the two men’s growing mutual respect. The meaningful handshake that closes the episode (along with Gus turning down Mike’s offer of 20% to launder it) signifies the ways that their values are the same. They are both smart, decent men who get mixed up in indecent things, and they’re willing to do what it takes to make that work.
That just leaves Nacho, who has what is possibly the most difficult task of all. What I love about this series of scenes is the way they show how meticulous, how careful, how deliberate Nacho is about all of his. There is nobility in Nacho wanting to protect his father from Hector, but he is not in any way reckless about it.
Instead, he does the legwork, he takes the extra steps that will make his operation successful. He is delicate and careful as he grinds the poison into dust and fills the lookalike pills under a magnifying glass. He practices, over and over again, the act of palming the pill bottle and depositing it into a coat pocket, so that when the moment comes, it will be second nature. And he even goes so far as to climb onto the top of the restaurant that serves as Hector’s headquarters the night before, messing up the air conditioner so that Hector will have a reason to take off his jacket.
The subsequent scene where he actually makes the switch is masterful. “Slip” holds the tension of each step in the process: from the would-be fake bill, to the probing of the wrong pocket, to the pill switcheroo, to that grand moment of truth where Nacho has to make the move he rehearsed so many times and land the pill bottle into Hector’s jacket without him realizing. It’s a great outing for Michael Mando, who conveys the way that Nacho is trying to exhibit a practiced, casual calm, but inside is anxious beyond words. His deep exhale and clenched fingers in the back after it’s all done says everything.
Each of the tasks taken up by the main characters in this episode -- planting poison pills, finding a dead body, braving the height of your illness, taking on extra work, and even breaking your own back -- require something extra, more sacrifice, more pain, more difficulty. But when something important is at stake -- your livelihood, your well-being, or your family -- the major figures of Better Call Saul are the type of people who face that head on and take whatever measures the situation requires, even if that means drastically different things for each of them. Those steps are painful, tense, and even dangerous, but for better or ill, Jimmy McGill and the people in his orbit, are the people who do what they need to do.
[3.9/10] I’ve talked about this before in my write-ups for Star Trek, but I try to hard not to impose my modern values and norms on a show made fifty years ago when watching The Original Series. I’m sure that people fifty years from now will look at the art being made by people today and have serious issues with how things are depicted or glossed over, and so I do my best to take these stories as I find them, acknowledge areas where they’re lacking in how we view morality and what’s appropriate today, but still attempt to appreciate them on their own terms.
“The Gamesters of Triskelion” is an episode that really tried my patience and tested my ability to do that. The episode is nominally focused on Kirk, Uhura, and Chekov being secretly beamed to a gladiator planet where some unseen “providers” force them to train and fight, but it centers on issues of slavery and gender dynamics that the show is ill-equipped to handle, and it makes this one pretty hard to watch at times.
First and foremost, one of the local enslaved gladiators attempts to rape Uhura (and the episode is a little cagey about what exactly happens) and “Triskelion” pretty much glosses over the aftermath, essentially forgetting about it once it’s happened. Nichelle Nichols does an amazing job, with her horrified screams being truly chilling, in a way that reinforced that this was not a subject that a colorful show like Star Trek was in any way set up to address in a meaningful fashion. The fact that it’s almost immediately forgotten, and treated like any other indignity the crew, is a pretty hard thing to get past.
But that brevity at least means the episode isn’t throwing the uncomfortable aspects in your face every five minutes. There’s something more than a little disturbing about Kirk seducing Shahna, the alien gladiator who is ostensibly training him, when at best, she is someone who has lived her whole life as a slave and has only very fuzzy notions of concepts like consent or autonomy, and at worst she seems to have the understanding and roughly the capacity of a child.
“Triskelion” tries to gloss over this by putting her in one of those costumes that leaves little to the imagination, and having Kirk try to couch his affections in ideas above freedom and love. But the reality is that Kirk makes a move on this individual who is not at all equipped to handle such things. The episode is founded on the idea that he teaches her to love, and that comes off as him grooming her rather than a free and equal concordance between the two, it makes half of the episode devoted to something that just scans as wrong.
The other problem is that even if you separate out those uncomfortable parts of “Triskelion,” you’re left with a pretty standard, dull episode. Kirk is hoodwinked by aliens with god-like powers, falls in love with a babe of the week, and uncovers the terrible secret of the new planet before concocting some plan to escape. There’s nothing wrong with the formula, but if you’re not going to do anything novel it means the execution has to be good, and the gladiator theatrics and unpleasant sexual and slavery stuff really detract from whatever the episode’s trying to do.
There’s only a couple of genuinely good things about “Triskelion” that save it from being the absolute pits. One is that the Spock-Bones-Scotty effort to try to find Kirk and company is pretty darn good. A lot of these episodes have the main action going on down on the latest planet of the week, with the business on the ship trying to rescue them feeling perfunctory. But here, there’s a legitimate conflict between the three men about what the best approach is, and a legitimate challenge in trying to track what happened to their crewmen.
As always, Spock is great here. I love the tack that even cold logical Spock is willing to act on a “hunch” when all other options are exhausted. Following a random energy trail may be a longshot, but if the transporter is working properly and their searches of the area prove fruitless, then it works with his Vulcan logic that following that path, however unlikely, is the best thing to do.
There’s also great interactions between him and Bones and Scotty, with Spock’s line about taking any suggestion “even an emotional one” about where to look, Bones responding that Spock finally asks him for something and it’s that, and the little interlude about mutiny and compromise standing out as particularly great.
The other quality part of the episode is that the action choreography is actually pretty good here. I’ve had my beef with the fights on Star Trek before, but the creative use of the weapons and the recess-like rules of staying on particular colors made for an interesting battle with Kirk versus his three aggressors, and eventually Shahna at the end there. It’s good to know the episode can do some combat even if it can’t handle the storytelling or character stuff.
Still, again, the plotting is pretty dull too. The reveal of the lit-up trio of brains and Kirk giving another one of his tedious speeches about what it means to be truly advanced and blah blah blah didn’t do much for me. (Even if it did seem to be the inspiration for the robot elders of Futurama, one of my favorite gags.) And the ploy to wager against them and free everybody seems contrived as well, even when it’s not rooted in something that’s supposed to be romantic but comes off kind of disturbing.
And yet, as cheesy as the line is, there is pathos when Kirk leaves Shahna and promises that she’ll look up to the stars and remember him. It’s a good performance from the guest actress, and it suggests that more could have been made from this -- that there’s juice in having to say goodbye to someone who opened up your world and understanding, and that if it hadn’t been wrapped up in what reads as a hasty and inappropriate relationship, the episode could have been markedly improved. It’s unfair to judge something from five decades ago according to the standards of today, but it’s also unfair to expect an audience to be able to grin and bear the sort of uncomfortable sexual politics that “The Gamesters of Triskelion” puts on display, mixed in with a weak base plot to boot.
[7.7/10] There’s a sense in “Off Brand” that many of the major figures of Better Call Saul haven’t really been doing what they’d like to be doing. Demands of family, money, and sometimes the two intertwined have kept the likes of Jimmy, Chuck, Mike, and Nacho are, at times, reluctant or bitter or scarred by the work they’ve been doing over the past few seasons. But for each of them, there is something pushing them, almost against their will, to move closer to something that might be better for their souls.
For Jimmy, that means a break from the law. At heart, Jimmy is a showman, a people-pleaser, albeit one who’s happy to use those skills to feather his nest where possible. That gives him an avenue in the law, but his references to having to go “Karloff” in his commercial for...commercials, or the dangers of stripes on screen suggest that he’s as thrilled by the art of his presentation as he is in any con.
He showed the same inclination in his meticulously-produced commercial for Davis & Main and his first big “Gimme Jimmy” ad. And the first glimpse we see of Cinnabon Gene is of a man whose world is black and white, where the only hint of color are the flashes of his famous “Better Call Saul” clips that first drew Jesse and Walt to him. As corny as it is to see Jimmy in the hat and beard and vest (and it must be said that Better Call Saul gets the lo-fi look of local ads down perfectly) there’s the sense that Jimmy is in his element when he’s on camera, and that it may be the closest thing to honest work that could sustain him.
After all, there is a sense that Jimmy became a lawyer out of a combination of admiration for his brother as a template for success and in a bid to earn his respect and perhaps even love. There’s ways in which his showmanship makes him a good fit, but as his stint at Davis & Main shows, also things that make him a liability. It does seem to pain Jimmy a bit to have to inform all of his clients of his twelve-month suspension (in another of this show’s tightly-edited and hilarious montages), and we know it won’t last, but maybe he would be happier as a commercial director and/or star than as an officer of the court. The suspension is not ideal, but it may just push Jimmy into something fulfilling after being so directed by his relationship with his brother.
As despondent as Chuck may seem having effectively lost his contest with his brother, the result seems to spur him as well. While the fallout from “Chicanery” clearly left him shaken, seeming even suicidal at times, a visit from Howard seems to snap him out of his funk. Howard, a talented advocate in his own right, appeals to Chuck’s vanity and his sense of serving the calling of the law above prosaic personal concerns.
In the shadow of those lofty ideal, Chuck begins to test the limits of his exposed psychosomatic “allergy.” He gives himself exposure therapy, gripping a battery in his hand with subtext that he’s pushing himself to move past it. And he even goes so far as to call a doctor, presumably to ask for help, to push him beyond his illness, whether he believes it to be physical or mental. As much as Chuck looks at his brother with disdain, in many ways Jimmy has been coddling him, indulging his electromagnetism “allergy” self-diagnosis rather than forcing him to confront the deeper-rooted issues that have caused it and deal with it. Oddly enough, it may be Jimmy’s final act with Chuck (if his statement to Rebecca is to be believed) that spurs his brother to get the help he needs.
Mike needs some help too. It’s not in the same way as Chuck exactly, but as he sits in that support group while his daughter-in-law recounts the difficulties of raising a daughter without her father, we know that Mike too has unresolved issues from his son’s death, issues that this sort of group might help him with.
But, like Jimmy, he’s also been pulled into a world by financial necessity and familial issues that it may do him better to be without. When his daughter-in-law asks him to help pour concrete for a neighborhood playground (possibly the one at which he’ll later be arrested) it’s the kind of labor, the kind of building something, that Mike appeared to covet in the last episode, with Gus luring him back into the world of drugs and brutality. There’s always something that feels a little less than above board about Mike’s daughter-in-law’s requests of him, a sense that she (consciously or unconsciously) uses Mike’s guilt over his son’s death to persuade him to do things for her and her daughter, but here, it may be the same sort of push that let’s him do a little of what he’d really like to be doing, like the kind Jimmy received.
And then there’s Nacho, who’s also pushed into actions he wouldn’t seem to pick without some amount of prodding. But unlike the three other men who get their share of focus in this episode, Nacho seems like he’s being pushed into something that will hurt him, that isn’t a step toward recovery or betterment and fulfillment, but something to drive him deeper into a place that isn’t comfortable.
When he’s counting dollars at the beginning of the episode, he’s apt to let the underling who’s a little light off with a warning. But all it takes is one belittling comment from Hector, who’s seemingly barely paying attention, for Nacho to drag the goon back in and brutalize him in the kitchen. When he’s upholstering in his father’s shop, a slip with the needle reflects the image of blood in his eyes, and suggests a man who is, at least in part, still carrying his grisly actions with him from that day.
But Hector prompts that sort of viciousness, that effort to take out what you need from whomever you need it from. Hector sends him to test the limits of Gus’s patience by taking six bricks from the Pollos Hermanos delivery rather than five. Push your advantage -- that’s the lesson Nacho is constantly learning from his would-be boss.
(As an aside, I don’t know that we really needed to see Gus surveying the industrial laundry facility which will eventually house Walter’s lab and conferring with Lydia. BCS has been good about not laying the Breaking Bad nods on too thick or shoehorning them in, but this felt like too much with little purpose beyond saying “Hey, remember how this becomes significant in the other series?”)
And yet, Nacho may take that lesson and turn it against the man who’s teaching it to him. Hector’s insistence on using Nacho’s dad’s shop as a front provokes real resistance in the young man. We’ve already seen Nacho’s willingness to throw his associates under the bus because they pose a threat in terms of stability or understanding. When Nacho places his foot on one of Hector’s pills, after a coughing fit prompted by Tuco earning himself some more time in jail, there’s the hint that he may have something to do with what finally fells Hector. Better Call Saul uses the the inevitability of Hector’s downfall to, ironically enough, create mystery, where Mike, Gus, and Nacho all have reasons to try to take him down.
That’s the risk of all these big events prodding our protagonists to try things that they’d otherwise been shoving to the side. We know that Jimmy’s filmmaking career is temporary, and that Mike’s handyman excursion is fleeting. These individuals will be pulled back into this world and this life despite their efforts, self-directed or not, that keep them away from it. The mixing of those worlds, the humble work at the car shop and the drug enforcer duties for Hector, may also collide for Nacho, in a way that pulls him back into that muck, into using that brutality Hector instills, without any need for further provocation.
Again a more or less cheesy episode. The synopsis for this episode gives that away already but I was pleasantly suprised that it didn't turn out to be as cringeworthy as it sounds, although, to be fair, the "acting scene" on set was cringeworthy.
I love self-irony and hoped this episode would be self-ironic and it definitely was.
Malcolm Goodwin's (Babineaux) deliverance of his line to a TWD-styled zombie extra of the show Zombie High, who said: "You know what would be fun? A zombie show where the zombie is the star." was absolutely on point and hilarious.
Just like his remark about zombies and how they affect him. Foreshadowing much?
Finally they realized that they were after Blaine, took them a while but since this is a show where the zombie is the star I can live with that. Additionally, I am glad that Clive and Liv could work their differences out quickly. Without them working together something's missing. Overall a weaker episode but as a critic once wrote even in its weaker episodes iZombie delivers (paraphrased).
Sadly it seems like The CW postponed the next episode to the 2nd Feb. Oh, well, I guess (and hope) that explains why the backorder was 6 to 19 episodes in total instead of 9 to 22 or so for season 2 because they needed the timeslot.
[7.2/10] Nothing, or at least nothing much, in Rebels Season 3 finale is bad. Thrawn’s ground assault on Attalon has moments of excitement, Ezra reconnecting with Sabine is cool, and while I have my issues with it, the wrath of Bendu creates an interesting enough wildcard in this otherwise one-on-one fight.
But there are a few problems at play. The first is that it never feels like much is at stake here. Attalon falling should be a big deal. The Rebel attack failing to even get off the ground should be a big deal. Instead, my reaction was ultimately pretty ho-hum.
Part of that has to do with what we know about who has to make it out of here alive. We know that Hera does; we know that General Dodanna does, we know that Chopper does, and the rules of television suggest that Ezra will make it out alive as well. That immediately lowers the stakes for Thrawn’s invasion, because we know that sooner or later the good guys will make it out of this jam.
Now that is a fact of life when you’re talking about an ongoing series like this, particularly one meant to kid-friendly. And I’m not arguing that major characters necessarily have to die in order for a finale to have meaning. But Sabine puts it best when she makes her pitch for helping to her mother -- that this group of Rebels always does the impossible. There is a sense of inevitability to all of this, to the fact that our heroes will make it out okay and fight another day. Maybe for a split second, you think the series could go Empire Strikes Back and commit to something more down or harrowing like Phoenix squadron ending up as Thrawn’s prisoners, but otherwise it becomes pretty clear that Ezra and company will prevail, or at least escape, and there’s little excitement in that when it feels like a foregone conclusion.
The other side of the coin is that Rebels has faced this before and come out okay by substituting plot-based stake for character stakes. When the story isn’t who wins or who loses, but how the journeys affect the characters at the center of them -- whether it’s Ezra’s questions about the Dark Side or Hera’s conflict with her father or Sabine’s struggles with her family and legacy -- you can overcome obstacles like necessary plot armor and known futures. “Zero Hour” is mostly devoid of that. The goal is just to survive, and despite some lipservice paid in a scene between Kanan and Ezra at the end of the episode, there’s not much development or attention devoted to building the characters through these events.
I also don’t know how I feel about Bendu as the force that, inadvertently or not, allows the Rebels to escape. It’s not like he hasn’t been set up as a force to be reckoned with before, but the show has played so coy with him, and he’s still so ensconced in doublespeak, that his rage storm seems like a weird development from the character. It’s not quite deus ex machina, but it does feel like a convenient way for our heroes to make it out of dodge in time. I appreciate the symbolism that as cold and tactical as Thrawn is, there’s things beyond his comprehension or understanding like Bendu that make him fail, or at least not fully succeed, but it’s an undercooked point delivered with cheesy laughs and typical angry god boasts.
Still, the progression of events themselves work just fine. Again, we have a clear goal with Ezra and Sabine taking out the interdictor so that the fleet can escape. Zeb and Rex working together to take down assorted walkers has hints of Ep. V, and the old warriors make for a fun pair. And as much as I find Bendu’s role here questionable, the image of his glowing eyes in the storm is a cool one.
Again, there’s nothing exactly wrong with the finale. It doesn’t necessarily bother me that everyone survives (though Kallus’s escape route is semi-improbable). There just wasn’t any oomph to it. The set dressing is there, with big explosions and perfectly acceptable plot obstacles, but there was no deeper meaning, no real character stakes, nothing that made this event much more than a collection of cool set pieces. It would take a lot to live up to last season’s amazing finale, but like Thrawn’s attack, as solid as this episode was, it didn’t even come close to greatness.
[7.3/10] While I appreciate Rebels getting to its endgame after a great deal of setup this season, the epic conclusion didn’t exactly blow me away. It’s nice to see Thrawn actually executing his plan -- confronting Kallus, locating the rebels, etc. -- but there was just something underwhelming after all the build.
I did appreciate a couple of things about this one. First and foremost, I like that there was a clear goal here. It wasn’t just a space battle for space battling stake -- there was strategy and planning. For the rebels in particular, the major objective was to get Ezra past the blockade so that he could go get reinforcements. It’s a straightforward enough plan, but it drives the rest of the efforts.
I also liked the poetry of Commander Sato’s sacrifice. There is some obvious, but still good symbolism in the contrast between the Rebel leaders and the potentates of the Empire. Sato is able to make it possible for his side to get out of this alive by sacrificing himself in the name of the greater good, while Konstantine not only meets his own end, but scuttles Thrawn’s plans by striking out for personal glory. It’s the difference between the two sides in one tremendous gesture, and it’s the strongest part of the episode.
The problem is that the rest of the episode is perfectly fine, but just a bit uninspired for a grand finale. Ezra and Kanan’s conversation about what’s been achieved for the rebels is clunky and not as meaningful as it needs to be. Kanan raising Bendu’s ire is kind of cool in the moment with Tom Baker’s stentorian tones, but gets to be too much. And Thrawn’s monologuing and taunting goes a bit too far as well.
The space battles are cool, if a bit static at some point, with cool explosions and other action. And this does have the feeling of a dry run for the rebel battle in A New Hope, but there’s just something missing here, something that should put this episode over the top and yet makes it feel a bit lacking.
[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.
8.8/10. Lightsabers are one of those holy artifacts in the Star Wars universe, the kind that are specific to the Jedi and signify their oneness with the force. So it was always a little odd, albeit cool, that when Jedi would run into Mandalorean baddies, they would have this darksaber that seemed to allow them to go to toe-to-toe with the Jedi. “Trials of the Darksaber” rectifies that, making the darksaber an even holier object by making it one of a kind and, through an impressive if brief art shift, establishing it as a holy object for the Mandaloreans as well. It is the only such lightsaber, created by the first Mandalorean Jedi master, taken from the Jedi after his death, and passed down to storied leaders from the Vizla clan through the ages.
It’s a pretty big deal for the first and only black lightsaber in Star Wars. (As an aside, I am an old man who remembers when there were only blue, green, and red lightsabers. Now we have purple, yellow, black, and white. I think that just leaves orange and indago before we complete the Roy G. Biv lightsaber rainbow.) But more importantly, it makes the darksaber something more than just a cool new toy for Sabine to play with; it makes it a symbol of the birthright she’s rejected and the pressure of being both a Mandalorean and a Rebel.
That’s what I liked the most about “Darksaber Trial” – that it used something cool, flashy, and toyetic to expand the lore, provide character backstory, and most of all, develop one of its more underserved characters a little better. Getting more insight into the history of the darksaber and the Mandalorean mythos is cool; finally getting to know why Sabine left Mandalore is interesting, if a little trite, and getting insight into what’s driving her is a vital part of making her a more well-rounded and motivated character.
What gets the episode extra points is how well it uses Kanan and Hera on top of that main story. It’s not a high bar, but the pair have quickly become the best (pseudo) married couple in all of Star Wars, seeming like mature and caring partners who have their differences but know how to get through to one another. That gives the episode added weight and dimension too.
One of the recurring threads in Rebels has been Kanan’s insecurities about being a teacher. Despite the air of authority he puts on when in teacher mode, Kanan himself has admitted that he’s unsure of himself, inexperienced and not positive how to do this. So the fact that he is hard on Sabine, starting her off very slow and not giving her a chance to go big and commit to learning the darksaber works to show his reluctance and myopia as an instructor.
The episode does a nice job at suggesting that there is something uniquely Mandalorean about Sabine and about the darksaber, and that means that Kanan is trying to fit a square peg in a round hole by trying to be slavish in teaching her the Jedi methods of lightsaber wielding. There is a hesitance from him here, a bias even (with a nice but subtle subtext of gender bias in the comments about how he didn’t treat Ezra this way) in how he will not let Sabine test her limits because he doesn’t trust her uniquely Mandalorean nature.
That leads to two of the nicer elements of the episode. The first, and another toyetic element given weight, is how Fenn Rau gives Sabine Mandalorean vambraces that help her to replicate Jedi powers like a force push or a force grab in uniquely Mandalorean way. These make the difference, and lend toward the recognition that Sabine has to forge her own path, one that is not purely dictated by her Mandalorean history, but also not dictated by Jedi tradition either. She finds a healthy middle between the two, matching Mandalorean ingenuity with Jedi principles of the blade as extension of self.
And second, it dovetails nicely into Sabine’s epiphany that she can honor both her old family, the one that rejected her on Mandalore, and the new one, who bow down to her and say that they would follow her lead. That’s where Hera comes in. I love the fact that Rebels remembered its history here, invoking that Hera is uniquely position to know what it’s like to feel spurned by your own parents to give her insight and empathy for what Sabine’s going through that makes the difference. Her being the one to convince Kanan to change his tactics is a great choice, that builds on what we know about Hera and the pair’s relationship.
That change in tactics leads to a thrilling action sequence, made all the more notable by the fact that it is, essentially, a very intense sparring session. The cinematography and art direction are both superb, with the evening sky and the desert setting creating the right mood for the heightened moment where Sabine uses the darksaber for the first time and Kanan pushes her to confront her conflicted emotions about it. Much credit also goes to the perpetually underappreciated Kevin Kiner, whose score adds tremendously to the gravitas of the scene.
The only catch is that, heaven help her, voice actress Tiya Sircar, who typically does a great job with Sabine, isn’t quite up to those charged moments. Sabine’s emotional breakthrough doesn’t quite have the impact it needs to when Sircar comes off more overwrought than convincingly distressed. That’s a real difficulty in trying to sell Sabine’s big realization and triumph here (and in fairness, stretches of clunky dialogue don’t do SIrcar any favors), but thankfully the direction and music in the scene help to make up the difference.
The result is that we get to know Sabine much better. We know that what caused her to defect and to leave Mandalore is the fact that, with her creativity and tech skills, she was a weapons-maker, and reacted with horror after learning that the Empire used the weapons she made on her own people. We know that her clan and family name are sore spots because her own parents disowned her for seemingly abandoning her people for this reason. And we learn that, like many in Star Wars and Rebels specifically she has difficulty trusting in anyone or anything for this reason.
The darksaber is the prism through which all of this information is delivered. It is a symbol, both of Sabine’s connection to her people which she is reluctant to embrace because of the bad memories it conjures, and now also of her new family, the one that, whatever Kanan’s initial hesitancy (and let’s say it, prejudice) about training Mandaloreans, is the one that trusts her with the awesome responsibility of that weapon and all the significance it carries, and the one that would follow her into battle, whether she’s wielding it or not. Lightsabers are one of the most iconic parts of the Star Wars universe, and the best works within it use them not merely as cool futuristic swords to slice and dice, but as windows into the souls of those who carry them.
8.3/10. Best episode of the season so far. I've appreciated the show's resistance to doing a straight up origin story up t this point, but it was actually fascinating to see how Luke Cage became the superhero he is today. The dialogue was still pretty rough, especially in the scenes between he and Riva which were exchanges of either wooden exposition or silly cliches, but it's a cool story.
Also, it's the most I've liked Mike Colter in the title role. Maybe it's just the fact that he was doing the strong silent type a little better here. There's a purity to Luke Cage that can be a little annoying (Bullock on Deadwood is a good analogue) but seeing him be a little less in control, to the point where he's basically lost hope and is letting himself be sullied but slowly building himself back up, makes the character and the performance much more compelling.
There's also some fun mythology stuff. While the cuffs and the headband and the loud shirt come off a bit cheesy these days, making them be part of the magical machine that gave him his powers, in addition to a good ol' clothesline borrow, only to have him declare that he looks like a fool once he sees himself in the mirror is a nice way to nod to the source material without doubling down on it. At the same time, I appreciate the symmetry of Luke being at his wits end on his first day in prison and punching the walls, only for him to pull the same trick after recovering from the experiment and seeing the extent of his powers. The "Sweet Christmas" exclamation is corny, but ya had to do it. (That said, the explanation for how he got his name was really forced.)
In truth, there's a lot that's corny about the episode. The love story between Luke and Riva is a generic prisoner/Florence Nightingale routine. The asshole Warden is a cliche, as is the beloved friend who gets used as leverage and eventually killed because of things you've gotten mixed up in. Still, it gives us insight into Luke's psyche and how he got this way. Even little touches like his hair being wilder all around show how this was a more unrestrained, shaggy time in his life, and that he resolved to pull through.
The frame story of him helping his landlord out of the rubble was mostly just there, but worked well enough as a break between the backstory. Seeing him punch through the rubble at the same time he was punching through Seagate succeeded as a juxtaposition, showing how the things he's doing now are advanced versions of things he's been doing for a long time, and drawing a straight line between his time in prison to his time helping people now. We'll see what repercussions him announcing himself publicly have.
Overall, in the midst of all the major plot machinery that's been moved around in the first few episodes, it's nice to see Luke Cage take a step back and do what amounts to a character piece on its protagonist. There's a lot of narrative shortcuts (and I'm curious to see what role Levy from The Wire will have as the experimenting doctor), but it made the character less monolithic and more interesting, which goes a long way.
Well, again, one great scene goes a long way. The scene where Frank and Karen converse in that diner is one of the best in the show. The way that Deborah Ann Woll conveys that she's at her wits end is superb, and Frank's monologue about how feeling hurt means there's a connection to something, and he'd kill to have that connection back is a little trite, but wonderfully performed. It's a powerful, human moment at the center of all this chaos, and the performances make sure it work. The ensuing scene where Frank beats up the mooks in the diner to get the info he wants about the Blacksmith is pretty horrifying, but then again it's supposed to be, and I appreciate the show not pulling punches about how brutal Punisher is, even if it's a bit grusome to watch in practice.
I was less enamored with the whole bit with Clare Temple and Matt. It's always nice to see someone like Clare cut through Matt's martyr complex B.S., but the hospital staff covering up what happened was really vague. I get that they're presumably leaving plot threads that this show or The Defenders can pick up in later seasons, but it didn't feel well developed, and Clare quitting over it seemed like piece-moving rather than something that stemmed purely from her character.
Madame Gao was a treat, and again, I think I find Daredevil's scenes the most entertaining when someone clearly smarter than him is calling him out for not really looking at the big picture. The actress who plays Gao has a great presence about her, and that helps keep the tension up during the expository dialogue. Plus, I even enjoyed the creativity of Daredevil darting among the clothes in the dry cleaner in order to hide. It's a little silly, but it makes sense for what he's trying to do, and helped distinguish this fight from the dozens of others he's had with faceless mooks.
Speaking of which, the final scene on the boat was so-so. Thematically, I like the idea that Daredevil is offering to help Frank, and even to violate his no-killing code in order to do it, at the same time Frank is upset that Daredevil won't even allow him the false moment of peace from killing one of those henchmen. The dialogue itself is clunky, but I like the contrast, that Daredevil doesn't believe in wanton destruction, but maybe in the fact of what Karen's told him and he's learned himself about Castle's background and The Blacksmith, he's willing to make an exception given all that this guy has taken away from Castle and others. Matt crosses himself before saying this, which is another nod to the religious themes that have been floating in the background this season.
The show's pretty much reached the point to where it's mostly just enjoyable pulp with a few scenes that rise above that, but I can appreciate it as slightly heady entertainment, even if it feels like the show is aiming to be more than that at times.
Look, pairing up Fisk and Punisher, arguably the two characters who've made the biggest impression on this show, is just a recipe for success. It admittedly wasn't perfect. The plot reasons for them getting together and for Fisk releasing Punisher are vague, convenient, rushed, or all three. It's hard to keep the characterizations for the two characters consistent and still have them plausibly team up with one another, even as a marriage of convenience, and the show ties itself in a few knots trying to make that work. And Jon Bernthal's very naturalistic performance as the wounded-if-determined soldier isn't a perfect tonal match with Vincent D'onofrio's very good but much more mannered and affected take on The Kingpin.
But damn if it isn't captivating to watch the two of them react to each other in that prison. Just seeing Fisk plying his trade in the "big box" is a sight that makes me wish there could have been a mini-movie or something just focusing his Orange Is the New Black-esque adventures. Punisher's scene getting his answers from Dutton (who informs him that the crossfire that resulted in his family's deaths was the result of a police sting), was nicely intense. The ensuing scene where Frank takes out an entire cell block was uncomfortably gory, but it fit with Castle's M.O. and the gore served a solid purpose of elucidating the lengths Punisher will go to in contrast to Matt. And though things got a little overly theatrical at times, the scene where Fisk and Castle went toe-to-toe was absolutely electric, enough to where the somewhat suspect plot elements faded into the background.
Speaking of convenient plot elements, it's quite a coincidence that Karen finds herself with a de facto job at the New York Bulletin just when Matt and Foggy are so much on the outs, and the aftermath of the Castle conviction still so fresh, that Nelson & Murdock is shutting down. Still, it's nice to see Karen be able to continue her dogged investigator routine, and taking over Ben's post at the Bulletin is a nice organic way to make that work. It helps that Ben's editor (a poor man's Paul Giamatti who's endearing from the getgo), is there to be a foil and friend along the way, with Karen pushing back on him just enough to keep it interesting.
Unfortunately, Daredevil is, once again, the least interesting thing on his own show. His fight with Nobu is fine, and there's something quite creepy about the blood farm he uncovers, but his whole breaking off ties so as not to hurt the people he cares about routine is pretty cliche. That said, his is the most minor story in the episode, and since the Punisher/Kingpin stuff soars and the Karen stuff does very well too, the episode overall works quite well.
I'd like to note at the outset that I'm watching the episodes in the order outlined on Memory Alpha. As such, it will be out of sync with the order outlined here and on Netflix.
It's difficult, I think, to approach Star Trek with anything like a critical blankness as I'm trying to do throughout this project. Its cultural influence is so pervasive that watching this episode for the first time I'm already familiar with Kirk the cad, Spock the logical but trusted deputy and all the tropes that will undoubtedly play out over the course of the series. I doubt that this will dampen my enjoyment at all, but it's worth taking into consideration. The episode opens well as both Kirk and Spock's characters are established, in broad strokes, in the first two minutes or so. From there the viewer is taken through the scenario: through an encounter with a magnetic storm, crew member Gary Mitchell is changed somehow and begins to develop latent psychic powers at an accelerated rate. His concerns become less human, leading him to become a danger to the rest of the crew as he seeks to transcend humanity.
The effects are dated and the writing isn't phenomenal, but the episode does a solid job of portraying Mitchell's change while revealing more about Kirk. What was less convincing was Dehner's sudden willingness to follow him but she acts as a convenient stooge. The confrontation allows all-action Kirk to reveal himself and Mitchell is defeated accordingly. What is most important is that the Enterprise's mission has been established, Kirk and Spock and their individual traits have been introduced and emphasised and the format that I gather the show will follow is demonstrated - the ship encounters an external force and Kirk, along with Spock, uses his ingenuity and brawn to overcome it. Once I know all this I'm able to sit back and enjoy it all - the effects, the bad one-liners, the occasional lack of forward momentum. One of the things I find compelling about the Star Trek universe is the expansiveness of it, and I'm looking forward to delving into it.
