LeftHandedGuitarist

SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL
-33-

"Can I make the call now?"
Holy shit! This show went dark.
What a way to start this episode.
Always appreaciate those Scenes in which we actall see how they do their stuff, in this case forge a gunfight.
So beatifull made…
Nacho is in a lot of Trouble and who is the source of it?

"No more than a week."
Gustavo Fring, again. He creates chaos so he can climb the ladder to the top.
Genius. Who is his tool? The Cousins. Again.
Or should I say for the first time?
His talk with Juan Bolsa is another example how good Gus is.
Always just a little push in the right direction.
He can built an empire. He is made for that.
The Little smile of Gus...
Again: He is not the Gus we know from "Breaking Bad" yet.
He wouldn't have smiled there, not one bit.

As he walked into the School, I got goosebumps, then I saw "Chemistry" and I thought:
Is he in Walts School? But it was even better!
As soon as I heard someone sing...
Gale is back! (Run Gale! Run!)
His love to chemistry is one of a kind.
I have to say, I believe him when he says he can make better than 67%!

And now to Jimmy.
Eight minutes? More like Eighty minutes^^
Clever way to get this guy out of his office.
But who did he got for the Job?
Ira from Vamonos Pest! Nice cameo.

For the letter from Chuck I only have one Thing to say:
The fact that Kim has Tears in her eyes and is so moved by his words and Jimmy had no emotions whatsoever, says it all.
Or does it?
The last conversation with Chuck was so cruel and These words sound off.
Did Chuck wrote the letter only to relieve his soul?
Guess Jimmy made up his mind. The rest is open to Interpretation.

This episode hits me every time, and I always forget just how meaningful the plot is until Captain Keogh shows up with his intimidating Galaxy-class starship and I remember what's about to happen.

Ultimately, the episode title could not possibly be more relevant. Everything that happens eventually serves to paint the Jem'Hadar and the Dominion in full color, and we know exactly who they are by the end. We don't know what they want, precisely—even if we can guess from the name, "Dominion"—but we do know that agents of the Dominion will stop at nothing to carry out whatever orders the Founders have given them.

I did forget about Eris being a Vorta until they all made it back to Deep Space Nine, but I have to agree with @LeftHandedGuitarist on at least these points: Her telekinetic power is never displayed by any other Vorta in the Star Trek canon; and it's extremely odd that she should fail to recognize Odo as a Founder. Eris was meant to return in at least two episodes ("The Search, Part II" and "The Ship"), but Molly Hagan was unavailable. In the process the writers seem to have forgotten about the Vorta's supposed telekinetic ability. As for Eris failing to recognize Odo as a Founder, all I can think of is that the writers hadn't yet thought far enough ahead. Later we find out that the Vorta consider themselves "those who serve the Founders", and that the hierarchy of the Dominion government is essentially Founders > Vorta > Jem'Hadar > everyone else. But this early on, that structure likely hadn't solidified in the writers' room yet.

Certainly there are other little things I could nitpick, like how Jake seems to think putting back the single piece of the autopilot subsystem he removed would be too difficult, but overall this is a good, gut-punching (on account of the Odyssey's fate), first real introduction to the Dominion's true colors.

I hear what a lot of fans are saying, but this isn't supposed to be modern day star trek, this is a time when the federation was just formed and people are still trying to unify their morals with the ideals of the species as a whole. This is a time of desperation, and desperation has always led to starfleet officers to having battles of morality. I think it's a great launching point to the modern idealistic universe that the federation turns into, and find it super interesting that it came through not so moralistic means. At the end of this arc with the klingons we know that they sign the Khitomer accords, and the federation and Empire usher in a new era of peace. I find it awesome how they're going about it, each plot is dynamic and I cannot call what will happen from episode to episode, and the fact that the federations launching point is based in moral ambiguity leaves very deep interpretations that you can consider, such as Cpt. Picard's moral virtousness being grounded on the actions of less moral men, because the federation made it to the point where it was established and unified. I dunno, i'm enjoying the series and am looking forward to each new episode!

[9.1/10] If there’s a well-worn trope from The Original Series and beyond, it’s godlike beings examining humanity to see whether we’re a barbarous race too dumb and violent to evolve into higher beings, or a decent, clever species with the capacity for growth. Hell, it’s the animating premise of The Next Generation! Inevitably, there is some sort of test, or trial, or experiment to determine once and for all whether we humans are worthy of the respect or notice of more evolved or powerful lifeforms.

But there’s a reason Star Trek returns to that well so often. It’s a great way to create the sort of moral thought experiments that the franchise thrives on. It’s a venerable means to examine the core characteristics of humanity, and to use advanced species as avatars to debate the good and bad within us. It’s an excuse to question our humble human morality as measured against the oft-callous ethical mores of those more powerful lifeforms, and put both into relief against one another.

That’s what “Observer Effect” accomplishes with its own spin on that time-tested story. A pair of advanced beings are inhabiting Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Mayweather to observe how the crew of the Enterprise responds to a particular challenge. When Trip and Hoshi contract a silicon-based virus, these long-lived beings are present to examine whether Archer and company’s reaction shows intelligent, rational thinking, sufficient for them to be willing to make first contact. It’s a test that, apparently, the Klingons, the Cardassians, and many many other species have failed.

This is putting the cart before the horse, but there’s a Good Omens vibe to this setup. One of the beings is an old pro, and having observed this test for eight-hundred years, he’s rigid about the procedures and skeptical that it’s worth spending much time evaluating these humans. The other is newer, sees a potential in the Enterprise’s response to this crisis, and sees and believes in a brand of compassion and altruism that his counterpart seems reluctant to accept as the natural experiment plays out.

It’s a traditional dramatic diad, but it works here! Like many things in Star Trek, some of the ideas are repurposed or based on archetypes, but they’re durable archetypes that fit into this context. There’s something compelling about these beings who are gradually more and more impressed, or at least intrigued, by the choices the humans make and the things they achieve, until they’re willing to break 10,000 year old rules to help them.

But before that can happen, things have to get bad. What’s particularly striking about “Observer Effect” is that there are effectively no real stakes. All but the most naive Star Trek viewer knows that, by hook or by crook, Trip and Hoshi are going to make it out alive. And yet, we care about their plight for the same reason the superbeings eventually do: because it’s compelling to see people being stoic and brave and comforting one another in the throes of (what they think is) mortal peril, and because we feel for the people trying desperately to save them.

The scenes where Trip and Hoshi are in the thick of the virus’s effects are low-level harrowing, as Hoshi loses her sense and starts trying to break out of the quarantine, while Trip sedates himself and wonders if he’ll ever wake up again. But they’re also an excuse to let us get to know Hoshi a little bit better, learning that she was kicked out of Starfleet for a surreptitious poker game (and, er, breaking her commanding officer’s arm when he tried to stop it). And we learn that Trip, unsurprisingly, was a tinkerer from a young age. These details put us in the shoes of the superbeings, helping us to recognize these guinea pigs as more than that, as human beings with hopes and dreams or, if nothing else, character-revealing backstories.

That said, the superbeings aren’t necessarily interested in whether humans are interesting; they want to know whether we’re smart. And if there’s a major weakness to that premise, it’s that it’s never really clear what the standard for that is supposed to be. It can’t be just killing off anyone with the virus, since the Klingons and Cardassians apparently did that and were judged barbarous for it. Is it figuring out the radiation cure for the virus in time for it to work? If so, that’s a rough standard, since apparently no one in the 800 years the skeptical being has been at this has managed it. It’s left deliberately vague how the Enterprise crew could pass this test, beyond some weird Kobayashi Maru-esque “dealing with a situation in which no matter what you do, you lose someone” idea that doesn't seem to be the point.

But maybe the point is that whatever the being’s standards, they’re too high, or at least testing the wrong thing, since it seems like no one has made it. Instead, the good guy superbeing recognizes the compassion, the empathy in these humans. Archer, Phlox, T’Pol, and others don’t turn their backs on their crewmates. Even when it looks like all is lost, they move heaven and earth to try a cure. Archer risks his own exposure to try to revive Hoshi when their EV suits are too cumbersome for the fine motor skills necessary to do it. He sends Phlox out of sickbay to make sure his doctor survives.

That in and of itself is a pretty standard trope -- that humans are determined and self-sacrificing. But again, it’s a trope for a reason. It strains credulity a bit that no other species in the galaxy in 800 years of tests was willing to be martyrs for their compatriots like this, and there’s a mild perniciousness to the “humans are the specialist creatures in the universe” idea behind it. Still, there is something flattering and vivid to the idea, that seeing this sort of commitment to one’s fellow man is enough to compel the good guy superbeing to see the light (after an Archer speech of course), revive and cure the afflicted crewman, wipe everyone’s memories and reset the status quo.

And better yet, the superbeings turn out to be Organians, the original (or near-original) superbeing testers from The Original Series who founded the peace treaty between humans and Klingons. It’s a nice touch, and an implicit recognition that Enterprise is playing with familiar narratives and character types here.

“Observer Effect” hits some of the expected beats of that narrative type. You have the advanced species that is eventually move by humanity’s plight and potential. You have the human turning the tables, and accusing the godlike creatures of negligence and immorality. And you have the end recognition that there’s some spark to humanity worth saving, or at least not destroying. These ideas are familiar to any longtime Star Trek fan (which you probably are if you’re watching Enterprise), but this episode realizes them well, playing with its sci-fi concepts, characters, and central notions in a way that’s worth of all the stories that came before.

[8.0/10] Every Star Trek show does the “We just need to use science-as-magic to solve this life-threatening problem!” routine. I get tired of it sometimes, because it doesn’t require any actual ingenuity from the crew or the writers. Simply saying, “We could blow up the Protostar to stop the living construct, but if we [technobabble] the [technobabble-machine], we should be able to disperse the explosion and not hurt anyone!” is kind of a cheat. Sure, it ostensibly requires some in-universe cleverness from Zero and Rok-Tahk to drum up the solution, and from the rest of the team to make it happen. But nothing the show set up to this point really establishes why this would be a good or natural solution to the problem.

But there’s a way you can still make those nigh-magical solutions meaningful -- give them a cost, whether it’s practical or emotional (and ideally, both). In this instance, there’s the simple fact that Dal, Gwyn, and company would have to say goodbye to the Protostar, the ship that has been their home and their salvation after the events on Tars Lamora. That alone makes it tough and sad to let the ship explode, even for the greater good. (Hello Search for Spock fans!)

More than that, though, the destruction of the Protostar to prevent the construct from continuing to destroy Starfleet’s entire, er, fleet is meaningful because it comes with a human cost. For one thing, Dal is willing to go down with the ship, something that indicates how he’s grown into the role of captain. More importantly, it takes a sacrifice from Holo-Janeway.

She has been the den mother to these young officers-in-training all this time. She knows what this will cost her. But she’s also willing to make the sacrifice because she too has internalized Starfleet’s ideals. She wants to save these kids as much as she wants to save the universe. So she makes the choice, and doing the right and selfless thing means losing her with the ship. There’s something beautiful but melancholy about the fact that her time with the young heroes has caused her to grow, to the point that her program can no longer fit on an isolinear chip. The irony of her developing alongside these kids, to the point that she can’t join them in their escape, makes her sacrifice all the more poignant.

There’s also some synchronicity to the fact that the Protostar’s shockwave creates a wormhole that either is what took Chakotay and his crew fifty-three years into the future, or at least allows Starfleet to learn that's where he ended up. Frankly, I thought I understood the whole kit and kaboodle of Chakotay’s disappearance and the Vau N’Akat going back in time, but the “five decades into the future” threw off what I thought I knew. Still, it’s not that hard to get, even if it’s a little convoluted, and the fact that the Protostar’s self-destruction helps create a bridge there gives the adventure a certain clockwork quality.

This is also a strong outing for Admiral Janeway. I don’t know why, but there’s always something compelling about a captain (or, in this case, admiral) defending the actions of her crew to a stuffy Starfleet tribunal. Her speech to Starfleet command is a great one. She pushes back on the council’s ojbections to theft and other misdeeds on the part of the Protostar’s crew, and points out that they saved everyone’s butts with their courage and ingenuity. She rejects the idea that they’re not suited for admission to the Academy, arguing that the baptism by fire they’ve survived is a better indication of their fitness than any formal evaluation could be. And she stands up for objections to Dal’s status as an augment, noting that he’s not enhanced and, more than that, is a living representation of the bonds among Federation worlds. It’s a great stand for Janeway on behalf of what’s good and right, and a vindication of all the good works and maturation our young heroes have gone through.

That's why it’s so triumphant to see them show up on Starfleet’s doorsteps, after landing in the bay. (Shades of Star Trek IV!) Their hard work and good works pay off. They may not be able to attend the Academy straight away, but they’re permitted to become warrant officers under Janeway, thereby achieving their goal to become an official part of Starfleet. It’s a nice middle ground. On a practical level, the council makes a fair point that it wouldn’t be fair to fast track them ahead of other candidates. On a show level, this allows Dal and company to succeed in joining Starfleet, while still making it possible for the basic premise of the show to continue and evolve. I like the line that walks.

The exception is Gwyn, who chooses to go to Solum and try to prepare the Vau N’Akat for first contact. I have mixed feelings about the choice. Mostly, I hope this is a Saru thing, where the ostensible return to the homeworld is more of a pitstop than an exit from the show, since I like Gwyn’s presence. But I wish we got more time with her reconciling her feelings about her dad before just deciding to return to a planet she’s never known and a people she’s never been a part of, over her own found family, because it’s what her quasi-abusive father wanted. I’ve already said my piece, but suffice it to say, I’m uneasy about how the show’s handled this.

All that said, I dig the idea that she’s taken Federation values to heart, and wants to use her abilities to bring people together to help resolve the conflict her father wanted to avoid using more peaceful, progressive means. Her and Dal’s goodbye is suitably sad and sweet, with enough callbacks to their initial sparks to give them a sense of having come full circle.

So the first season ends on a high note. Zero gets a fancy new containment suit. Jankom impresses his fellow cadets with his engineering abilities. Rok-Tahk’s care for Murf and others is consecrated into the study of xenobiology. (I knew it!) And the kids get to join the real Janeway to be a part of her bigger plans. Despite some science-as-magic, the second part of “Supernova” gets the big things right and makes our heroes achieving their goal feel earned, which is what’s important.

Overall, I walk away impressed with Prodigy’s maiden voyage. The show still has cracks in its armor, like the janky animation and occasional bouts of overly broad humor. But it also reinvigorated the meaning and value of Starfleet’s ideals by showing them to us through the eyes of children and outsiders who need them more than anyone. It leveraged fifty years of Star Trek history in creative ways, bringing back concepts and characters, but using them to enhance this show’s main players rather than dousing us with simple nostalgia. And despite the more baroque qualities of its mystery box, the first season uses that plot to show why Dal, Gwyn, and their comrades grew and matured in dealing with these challenges, to where they deserve to be in Starfleet as much as anyone.

It’s nice to have something specifically aimed at a younger audience that helps deliver these concepts and stories in a way that fits their style and needs. As with Star Wars: The Clone Wars, it balances canon connections and grown-up ideas with accessible stories and age-appropriate adjustments. The reverence for Trek is plainly there, and it’s nice to see the show’s creative team move the ball forward, in a way that makes the franchise’s big tent even bigger.

[7.8/10] The first ten minutes of Discovery’s season 4 premiere may be my favorite of the whole show. The episode’s opener is confident. It’s fun. It’s exciting. It’s clever. It’s deft and efficient in its check-ins with all our heroes. And most importantly, it’s a tribute to the values of both the Federation and the show’s protagonist.

This is, in fact, Michael Burnham’s (Sonequa Martin-Green) coming out party as captain. She renews contact with a species of “butterfly people,” and the situation turns from a comical misunderstanding into a run for her life. Even under attack, though, she refuses to fight back, despite Book’s (David Ajala) urging. And after Michael notices her pursuers’ erratic flight patterns, she and her crew put their heads together and figure out how to repair and restore the satellites that once guided them. Her steadfastness and altruism become a powerful gesture of goodwill. The Starfleet officers do escape (after defending Grudge’s honor, of course) and still leave their peace offering of dilithium, marking a new beginning despite the hostile reception.

It’s the most sure-footed, endearing, and true to the Star Trek spirit Discovery has ever felt. There’s action, humor, compassion, principle, and camaraderie at play, all of which blend together wonderfully to kick off Burnham’s tour as captain, and the show’s fourth season, just right.

But there’s also a larger point behind the excitement. Burnham doesn’t want to fire on her winged pursuers because she’s pot committed to rebuilding relations with former Federation communities. Her goals are noble, but she’ll brave a hell of a lot at risk in their service. And why wouldn’t she? She’s been in the direst of straits and still come out on top. Burnham bets on herself no matter how perilous the situation, and her history gives her good reason to.

So begins “Kobayashi Maru”, an aptly-named episode about whether she can accept that such victories aren’t guaranteed, that there are some factors beyond your control, and that good leaders must make the hard calls anyway, even if it means sacrificing the few to save the many. The newly-dubbed Captain Burnham engages in the type of bold heroism we expect from our starship captains, showing devotion to her friends and a commitment to rescue those in danger, even if it means spreading that danger to many more souls.

Deconstructing her history of big swings and disaster-courting theatrics -- and introducing political forces who question whether her calls are logical, even if they’re successful -- points Discovery on an intriguing path as it begins its fourth season.

Sure enough, the crisis of the week brings these questions into focus. One of the finer points of “Kobayashi Maru” is that it works well as a standalone adventure, with enough pick-ups from last season and setups for new plot threads to furnish the show’s long-term storytelling. Here, a Starfleet officer sends a partially-garbled distress signal. A space station is hurtling through the cosmos thanks to some unknown spatial anomaly. And, of course, only the U.S.S. Discovery can save it! It’s some good, old fashioned, meat-and-potatoes Star Trek business, with a chance for the characters to show their mettle and their talents in a life-or-death scenario.

But Federation President Rillak (Chelah Horsdal) arrives at the same time. She’s the most intriguing new element in Discovery’s premiere. Burnham suspects her civilian counterpart of craven political efforts to draft off her crew’s wins from last season. When the President wants to come along on the latest mission, Burnham assumes she merely wants to “check a box” and otherwise coopt Starfleet’s successes as her own.

Nevertheless, President Rillak proves to be both an asset and a thorn in Burnham’s side. She helps talk down the anxious station commander in a tense moment, but may have lied to him in the process. She questions the wisdom of Burnham herself venturing to rescue those trapped aboard, but doesn’t overrule the captain’s decision. She pushes back on some of Michael’s bolder strokes with justifiable concerns, while seeming a touch too condescending in the process. In short, she’s a skeptic of Burnham’s methods, even as she appreciates their results, and has the stature and clout to challenge Michael without being dismissed out of hand. Rillak is, nigh-instantaneously, a strong narrative counterbalance to Michael.

It’s not all just Burnham vs. the President, though. One of the nice pieces of Discovery’s return is how it checks in on the key characters and loose threads leftover from season 3. Tilly (Mary Wiseman) and the rest of the major players have been promoted as lieutenants. While It feels strange for her at first, Tilly also shows her strength in a crisis by helping to manage the sanity-slipping station commander, even as she admits to not knowing what comes next for her.

What’s more, Adira (Blu del Barrio) is a full-fledged ensign now, helping to solve big sciencey problems and conversing with Gray (Ian Alexander) about restoring him to a physical body. Stamets (Anthony Rapp) is jury-rigging the Discovery’s innards to power-up this and rechannel that, while still harboring deep concern for his friends and loved ones. And Admiral Vance (Oded Fehr) has his family back and seems a happier man for it. Some of these check-ins are brief for the time being, but they’re just enough to reacquaint us with the team in an already-packed series premiere.

The episode does dive deeper for two characters, though. One is Saru (Doug Jones), who has returned to Kaminar to mentor Su’Kal (Bill Irwin) and help guide his people into the coming age. There’s plot-relevant excitement here, like the prospect of the Kelpiens returning to the stars or a council where they and the Ba’ul coexist in harmony. More endearing, though, is the lovely words Saru hears from Su’Kal, who’s matured considerably since we last saw him.

Su’Kal gives his surrogate father figure his blessing to return to Starfleet. He reassures Saru that he no longer has to choose between his people and the pull toward the skies above. He tells his dear friend that their bonds, as family and as a community, will remain strong even from a distance.

It’s a beautiful affirmation of Saru’s commitment, his sensitivity, and most notably, the gift he’s returned to his people. It’s also a tribute to the compassion he’s shown to this once-fragile being, with whom he shares a deep love and sense of renewed purpose that’s fulfilled them both. Saru’s departure from the Discovery at the end of last season was never going to be permanent (barring cancelation), but “Kobayashi Maru” gives us just enough of him on Kaminar to be satisfying, while also justifying his return to service.

The other character who receives a little more time and space is Book, who returns to Kwiejan to participate in his nephew’s coming-of-age ceremony. As with Saru, there’s some plot-necessary work being done here. The scenes of Book on his home planet reestablish his bond with his brother and their family. They reestablish what this world means to Book, and his spiritual connection to it. There is beauty in both, with a specificity to the rituals and a warmth to the interactions that makes each feel heartening and genuine.

The bigger purpose of these scenes, though, is to add shock and impact to Book’s Alderaan moment at the end of the episode, as he sees his home planet destroyed in an instant. There’s merit in reminding the audience of the vitality of what you’re about to destroy, even if, given the hit-or-miss nature of Kweijan-centered stories last season, it’s a bit of a trick. Still, It works; so I’m not complaining.

Nor am I complaining about the fireworks du jour as Burnham and the Discovery rescue their tumbling space station colleagues. The episode puts the money on the screen in the process. Those aboard the station tumble upside down in a “gravity nightmare.” Burnham herself whirls through space in a moment of breath-holding silence. There’s narrow rescues, technobabble solutions, personal interventions, and last minute escapes from disaster. All of this is the standard block and tackle of a good Star Trek crisis, but “Kobayashi Maru” executes it well.

Not well enough for President Rillak, though. As exciting as these scenes are, they come at the cost of Burnham trying to rescue every last person, even though doing so put her entire crew at risk. When she and Rillak have a heart-to-heart later, her political counterpart dangles the tantalizing chance to captain ships with next generation spore drive tech and “pathfinder” advancements. But the Federation leader essentially tells Burnham that she’s too confident in the face of uncertainty, too unwilling or unable to accept the vagaries and dangers of the unknown and take wins where you can find them, rather than risking everything to come out a little further ahead.

It’s a fascinating tack. The nature of most ongoing television shows is that our heroes inevitably win. It’s what people want to see. Times may be desperate, but the good guys almost always survive. And in the process, they usually find a way to save the day at the last minute, defeat the bad guys, and rescue the famous faces the audience already knows and likes.

Burnham’s done that and more. Having a character point out the implausibility of that, or at least, the recklessness of expecting it to happen every time, gives Discovery and its protagonist the chance to both blanche at the accusation and grow from it. How Michael shoulders the burden of these command decisions, with a skeptical superior who appreciates her successes but questions whether they’re sustainable, suggests worthy philosophical and practical conflicts to come for our hero.

To the point, one of my least favorite parts of Discovery’s third season finale came when a random brute told Burnham she was in a “no-win situation,” and she responded, “I don’t believe in those.” It was a cheap call-out to one of Star Trek’s most famous outings, with no relevance to the moment at hand. Channeling iconic bits out of context for no reason than the spark of recognition is lazy and pandering.

But as Discovery launches into its fourth season, the show is rectifying that sin. “Kobayashi Maru” takes the themes of The Wrath of Khan seriously. It projects them onto the struggles and triumphs of Michael Burnham over the last three years and asks if she can understand, like James T. Kirk once had to, that even for the bravest and boldest, eventually your good luck will run out. Overconfidence from a track record of daring successes, knowing loss, watching those you care about suffer and sacrifice, was enough to humble even that dauntless captain who started it all.

What that idea could mean a thousand in-universe years later, whether Burnham will learn a similar lesson or barrel her way through more close scrapes and great successes, how she and her friends will adapt to the new normal and grapple with a policial foil, promises the sort of thoughtful, intriguing storytelling the best Trek is made of. Discovery still has something to prove, but on the cusp of the fourth year of its journey, the show knows where it’s going and starts out firing on all cylinders. Let’s fly.

Ensign’s Log:

Burnham’s straightforward, unshowy use of “they/them” pronouns for Adira was perfect. It’s a subtle way for the series to continue its commitment to representation while not patting itself on the back for it.
Speaking of which, I’m still curious if Discovery will continue the thread of Stamets holding a grudge against Burnham for putting Hugh and Adira at risk last season. There’s hints of that here, but no strong confirmation.
The Discovery B-team (Detmer, Owo, etc.) are all accounted for here, and each gets something worthwhile to do as part of the proceedings. But they still feel more like friendly props than characters. I hope season 4 gives them the spotlight for at least an episode.
The Dot robots from last season (and the fantastic “Ephraim and Dot” Short Trek) are back, briefly, and help with the peril in the teaser. I guess Starfleet managed to rebuild this (theoretically ancient) tech, despite almost all of them being destroyed last season?
“Kobayashi Maru” is smart to make us care about the station commander, giving him enough personality, flaws, and nobility, to where it matters to us when he turns up dead. He’s not a regular character, but it adds weight to the issues Rillak raises as things don’t go perfectly with Burnham’s big swing here, and there’s a palpable human cost.
It’s appropriate that the latest ship named Voyager is the one planned to receive new “pathfinder” technology.
Speaking of homages to classic Trek, I freaking hated Jonathan Archer, and I still got misty hearing the opening notes of the Star Trek: Enterprise end credits theme playing over the dedication for the “Archer Space Dock.” Kids, sometimes Star Trek turns me into a sap.
In the same vein, with Burnham and Book messing up a first contact-esque situation by bringing a pet along and thereby offending the local population, Captain Archer’s true legacy lives on!

[7.7/10] I liked this. It start out a little bumpy, and frankly, it feels more like a Trekkie version of Star Wars: Rebels than anything we’ve seen from the franchise before. But there’s a lot of potential here. The mix of characters is strong, and while Dal is a little annoying in his quippiness, he has a lot of room to grow and mature. The animation is a bit rough in places, particularly the character designs and movements, but the ship-based set pieces are beautifully and even stirring.

It’s been a long time since Star Trek made something to appeal specifically to kids. This definitely fits modern young audience-focused sensibilities more than the 1973 Animated Series did. That means parts of it feel a little broad relative to what we grown-ups expect from Star Trek. But it feels like the series’ heart is in the right place here. While the Star Trek connection feels more like set dressing for a traditional action adventure series than a core part of the conception, I like the elements that Prodigy puts forward in the early going, and I’m curious to see where it (and Captain Janeway) will take them from here. Godspeed, kids!

Did SG-1 need to show some Jaffa women? Yes, definitely. The fact that we only ever see Jaffa men fighting for their respective system lords needed to be addressed somehow, and this story did cover it as far as Moloc is concerned.

However, I was deeply disappointed in the wardrobe choices made for this episode. Just like in every video game or action movie featuring women in fighting roles, the Hak'tyl warriors wore unrealistically skimpy outfits that would provide no real protection in battle. These costumes were no better than what Hathor wore* a few seasons ago—and in that case, "Hathor never expects to find herself in active combat" was a flimsy but valid excuse. Ishta and the others here go off to raid other Jaffa parties for symbiotes with no armor at all. It's no wonder they lose so many good warriors in trying to procure symbiotes for the children among them.

We also have to acknowledge that Teal'c's romance with Ishta makes no sense. Had Christopher Judge not written the script, I very much doubt that idea ever would have come up. Though I have no evidence to prove that it was indeed his idea, the lack of any co-writer credits for this script is about as damning as possible. To think that Jolene Blalock took a break from T'Pol's Bermanization on Star Trek: Enterprise to film this, where her character was arguably treated even worse… Sigh.

Honestly, I'm out of energy now to also complain about the huge gaping plot hole: there were at least three symbiotes available at the SGC for reimplantation into Neith, since their original Jaffa hosts had given them up in favor of Tretonin treatments.

In writing this down, I talked myself into revising my rating from 6/10 to 5/10. Whoops.

* — And at least Hathor's skimpy costume covered where her symbiote pouch should be; "Birthright" overlooked that detail a few times.

I'm giving this cult classic television series another spin, starting off from the beginning (and also redoing my ratings up to now). So here we go:

The Simpsons Roasting on an Open Fire is, as the title card reads, a Christmas Special, and it may seem rather strange, that a television series starts with a Christmas special. To understand this, you need to know two things:

Firstly, this wasn't actually supposed to be the first episode. The first episode produced, was S01E13, Some Enchanted Evening. However, a workprint test screening was received overall poorly, enforcing a long rework of the entire first season that took around half a year. Now, having to air in mid December, the decision was made to grab Episode 8 of that season for premiering.

Secondly, the Simpsons where already well known. It was in 1985 that comic artist Matt Groening was asked to do an animated short series for the Tracey Ullman Show, a ~30-minute long sketch comedy show, to be used as a ~1 minute long "bumper" before and after the commercial break. Groening initially wanted to use his comic series "Life in Hell" but when he learned, that he would actually loose all intellectual property rights, he came up with a plan B: The Simpsons, which - as rumor has it - was developed in 15 minutes in front of the office of producer James L. Brooks, just before pitching the idea. It wasn't the first (and in the beginning not the only) animated short that aired as advertisement bumper in the show that started in April 1987, but it was the one that got most attention and by the second season, all other cartoons were canceled and The Simpsons became the exclusive short series in that show. After the third season, that ended in May 1989, the Simpsons where spun off into a standalone half-hour series.

Taking these two facts into consideration makes it clear, how they could start off with a Christmas Special, but it also puts a lot of undeserved praise into better context. Many point out how this first episode already established so many places & figures and their characteristics right from the get-go (e.g. Skinner, Ned Flanders, Patty & Selma, Moe, Barney, Mr. Burns, Smithers, Milhouse and Grandpa, Moe's tavern, the power plant, Bart prank-calling Moe, etc.). If, however you watch them in production order, you will see, that the Simpsons started out as any other series; only Moe, Moe's Tavern and the Pranks where introduced in the original first episode. And other characters get introduced gradually over the next episodes, not all at once and some with large differences in the beginning (e.g. Milhouse being black-haired, or Smithers initially being black), so that this episode had already a rather rich background to fetch ideas from and build upon.

So ignoring this aspect, this episode has rather little to offer. The drawings are still a bit clumsy, the story not that original, there is little humor, no real sassy social remars and the dialogues rather dull. On the plus side, however, it is a heart warming story that has a nice happy end, and it manages to bring you into a Christmas spirit, even if you watch it in the summer.

Starting at 5/10 and looking at all the pros and cons, in the end, this episode is rather balanced out, leaving it at 5/10 points over all.

[8.2/10] There’s a big part of me that wonders what it’d be like to watch this episode if you’re not as steeped in the Star Wars Universe, particularly the animated corners of it. My suspicion is that “The Heiress” would still work just as well.

If all you’ve watched is the movies and other episodes of The Mandalorian, then presumably, this is just a story of Mando running into another sect of Mandalorians who have their own code and their own mission, who team up together to take on one of Grand Moff Gideon’s lieutenants. The episode absolutely works on those terms.

It works because even if you don’t know her history, Bo Katan is a total badass here. What a boon it is to have Katee Sackhoff in the role (hello, fellow Battlestar Galactica fans). She brings the right combination of dry sarcasm, determination, and nobility to make this character work. Bo Katan has a presence in this episode that matches Mando’s, which makes her stand as an equal and worthy compatriot here.

It also works on pure action. I don’t know if I’d call it a secret weapon exactly, but one of The Mandalorian’s best features is the fact that its action is really well staged and choreographed. So much action, both on television and even big budget movies, is so bland and samey and static. But here, the directors and other creatives know how to stage a skirmish with some shady fishermen followed by a Mandalorian rescue, or four Mandos taking an Imperial transport ship, for ultimate tension, dynamism, and above all else a sense of fistpump-worthy awesomeness.

These fights have movements. We get the spark of fear when The Child is kicked into the sea creature’s mouth. We have the moment of confidence when Mando dives in after him, because he’s gotten out of tougher scrapes than this (including being swallowed by a beast in the season premiere). We get the sense of desperation when he swims to the top of the cage for oxygen only to face the fishermen’s spears. We get the glimpse of hope when we see and hear snippets of what seem to be other Mandalorians coming to the rescue. And then we get the cathartic confirmation that, yes, Mando’s countrymen are here, more than capable in a fight, and ready to save the day. It seems simple, and it should be, but so many other shows and movies drop the ball on this type of thing.

The same goes for the fight on the Imperial Transport. Not only is there a clarity of action, with fewer cuts and longer sequences so that the audience can actually process what’s happening, but there’s a nice array of turns and surprises as the sequences build on one another. We get the reactions of the Imperial Captain to help communicate the threat as perceived by the other side. We get some great hallway fights with solid tactics that sell how formidable and sharp these Mandalorians are together. We get the cool twist of the Imperials thinking they’ve trapped the Mandos, only for the good guys to eject their foes. And we get a final challenge with the Imperial Captain trying to go down with the ship rather than let the Mandos have it. There’s all a progression to this that adds excitement and a sense of momentum to the proceedings, rather than just slapping a bunch of action together and calling it a day.

Likewise, it’s cute to see Mando essentially dropping off Baby Yoda at a neighbor’s house to be babysat. The reunion between the Frog People is really heartening, and I like the subtle story of The Child learning that those eggs are alive, that other lives exist in a way that surprises and amazes him. Again, the puppeteering and effects work here is really good and makes not only Baby Yoda but his small journeys and experiences really endearing.

There’s also plenty of world-building and lore for the uninitiated here. We learn that Bo Katan is trying to take back her home planet. We learn that the Empire has put out misinformation suggesting that Mandalore is cursed and anyone who goes there will die. We see that there’s other sects of Mandalorians who don’t necessarily buy into “The Way.” We learn that Bo’s after the darksaber we saw at the end of last season in the possession of Moff Gideon. And we learn that she knows the location of a Jedi, who might help Mando on his quest. Even if you’re not familiar with other Mandalorian events from other Star Wars shows, those details and moments help fill in the bigger picture.

But if you are, holy hell is this episode catnip for the longtime Star Wars nerd! I can’t tell you how cool it is to see Katee Sackhoff make the jump from animation to live action, playing Bo Katan in both mediums and adding a sense of continuity between them. It has such extra resonance when she refers to Mando as “a child of The Watch”, knowing that she herself was once a member of Death Watch, a group that presumably has connections to the sect Mando follows. Her hunt for Gideon and the darksaber carries so much more meaning when you know not only what the darksaber signifies in Mandalorian culture, but how Bo Katan obtained it before and who she received it from. This builds so much on previous continuity in a way that adds richness to what we get here.

That’s all before the mention of motherfucking Ahsoka Tano! It’s not a big shock, considering the casting announcements for this season, but it’s still incredibly cool to hear her name spoken in live action for the first time, by someone who fought alongside her at the Siege of Mandalore no less. We know, from prior shows, what Bo Katan’s very personal history with The Watch is, what she’s fighting for, and whom she’s fought with, which gives so much weight to these hints and interactions. It honestly makes me want to rewatch every Mandalorian-relevant episode of The Clone Wars and Rebels all over again.

Overall, this is another real winner of an episode. It works well on its own as a cool dose of worldbuilding that expands the scope of Mandalorian culture and honor, and as a badass action tale of some quasi-superheroes taking over an enemy ship. But at the same time, it invokes and gestures toward other events in the Star Wars Galaxy that create even more resonance to Mando running into other major figures in the Mandalorian mythos. A series of thrills, both action-packed and nerdy, to be sure.

[7.4/10] A good start to the new season. I like that Discovery is clearing the decks for a show unbound by what came before. The leap to the future is still a bit constrained by having to follow-up the abominable season 2 finale, but it gives the show the chance to chart its own course in a way it hasn't really been able to up to this point.

I don't love the fact that we're paired with a discount Han Solo in the form of Book, or that the show strains to establish a connection (almost certainly soon to become romantic) with him and Burnham. But I do like the notion that the Federation has collapsed, the galaxy is harsh and splintered, and it's up to Michael and her allies to not only find the other true believers out there, but to reintroduce that sense of idealism back into the world.

Little that we've seen has convinced me that Discovery can nail this new stage and era of Star Trek, but it's a compelling premise for a new season, no longer bound by the strictures of canon that happened a millennia ago in-universe. I'm excited to see the show try.

[7.5/10] Another very entertaining episode. For one, I like the futuristic riff on the concept of scientific management on a Starfleet vessel. Having everyone rigorously timed in their work, in the hopes of increasing efficiency, is a good setup, especially when the payoff is everyone working frantically and far less getting done than when there was “buffer time.”

Speaking of which, I love the homages to classic bits of Trek here, chief among them Scotty telling Geordi that he’ll never be thought of as a miracle worker if he tells his captain how long a project will actually take. It’s the origin of buffer time! Likewise, homages to the “great bird of the galaxy” and Miles O’Brien (arguably the most notable ascended member of the lower decks!) were both fantastic. There’s also a lot of TOS-style fun with Mariner and her first officer down on the planet of the week, from Commander Ransom’s hands-clasped punches to his efforts to speechify his way out of the problem to the famous Original Series fight music playing. There’s a lot of little treats for longtime fans here.

But I also enjoy the overall theme and how it plays with Star Trek conventions, chiefly that following protocols to the letter isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. That is, dare I say, one of the core ideas of Star Trek, given how many times Kirk and Picard and scads of others have disobeyed orders or broken from the usual norms when they felt the situation calls on it. It’s fun to see that channeled into a more comedic mode here, at the same time the show uses it for a touch of character development and thematic ballast.

For Boimler, it means getting a moment to thrive when a straight arrow like his succeeds brilliantly in the new framework. But it also means helping the respect-hungry captain realize that her crew does better with discretion, than by dutifully following every protocol until their overtaxed and underperforming.

Mariner’s adventures with Commander Ransom on the surface work in the same vein. Mariner’s resentment for Ransom on the basis that all he does is talk, while she has scars from doing the dirty work of Starfleet to actually get the job does, is a good emotional throughline for that stretch. The show’s teasing some romance for them, which is interesting given their seeming disparate views but surprising common ground. Ransom looks like he’s fitting the Kirk/Riker/Zapp Brannigan mold so positioning him as the counterpart to a begrudgingly respectful Mariner is an interesting move. It makes for a different but no less potent take on the “Do protocols help or hurt?” theme.

Last but not least, I got a kick out of the crystal-worshipping aliens of the week, Their spear-throwing, corridor-vandalizing jag was an amusing dose of our heroes running into quasi-primitive societies. The show included plenty of fun crystal gags to lighten things up.

Overall, another winner. Three-for-three on the year! Very impressive for a Star Trek show’s first season.

8.8/10. Maybe, just maybe, this is Avatar turning the corner. Or maybe I'm just starting get wrapped up in the awesome mythos of the show. I could be biased by Dave Filoni's involvement, but it feels like there's a lot of very positive Star Wars influence here -- the idea of a young kid with powers he doesn't understand trying to fight against an evil empire that controls the world, while attempting to recapture the powers and spirit of a lost age. I've been conditioned for that sort of thing to appeal to me, as the characters settle a bit, and I get more used to the animation style, Avatar is starting to cast its spell on me.

To the point, the opening sequence where our heroes and Prince Zuko try to run Commander Zhao's blockade is pretty much just empty action, and yet the flaming balls of fire in the sky, Appa ducking and dodging, the smoke billowing out of the back of Prince Zuko's ship, were all pretty stunning images that made for an exciting set piece. The show's started to find a balance of the cool action it's been capable of from early on and the mythos and worldbuilding that are its greatest asset.

There's also some clever writing at play once they get to crescent island. I love the notion of the once noble monks who lost hope and kowtowed the the Fire Nation, but there being one true believer who's willing to go against his brothers for the Avatar. And even the video game-esque plot obstacle of needing to open the giant door was fairly clever. The whole lamp oil plan seemed like kind of a cheat, but then using it as a fakeout to get the Fire Monks to open the door by convincing them Aang's in there and then sneaking in when they do is a very nice way to go about it. Even though the fight, including the renewed presence of Commander Zhao, is cool but a little convenient to getting Aang into the room with Roku by himself, it's a nice progression of events.

Once he gets in there and talks to Roku, things slow down a bit. There's nothing especially novel about Roku's reveals -- there's a big event coming up that will make the bad guy even stronger, it's how he got his powers immediately, and you have to get strong really fast to beat him. That's pretty standard fantasy epic stuff. But still, the comet, the Fire Lord, and the guidance of a voice from the beyond work well enough as hints toward the future, something to direct the trajectory of the series that it works. And Aang coming out as Avatar Roku and destroying the temple had a pretty epic feel in and of itself, something eventful and symbolic of the old era, the era of Roku ending, and a new era beginning.

Overall, these past two episodes have hopefully been the show finding it's groove. They've been exciting and compelling and further developed the contours of the show's world.

[8.4/10] What a masterclass in tension that final scene is. Lalo ready to kill. Jimmy having lied to someone who's already proven he'll kill a civilian. Kim seeming in continuous mortal peril. And Mike with a sniper rifle ready to end things in different terms at any moment. The scene is a brilliant one, deliberately paced with the right conclusion -- Kim saving the day by making a bold move, a move with the conviction, like she always does.

It's a great episode because it's one that centers on choices. The key comes from Mike's speech to Jimmy about the decisions that we make, and the way they set us on a certain road. Jimmy is overcoming his PTSD from last week's episode and with it comes an epihpany that maybe he's gone too far, that maybe he's in too deep and should pull back. But Mike basically tells him that it's too late. It's too late for Mike, who's made peace with his role as Gus Fring's lieutenant as the place where his choices have led him. It may be too late for Nacho, who Gus seems to suggest will either continue to serve Fring's empire or be "put down." And it's too late for Jimmy, who made so many choices before he ever officially became Saul Goodman that led him here, and which he can't suddenly turn away from.

But it's not too late for Kim. She quits her job, breaks things off with Mesa Verde, and decides to pursue a life of helping the people who really need her talents. She has the vision to see where this road is heading and the courage of her conviction to go another way. She has the temerity and the fortitude and the boldness to go toe-to-toe with a crime lord and talk him down.

In short, she is the one person in this show, and maybe in all of the Breaking Bad universe, with the willingness to see herself frankly, the self-awareness to recognize what path she's on, and the strength to decide it isn't what she wants. That is, however, a hell of a way to find that out, and one hell of an episode.

EDIT: For anyone who enjoys my longer reviews for this show, you can find mine for this episode here: https://consequenceofsound.net/2020/04/better-call-saul-kim-wexler-his-girl-friday/

[7.6/10] This was my favorite episode of the series so far. I like how this one is tinged with regret for Picard, both professionally in how he feels like he's failed the Romulans, but also personally with how he feels like he failed Elnor. At the same time, I like that we get some of the counter-reaction here, with the local Romulans closing ranks and resenting the broken promises of the Federation and other outsider. Elnor's reaction to Picard, and their strained paternal relationship, seems like fodder for good and meaningful complexity in the show's relationships, so color me intrigued about where they go from here.

Unfortunately, the business on the other half of the show was terrible. Soji and Narek are a terrible pair, and their "spies in love, who don't trust each other" dynamic is limp as hell. Plus, what the hell is the deal with Narek and his sister. Why is the show going so strong on the bizarre incest vibes there.

But hey! Seven of Nine! Sure, the opening credits spoiled it, but she still gets a cool entrance and a badass line to join the show with. This is the first episode that left me encouraged about where we could go from here!

[8.2/10] Another cool outing for the show. I appreciate that after a few more standalone adventures, the show is mixing it up once more and weaving things back together. Bringing Greef Carga, Cara Dune, Queel the Ugnaught, and IG-11 together for a big confrontation with The Client instantly adds stakes to whatever happens next. Most of these characters haven’t met before, so developing them independently in separate episodes and then having them bounce off one another adds a sense of electricity to the proceedings.

But I also appreciate that there’s a lot of character work, and not just action. That’s primarily for Mando, who wants to find safety for Baby Yoda (something he thinks he can only find if he kills The Client), but also wants to clear his name, because he’s a man of honor and of his world, and so living in exile as a violator of the Guild’s code doesn't sit right with him. He knows that Greef’s invitation is a trap, but he also knows he can’t keep running forever, and this is as good a way to make a stand as any. As taciturn as Mando is, the show does a good job of establishing his motivation.

It’s also an episode about change and choice, which is appropriate for Star Wars. We see two exchanges about droids here, and each has a second layer of meaning for Mando. The first is a narration and montage of Queel reprogramming IG-11, taking him from something designed to murder to something there to help and defend. It’s not something that happens overnight, as Queel describes it and the episode depicts, but something that takes practice, encouragement, and care.

The allegory is obvious but still potent -- Mando himself is learning to be more humane, to be a protector and a caretaker rather than just a dealer of death. The same goes for Mando’s comments to Dune about why he doesn't trust the new IG-11, arguing that its programming can’t be changed and, whether he knows it or not, arguing for why he can’t change either.

But Queel has the best response, namely that a droid is neutral, responding to and reflecting what it’s taught. And that adds the second layer to the metaphor. We’re not just talking about Mando with the metaphor; we’re talking about Baby Yoda. In this episode, we see the little tike exercise two sorts of Force powers. He chokes Cara Dune, a traditional move of Dark Side force-wielders like Darth Vader. But he also heals Greef Karga, a type of force power we’ve never seen on the screen before, which can only be used to help. The implication is that this isn’t just a choice being made for what kind of person Mando will be, but about what kind of example he’s setting for his surrogate son, and what path Baby Yoda will follow.

Beyond that highfalutin stuff, it’s just a good episode on a nuts and bolts level. Mando’s crew has a good dynamic. I particularly appreciate the mistrust between Queel and Dune, given the former’s Imperial service and the latter’s past as a New Republic “dropper.” Queel talking about having earned his freedom after being sold into slavery, a freedom born of the work of his two hands, and Dune’s reluctance to cover her stripes, speak to their characters and gives each depth and texture.

Hell, we even get some shading for Greef here. I’ll be frank -- I assumed he was just going to be a colorful bounty-administering tough and not much more. But the fact that he has a change of heart -- planning to kill Mando and take the kid, only to change his tune when he sees how pure Baby Yoda is and the good he can do -- gives him more depth.

This is also a really well directed and paced episode. Director Deborah Chow does a great job in the pterodactyl attack, having it come out of nowhere and seem like a moment of real chaos. She frames the characters expertly, whether it’s the simple shot depth when we see IG-11’s rehabilitation, or our heroes standing on Durg’s in front of Greef’s hired goons. Granted, it’s a little tough to discern what happens in the final sequence where Mando (I think?) shoots The Client, but for the most part, this is a visually superb outing, whether or not there’s action going on.

And hey, we get one more Werner Herzog monologue out of the deal! His comments about prosperity under Imperial rule and chaos and death reigning in the aftermath of the Rebel victory are intriguing, and add some “a good villain believes what they’re doing is right” shading to the baddie. A lot of the dialogue here is very mannered, very dramatic, but the episode strikes the right solemn tone through most of this and that make it work.

That solemnity goes a long way toward the episode’s ending which is, in movie terms, where our heroes have reached their lowest point. The mercenary types are pinned down by an Imperial battalion. Baby Yoda is in the clutches of a speeder bike trooper. And poor Queel is dead, having worked so long for his freedom (three human lifetimes), to earn a life of self-reliance and quiet, only to die in service of a fight that wasn’t his, that he joined from his sense of honor. It is tragic, in the best way, and makes things that much more charged, that much more powerful, as we head into the finale.

[8.4/10] I worried about how this show was going to do Logan/Veronica. In 3 seasons + a movie, the series had already been around the rosebush tons of times with those two, and since the fanbase has thrived on romantic drama, I was dreading however it would get inserted into the show.

But I really like this. Logan has matured. He has become healthier and more in control of himself, and an all-around more stable person. But Veronica is not healthy yet. As she notes in voiceover, she’s hardened into a different sort of person, the type she once thought she could get away from, but returned to being in the movie.

Her basically telling Logan that she can’t deal with him when he’s that healthy, and maybe doesn't love him when he’s better, is devastating and destructive, in a very real sort of way. Logan’s fist through the door is scary, but it comes from a true place. And in the same way, while some of the dialogue is overwrought, her trying to stoke the fires in Logan that nearly burned him up, just because she’s still smoldering, is a really interesting note for the sow to explore.

It also leads to some neat entanglements later in the episode. We see the type of ability that Logan is keeping suppressed when he single-handedly takes out a pair of rough-and-tumble hillbillies and gets himself a job protecting Congressman Maloof. It’s a nice touch that DIck mentions his money issues, and watching Logan be a badass, nigh-John Wick style, is surprisingly entertaining! The way it promises to complicate the relationship between him and Veronica, personally and professionally, is intriguing as hell.

I’ll add that I like that Veronica sees these patterns. She pushes those thoughts away with the carnal and doesn't exactly take Logan’s advice to talk to his therapist, but when she sees a reflection of herself in Maddie, it gives her enough self-awareness to apologize and see the harm she’s caused. As I said in my last write-up, it’s the sort of smart character work that the original show excelled at.

At the same time, the mystery stuff is pretty good here too. We’re introduced to Clyde (J.K. Simmons!) who’s playing off his Oz filmography by portraying one of Big Dick’s associates from prison. We see in flashbacks how he engineered his way into this role, and given how he sizes up and shoos along Dick’s date, he seems like a worthy foil for Veronica, whether or not his “can you find my ex?” routine is real or not. The “previously on” hints that the hotelier who died was leading the charge against Big Dick’s “NUTT” campaign, which makes Clyde an interesting suspect to boot.

We also get an interesting wrinkle in the form of the two Mexican men trying to figure out who killed their boss’s nephew in their own extralegal way. One of the neat things about the original Veronica Mars is how it would address racism, and while some of it’s a little tongue-in-cheek here, you see it through those two characters and the way that lily white Neptune responds to them. The fact that they killed some robotics competition rival is also a neat little wrinkle in the investigation.

I’m also interested in Patton Oswalt’s role as the pizza guy/amateur crime-solver. He seems like comic relief (and another good chance for continuity gags with his tweet), but I had him pegged as red herring comic relief. The catch is that his declaration that the Congressman killed his brother’s fiancée creates a neat fly in the ointment for Mars Investigations.

The same goes for Maddie, the hotelier’s daughter. The show gets a little too didactic about it, but I like the fact that she is an echo of Veronica -- somebody who is resourceful, demanding, and more than a little reckless, who wants answers to questions no one can seem to resolve. Hopefully the show doesn't keep gilding the lily, but I like the dynamic between her and Veronica.

Last but not least, it’s always nice to see some familiar faces! I like how Dick Casablancas hasn’t changed at all, and his “I had to think about two things at once” bit was a big laugh. I also didn’t expect to see Liam Fitzpatrick as one of the returning figures, but it’s a nice way to quickly signify danger to the audience, and Veronica pulling a gun on him makes for a tense scene!

Overall, this is two episodes in a row that feel like worthy successors to, and continuations of, the work the show did in the 2000s. There’s plenty of interesting personal and professional and mystery threads for this season to tug on, and I’m enjoying the ride.

[6.7/10] Underwhelming finale. Again, the only thing I really liked here is Tam’s choice, which is a little unexpected, but has meaning because it’s both a tough call and one that’s well motivated. Tam is turning her back on her friends, but those same friends also lied to her, and the First Order is offering her the chance to have her dream, something Yeager didn’t seem particularly energetic in delivering. It’s a hard thing to watch because Kaz and Yeager clearly care about her, but it’s understandable, which gives it some power.

That’s more than I can say for the rest of the episode. The good guys flushing stormtroopers out of airlocks is fine but not especially exciting. The dogfights and Kaz blowing up the red first order trooper from the first episode is generic and not particularly satisfying. And there’s a fair amount of the usual capering and sneaking around without anything to distinguish it.

Even the blast into outer space, which should be the highlight set piece, is surprisiingly languid. They try to include Big Damn Hero moments for Hype/Aunt Zi and Synara, but it feels shoehorned in. And the whole “who knows where we’re going?” thing feels like a cop out. Hell, Kaz seems barely moved by the fact that his family is dead.

Overall, this is a thud of an ending to a disappointing first season of this show. I’m a big fan of what the Star Wars team has accomplished on the animation side of things, but in its first season at least, Resistance lacked the stakes of The Clone Wars and the engaging character beats of Rebels. In season 1, it’s just another generic kids show, which feels like an insult to the powerful, even redemptive storytelling that Dave Filoni and company delivered before.

The sucking sound you hear is that of thousands of panties being dislodged and reluctantly pulled out of the wedgied butt cracks of the nattering, naybob naysayers, disbelievers, and generally unwashed masses. And trust me, they REALLY like their wedgies!

Yes, it's still early in the season, and there's still plenty of time to screw things up, but, I can wholeheartedly say that it appears the writers may have just found their stride, and are well on the way to achieving balance in the force...., er, wait, uhh..., THE balance between looking forward from and paying homage to established Star Trek canon, without being kitschy, and giving ALL Star Trek fans something to look forward to each week. Kudos and applause all around.

They attacked some BIG themes this episode, especially with the brilliant re-interpretation of A.C. Clarke's theorem that, "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" to "Any sufficiently advanced technology when viewed by a non technological society is indistinguishable from...., GOD." (paraphrased) Believer, Nonbeliever, Atheist, Agnostic, ALL, like Aristotle's 'petitio principii', often beg the question, that is, their argument's premises assume the truth of the conclusion, instead of supporting it one way or the other.

One person looks at he mathematical precision of the Universe, and concludes that it HAD to have a creator, while another can look at the same precision and declare "There is no God". Yet, who really is the fool? Perhaps neither, perhaps both. If a being had technology that allowed then to manipulate and reconfigure matter on a molecular or atomic level, would that not, to those dispossessed of said technology, make them appear Godlike? It would only be their own benevolence that would prevent them from assuming that role.

That is the position our intrepid crew finds itself in this episode. After Michael Burnham reveals to Pike that her brother (from another Mother) Spock had apparently discovered the mysterious signals MONTHS before they actually appeared, another beacon reveals itself, and at maximum warp, they can reach it in...., 150 years. Ohhhhhhh Staaaamennts!!!!!! Now, Starfleet's General Order Number 1, or, Prime Directive, forbids interference with pre-warp civilizations, yet, somehow, they have been led to one inhabited by Terran's FROM earth who are now in the beta quadrant but their technological development ended 200 years prior during Earth's Third World War, when they were apparently beamed away just before a nuclear strike. So, "This is Us"..., but a severely beta version. The dilemma now being whether they get, or even deserve an upgrade. Oh that pesky prime directive..., What's a Starship Captain to do???

Well, knowing that THIS Captain's middle name is "Richard" and not "Tiberius", does keep that from having a foregone conclusion, and watching Burnam play Spock to Pikes Kirk, (got that?) is rather joyous, ESPECIALLY since this is apparently opposite crew day, and the traditional TOS roles here, are, well..., kinda sorta reversed.

Meanwhile, back on discovery, Officer Candidate Tilly decides to break off a chunk of the mysterious space rock they captured previously, and play with essentially a chunk of a neutron dense asteroid, so Stament's doesn't go mad inside the "mushroom network" if he sees his deceased other half again, and she, well, let's just say things don't go quite as planned.

And then there's the impending doom that suddenly materializes to get everyones knickers in a twist. Well OF COURSE impending doom suddenly materializes, we must have homage beats, yes? Do they even wear knickers in space? George Lucas said "there were no bras in space", but there MUST be knickers.... Those uniforms are too tight to go commando..., but, I digress.

So, the, all that's left to do is defeat the impending doom, make contact with the locals who are us, but running Windows 98, while obeying General Order Number 1, yet somehow not feel like total monkey butts if we decide to exit, planet left, without them.. Did I miss anything??? Oh yeah, and Tilly apparently can see dead people..., or she's having a brain aneurysm. Anyway...,

You now have permission to watch the episode.., if you haven't already.. (But then, WHY are you reading this if you HAVEN'T watched the episode?? Get outta here ya nut!!!)

I thought it was awfully early in the series to pull the "series regular might be leaving" card, and that was before I looked at some episode trivia and learned that this was filmed as the third in the season. Thank goodness it didn't air as such. Way too early!

A couple of goofs I noticed that weren't mentioned in the sources I found:
1. Wyatt's entrance onto the holodeck from off camera is not accompanied by the sound of the doors opening and closing, but Riker's subsequent exit does come with sound effects.
2. The Tarellians are allegedly trapped on their ship and unable to transport due to the Enterprise's tractor beam. But Wyatt is able to transport over with no issue. Either both ships' transporters should work regardless of the tractor beam being engaged, or neither should.

Lwaxana Troi is a divisive character, I think it's safe to say. Even with myself, I have arguments about whether or not she belongs on Star Trek in general (especially when she shows up on DS9… oy). At times, she's hilariously funny—Gene Roddenberry allegedly described her as "the Auntie Mame of the galaxy" (Star Trek: The Next Generation 365 p. 033)—but the writers seemed to misuse her at times. I'll leave further discussion of that for when I get to the relevant episodes, though. This appearance (her first) was mostly great.

What wasn't so great, though: This story. Unsurprising, then, that the script for this episode (as written by Lan O'Kun) was going to be cut from the series. Tracy Tormé rewrote it and "saved" the episode from getting cut, but he still wasn't very happy with how it turned out. I bet a lot of that came from feeling like a lot of the comedy failed to make it all the way to filming. Goodness knows the episode seems to make plays at seriousness here and there, only to fall flat.

The best parts really are the funny bits with Lwaxana, and Data trying to observe more of the human condition. The worst parts all involve Riker ducking out of the room because he's uncomfortable with the situation for some reason that isn't adequately addressed. Oh, and the central idea of Wyatt and this Tarellian girl connecting across the light-years through their dreams. Star Trek usually stays away from that "woo~" sort of thing…

[8.8/10] Better Call Saul has never been closer to Breaking Bad. That’s not just because the episode opens with this show’s first glimpse of Jimmy as the Saul Goodman we met on the prior show, in the midst of his fleeing from justice. It’s just because Gus Fring seems to nail down the plans for the facility that will one day be Walter White’s laboratory. It’s not just because Jimmy visits The Dog House, the fast food restaurant and hangout where Jesse Pinkman sold meth.

It’s because this is an episode about people who are outstanding at what they do, who have near unrivaled skills, and what direction that takes them in. That was the larger story of Breaking Bad, a story about a man who had an undeniable talent, and who could not set it aside when the recognition and lucre came with a side of human misery, and who didn’t know when to walk away until it was too late. It’s a show that lived on the conflicted thrills of watching someone so skilled ply their craft, and earned its emotional resonance from both the uncertainty and foreboding sense of where it would lead him.

“Quite a Ride” positions Jimmy in the same way, as someone who has a gift for persuasion, the ability to make an anthill sound like Mount Everest, and a lack of scruples that mean he doesn't mind skirting the law if it suits him. The difference is that Walt was running from a life he resented, whereas Jimmy seems to be running from his own grief.

There’s a version of Jimmy that could maybe have been happy, at least temporarily, working at the mobile phone store in a semi-normal way. Sure, his efforts to convince a passing customer that he can evade the taxman by buying these phones that are allegedly selling like hotcakes isn’t exactly on the up-and-up, but it’s a pretty straight job by Jimmy’s standards.

But it’s not enough, at least not when he has a moment of quiet, a moment to let his grief catch up with him. Sitting on the couch, watching Dr. Zhivago, Jimmy starts to tear up, as the pain of the events with his brother seem to flood back in a way he’s been able to keep at bay. So Jimmy turns to his drug of choice, his favorite distraction, and the thing that makes him feel better than anything else -- a nice, lucrative hoodwink.

He buys a heap of burner phones from his own store, and ventures to The Dog House to unload them to whatever criminal element is around to purchase them, in another one of the show’s sterling montages. There’s a sense in these scenes that Jimmy is both at the top of his game, but also wants to be punished for it. He doesn't know when to leave well enough alone, and seems to be pulled between the part of himself that wants to see exactly how far his talents will take him, and the part that wants to push him into something so bad that it’ll be the wake up call that snaps him out of this.

That wake up call comes. It doesn't happen when Jimmy wanders into a crowd of bikers who are enough to scare away the rest of the riff raff. It happens when the three young hoods who turned him down earlier in the night rough him up and take his spoils from the evening. He returns home, worse for wear, and after a sweet scene of Kim tending to his wounds, he agrees to go to the shrink she recommended.
He seems to realize that this isn’t healthy, and enough is enough. Just the image of Kim standing across from him, a symbol of his conscience and the better life he can have, is enough to spur him to be better and not let another night like this happen again.

Kim, however, is running as well. Instead of grief, she’s running from guilt, and instead of devolving further into a life of questionable morality, she’s hurtling herself headlong into an effort to regain her ethical moorings. That means working as a public defender in her spare time, going toe-to-toe with the same local prosecutor that Jimmy himself used to joust with. But unlike Jimmy, Kim isn’t just using subterfuge and bombast to get criminals off. She’s using prosecutorial screw-ups to hold the other side accountable, telling the young man she works out a deal for to get his life right or she won’t be there to bail him out, and goes above and beyond to help a young woman too scared to show up to court do what she needs to do.

This is all wildly successful, because Kim is damn good at what she does. She knows how to put the prosecution through their paces; she knows how to read a young screw-up the riot act in the hopes that he won’t be back here, and she knows how to be sympathetic but forceful with her clients who need both a helping hand and a little push.

The problem is that it means Kim is shirking her responsibilities elsewhere, specifically with Mesa Verde. She blows off a call from Paige, her contact at the bank, so that she can see things through with her pro bono client. It’s the negative image of Jimmy’s choices in this episode -- a decision that’s foolish and a little self-destructive, but noble, and one Kim promises never to make again. Both Kim and Jimmy are trying to regain their souls, but in very different ways, and for very different reasons, even if both use their god-given skills to great effect in the process.

Mike is employing his expert skills as well. The top of the line, undetectable meth lab that Gus is putting together is part of his grand plan, and so he needs people he can rely on. That’s why he brings in Mike to scout the architects for his place. For one thing, Mike’s shown -- through his escapades at Madrigal -- that he knows how to cover every detail to make sure that their illicit dealings aren’t found out or shut down -- something the show again conveys with a great visual sequence involving point of view shots from under a hood and communicating the passage of time through quick cut changes in sound and lighting in the back of a rocky van.

But he also knows people, like we saw last week, and he can tell when someone is blowing smoke at him and when someone’s being straight. That’s why Gus trusts him, and why Mike sends the boastful guy who claims he can build the lab in six months packing. And it’s why when Werner Ziegler, the nauseous German architect who tells his would-be employer straight up that the job is not impossible, but that it will be difficult, time-consuming, and expensive. Mike and Gus are birds of a feather, they’re frank, thorough, and careful, and it means when taking on a project of this size, they want people who’ll treat it the same way.

We know, though, that no matter how cautious Mike and Gus are, how close they come to bringing this long-brewing plan to fruition, that it all ends in ruin. No matter how well you plan, how good you are at what you do, there are unpredictable elements that can disrupt everything. For Gus Fring, that unpredictable element is Walter White, but for Jimmy McGill, it’s Howard Hamlin.

After his incident with the burners and the muggers, Jimmy seems on the straight and narrow again. But then, during a trip to the courthouse to check in as part of his suspension, he runs into Howard in the bathroom, who looks worse for wear. This typically ever-composed individual is out of sorts, looking disheveled, complaining about insomnia, and stressing over a case that he admits isn’t particularly significant. It’s clear -- to both Jimmy and the audience -- that Chuck’s death has gotten to Howard, that’s Kim’s speech landed, that the very thought is torturing him. It’s enough for Jimmy to offer some kindness, recommending the same shrink that Kim passed on to him.

It’s then that the worm turns. Howard tells Jimmy that he’s already seeing a therapist twice a week. It’s startling admission to Jimmy, one that changes his path yet again. Howard has all the advantages Jimmy doesn't -- his wealth, his position, and his father’s name. He has lived as traditionally successful a life as someone like Jimmy could imagine, the kind of life Jimmy was once trying to emulate.

But Howard is haunted by the same grief Jimmy is, and he’s no better for all the more that he has. Howard’s visible unmooring in the wake of the same loss sends a message to Jimmy -- that following the right path, doing what’s expected of you, doing things the normal way, don’t get you where Jimmy wants to go, and don’t seem to make you better either. So when he speaks to the D.A. about his plans after reinstatement, he speaks of wanting to go bigger, go better. His refuge from grief is his refuge from everything -- to follow his talents to their apex until it either makes his dreams come true or leads to his end.

“Quite a Ride” suggests the former rather than the latter. We know the heights that Jimmy will hit: the Saul Goodman billboards and commercials running 24/7, the suitcase full of money, the cheesy but lucrative law office he maintains. But we also know his fall, his paranoid, button-down life as Cinnabon Gene, that requires him to be demure and inconspicuous, the greatest punishment there is for someone like Jimmy.

And maybe “Quite a Ride” suggests and end even beyond there. After Jimmy is laid out by the thugs who rob him, he lays on the ground in pain as the camera pulls back skyward. It’s the same shot Breaking Bad used in Walt’s final moments. It’s a visual echo and a portent, one that seems to preview what a myopic quest to make use of your own greatest talent, regardless of the ethical or practical consequences for you and the people you love, gets you. We know where that sort of quest ended for Walt, and as he veers ever nearer to going full Saul, Jimmy gets a taste of that too.

Better Call Saul has never been closer to Breaking Bad, and that’s bad news for Jimmy McGill.

[7.3/10] One of the great pleasures of life is returning to something you love with new eyes. I grew up with Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was my entree into the world of the Federation as a child, and in that sense, it will always be my Star Trek no matter how much I’ve enjoyed its successors and predecessors.

But coming back to it after so many years, and after finally sitting down to watch The Original Series, puts its pilot episode in a new context, a new light that exposes some of its flaws, but also exposes the seeds of what would become one of the foundational science fiction shows on television, and for your humble reviewer.

The first thing that stands out on rewatch is how many tropes from The Original Series are deployed here. With a script penned by Gene Roddenberry himself and star scribe D.C. Fontana, “Encounter at Farpoint Station” hits some of Gene’s absolute favorite beats. There’s the godlike being judging humanity for its barbarism, there’s the mysterious object in space that appears out of nowhere, and there’s even the society that seems nice enough on the surface but is clearly hiding some terrible secret.

It’s clear that Roddenberry and Fontana wanted to evince a sense of continuity of storytelling with the old series, and if you excise the various character introduction scenes, it’s not hard to imagine Kirk, Spock, and Bones plopped into this same sort of adventure and getting similar results.

But there’s also some DNA from Star Trek: The Motion Picture built in as well. Despite the fig leaf of the tactical reason for separating the saucer section of the Enterprise-D -- something The Original Series occasionally teased but never put into action -- the event is mostly an excuse to show off some fancy models and graphics work, while the music swells and the camera cuts to any number of reaction shots from the crew on the battle bridge. (The battle bridge, incidentally, seems to exist to create more visual continuity with the bridge of the original Enterprise in contrast to the Holiday Inn Lobby setup of the main bridge.)

The same goes for Riker manually reconnecting the saucer section. While it ties into the plot thread of Picard testing his first officer, it seems to mostly exist to inject a bit of spectacle into what is otherwise an episode that promises excitement to come, but is mostly still establishing its premise and world. The first part of “Encounter” doesn’t skimp on those space-faring moments that seem designed to say “look what we can do!”

But reckoning with the series history also shows the differences between TNG and its forbear, chief among them the acting talents of its lead. What a difference centering the show around a classically-trained actor like Patrick Stewart makes. I don’t mean to slag William Shatner -- he came to prominence in a different era and his style serves the 1960s series’ ends -- but Stewart is the biggest boon to the nascent sequel show.

He has the inherent gravitas to make the more outlandish technobabble sound convincing. He has the chops to take the silly, sweeping commentary on what humanity is or was and make it sound convincing. He has the talent to convey the layers in a Captain who puts on air of detachment when evaluating his second in command, softens once the test is passed, and reveals his own insecurity about dealing with families aboard his starship.

If there’s one thing that makes The Next Generation easier to swallow despite still shaking off the rust of its predecessor and figuring out how to chart a new course, it’s the steady hand of Stewart, there to imbue the new captain of the Enterprise with the strength and level of performance to sell him as a real, compelling figure in this fantastical world.

Coming back to the show as an adult also let’s you see how much of the heavy-machinery placement that inevitably takes place in pilots comes to the fore in “Encounter.” The episode does well to split up the crew into two halves to prevent things from getting too crowded at the beginning. Rest assured, however, that we get some shoehorned-in exposition about Tasha’s backstory, a few character-establishing moments for Data, Counselor Troi’s first pointless use of her Betazoid power, a conversation that underscores the history for Dr. Crusher and Wesley, and some explanation as to what exactly’s going on with Geordi’s visor. There’s even brief interludes for Worf and O’Brien that give them a hint of personality before they’re fleshed out as characters.

Plus Q! If there’s one thing that gives this episode a boost coming back to it as a fan, it’s the presence of one of the franchise’s favorite characters. Here, Q is a little more explicitly malevolent and moralizing than the trickster god he would later become, but it’s still a treat to see John de Lancie plying his trade in theatrical fashion. There’s a bit more Alan Alda baked into his presentation than I remembered, but seeing him hold court, freeze dissidents, and run through the costume department’s leftovers still injects some whimsy and weirdness to the proceedings.

That just leaves Riker as far as big character introductions though. He’s missing for the first half here, but Frakes’s dashing figure receives almost the same level of introduction that Picard does. What’s truly interesting is the great character work “Encounter” digs into between the captain and first officer once the rush of Q’s intergalactic cage and kangaroo court are (however temporarily) behind us. The notion of Picard testing out Riker, seeming cold and distant and yet letting his soon-to-be Number One earn his respect by completing a difficult maneuver and affirming that he’ll do his duty to protect the captain regardless of how Picard feels about it, thereby showing his skill and integrity, is a good way to not only introduce Riker but kick off one of the core professional relationships of the show.

It’s hard to tell whether from the opening hour alone whether the show’s braintrust intended to establish a dynamic between Picard and Riker to match the one between Kirk and Spock, but the groundwork is there, both actors have enough of a presence to fill out the back half of the episode, which feels more devoted to setup and introduction than the nigh-instant fireworks of the first half.

That just leaves an appearance from good ol’ Dr. McCoy to pass the torch to the new crew. He’s 137 years old, reverted to his Foghorn Leghorn-like accent from the prior occasions in which he’s prematurely aged, and is as cantankerous as ever. His back and forth with Data intentionally evokes the dynamic the good doctor once shared with his Vulcan counterpart in a way that’s a bit clumsy. But he offers a benediction on the new ship, and by extension the new show, and it’s enough to hand the baton to the next generation.

It will take some time for The Next Generation to take that baton and run with it. Elements that worked in 1966 but not so much in 1987 linger for a while before the show demonstrates why it’s the namesake for “Growing the Beard.” But even in this early installments, the roots of this essential science fiction show -- from its great central performance, to its unique cast of characters, to its cheesy but high-minded reflections on humanity -- are evident as signs of what the series would become.

[7.1/10] This one is mostly a gag-fest, but the gags are generally good, so it works. Aliens, even an alien fake out, is a bit too out there even for The Simpsons, but things move along well enough. Oddly, it feels a little like “Who Shot Mr. Burns” with the way the episode makes jokes but also takes care to note the time of day and other little details to plant the seeds for a mystery.

There’s the faintest thread of an arc here -- Homer struggling with the fact that no one believes him -- but really “The Springfield Files” is just a big excuse to have some crossover fun. David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson do a good job, and the writers are clearly having fun at exhausting Mulder and Scully by making them deal with Springfield’s inanity. In the same vein, Leonard Nimoy is a laugh riot here, between bolting for his car and wanting to be surprised with his hotdog.

To that end, it’s the jokes that make this one click. Bits like “the bus that couldn’t slow down” or Moe hauling a whale out to see are ridiculous but fun. You can certainly feel the show growing a bit cartoonier here, but the laughs are solid enough to sustain it anyway.

Overall, not a standout episode of anything, but still plenty of laughs and plenty of fun.

That reuninion of the Starks after so long, after so many seasons was so rewarding. And yet they all clearly showed the distance that has grown in between them during that time. Such great acting.

And wow that duel between Arya and Brienne was so amazing! I loved seeing the two different styles and the mutual respect that appeared after. That delightful smirk of Sansa and her answer of "no one" was perfect.

The cave scene was great for two reason. 1) I also loved the chemistry between Daenerys's and Jon Snow was great in the cave. Besides deepening the backdrop of the almost forgotten children of the forest lore (for me anyways), it 2) strengthened Jon's case that the White Walkers are REAL. The blue eyes in the cave drawing and that music was great at reminding me of the battle at Long Lake- in that eerie and terrifying finale where all the dead rose again as Jon rowed away from the beach.

I honestly thought that Jon was gonna tell Daenerys to attack King's Landing. The response he made started so neutral in the beginning I didn't think he was gonna say to not go. Besides that I loved the tension between Theon and Jon was great as well. There's so much tension going back and forth in this series now that there's a longer history of betrayals and cruelties this season is turning out to be really exciting.

This battle at the end totally exceeded my expectations. Small battle- another loss like the short conclusive clips of the Casterly Rock battle and in the seas with the Greyjoys.

That moment when u hear the thunder I knew the Dothraki where coming~ what I didn't expect was to see a dragon......HOLY SHIT LOL those precious seconds before the dragon spew fire was glorious. Was really anxious during the whole battle to see if any of my favorite characters would be killed. Danerys was there, Jamie was there, Tyrion was there, . Knowing that GoT has no qualms about killing main characters made this battle extremely tense. xD

Having Tyrion there and Jamie on the same battlefield also brought huge tension. Add into addition the new ballista as well as that shot into the dragon made me think Daenerys was done for. Then I thought Jamie was done for from that fire breath. Honestly this battle had me on the edge of my seat the whole battle. Jeezus.

[8.6/10] One hell of a premiere and one hell of a surprise. It delivered what I want from a show like Rick and Morty -- crazy, imaginative, absolutely insane sci-fi experimentation and adventure, with dark introspective emotional and character material to support it. The bits of the sci-fi weirdness, from Inception-like brain journeys to transferred consciousness to battles between disparate forces in space were colorful and mind-bending the whole way through.

But what I really loved about this episode was how it asked (and maybe answered) the question I was left asking at the end of the last episode -- what motivates Rick Sanchez? Is he a hero, as Summer thinks, a demon or crazy god like Morty thinks, or somebody whose motivations are just so opaque and arbitrary that he more or less defies that sort of characterization? The episode seems to give a troubling answer, one that pulls away from the way Rick was softened over the course of S2, but it spends most of the episode teasing you in either direction, making you think he's a hero or on an opportunist or an amoral crackpot or just a complicated guy.

I'm not sure I'm any more clarified on what he wants or what kind of guy he is than I was before (and Morty clearly still has its issues), but I love the way the show leans into that complexity, even amid the crazy science fiction wonderment and disaster taking place all around.

On the whole, this was one thrill of a surprise premiere that sets the stage for the rest of the season, changes enough of the status quo to make things meaningful, and delivers another exploration of what makes Rick tick, and how that affects his grandchildren, without giving any easy answers.

[4.2/10] Look, Twin Peaks just needs to stop trying to write romantic dialogue of any sort, but especially dialogue involving the teenagers. Maybe it’s that the younger actors on the show are not nearly as adept as the adults. Maybe it’s that Lynch & Co.’s conception of what teenagers sound like, or ought to sound like, is just so painfully off that no actor could salvage it, but my god, it is consistently one of the most painful parts of the show and that is no small feat.

Unsurprisingly, two of the worst offenders on that front are scenes involving James Hurley. His colloquy with Donna on the sidewalk after rescuing her and Maddy from an insane, vengeful Harold is the stuff that facepalms are made of. It’s not at all clear what motivated them to reconcile or feel differently than they had been (I guess Donna realizes Harold is a nut which breaks her attraction, and James realizes he cares about Donna enough to rescue her, even though he rescues Maddy first?). But regardless, the lines about how if they just put their two hearts together nothing can stop of them is the worst kind of purple prose and neither of the young actors can deliver it in anything approaching a solid fashion.

The whole sequence involving Bobby’s last minute defense of the two girls is pretty weak too. Maybe I should forgive the show it’s corny swerve, but it’s a very convenient way to get Maddy and Donna out of harm’s way just in the nick of time. There’s something that feels really cheap about that, particularly with the way the prior episode ended on a threatening cliffhanger. I’m not saying I wanted to see the girls hurt by Harold in any way, but anytime you let your characters evade the seemingly mortal peril you set them up for in a cliffhanger without a single real consequence or hardship from it, it’s hard for the conflict as a whole not to feel like a waste.

The other terrible scene involving James is his farewell to Maddy down by the water. It’s another overwritten set of lines, with Maddy talking about how it was nice to get to try Laura’s life on for size and James admitting he was trying to relive his time with her. Those sentiments aren’t bad, but the way they’re put down in the script is overly florid and unbelievable. Sure, teenager can be melodramatic and embellish their speech, but the conversation between Maddy and James never feels sincere, just overblown.

There’s also some horrid stuff with Shelley, Bobby, and Leo. Again, these are all characters who have pretty well outlived their usefulness on the show, to the extent they were useful in the first place. (Though again, it’s worth noting that nigh-lifeless vegetable is the part Eric DaRae was born to play.) Presumably, at some point , Leo is going to wake up and try to take his revenge on Bobby and Shelly, and the two of them bitching about their insurance scam going awry and making out in front of him will come back to bite them. But for now it just seems like a lot of wheel-spinning and table-setting for that seemingly inevitable conclusion.

We also get David Lynch casting himself in his own show, which is always a dicey proposition. (Though technically he was already cast in vocal form as the same character, so maybe there’s a reprieve there.) Him playing Cooper’s boss as someone hard of hearing has some odd comic value to it, so there’s that, and him delivering an avuncular attaboy to Cooper while also expressing some concern that he’s in too deep with this case has some merit in it too.

But hey, we also get some of the biggest and most meaningful progress in the Laura Palmer case we’ve had in a while. Hawk tracks down the one-armed man, and when the folks down at the police station corner him and force him to undergo his seizure without his medicine, the truth comes spilling out. The one-armed man has been possessed by Mike, some sort of supernatural creature who used to be partners with Bob. He basically reiterates the story we got from Cooper’s dream, with a few details here and there.

I’ll admit, I kind of like it. The supernatural elements to this show have often been hit or miss, but this feels well-established, or at least established well enough. The performance from the one-armed-man is a little outsized, but the actor does a good job of distinguishing the somewhat timid shoe salesman from the more self-assured, ethereal being that borrows his form. There’s some hokey parts involved, but it works about as well as it needs to, and it’s one of the few parts of this episode that can say that. I can only hope that, as the show seems to be circling ‘round the endgame for the Laura Palmer storyline, more scenes from the episode follow that tack.

Warning, Spoilers below for some predictions on who killed Laura Palmer

Mrs. Bloom’s guess is that it’s Leland, with her reasoning being that everyone who saw Bob was connected to him in some way, that he himself saw Bob when he was a kid, and that he’s in the hotel all the time, making him a good candidate to be possessed by the evil spirit.

My guess is that it’s Audrey’s brother, the one who wears the Indian headdress all the time. I’ll admit, I don’t quite have the good reasons that Mrs. Bloom does, but she and I were discussing characters we hadn’t seen in a while (what the hell happened to Donna’s original boyfriend, Mike?) and I realized that he’d been MIA for some time. Other than him obviously being at the hotel a lot, I don’t have a great rationale for why he’s the one that Bob possessed, but there’s something about the disturbed manchild who no one would suspect because what motive would he have in this town full of backstabbing and treachery that feels like the kind of faux-profound irony and out of left field answer this show would go for.

We’ll see who’s right! Or if there’s even an answer at all!

6.9/10. This was a very confused episode, that was trying to do a lot of good things, but never really manages to get them off the ground due to, at times, incoherent plotting or just plain dumb logic. Let's go through them!

Clare and Dr. Burstein managing to fix Luke was a fairly tense scene...that didn't make much sense. I mean, to some degree you have to go with comic book logic and accept the technobabble, but why heat was necessary to make Luke's skin more pliable, when that level of heat was what made his skin strong in the first place, is fairly puzzling. Still, the show replicated the sort of ER hecticness of a patient flatlining to keep the intensity of the scene up, so you can kind of let them get away with it.

But that's not the only piece of dumb logic in the episode. When Diamonback is trying to frame Luke, and get him tarred as copkiller, it's pretty ridiculous that he himself goes out in a hoodie and uses some superpowered punch thing to do it. The reveal of his shared biology with Luke means there's the grain of a good idea there, but the two don't really look alike, in build or in their facial structure, and Diamondback yelling out "I'm Luke Cage!" just seemed humorous. Maybe you can cut the show some slack for trying to provide a commentary on the problems with cross-racial eye-witness identification, but I'm not sure I give the show credit for such headiness, and either way, it doesn't really work within the logic of the show.

But it works flawlessly, to where Misty is the only person who seems to doubt that Luke was the one who punched that nice cop to death. What, however, is her argument beyond the fact that she just doesn't think Luke would do that (despite the fact that there's dashcam footage of him punching other cops across the block when feeling cornered)? This assailant was wearing a backpack. Luke doesn't wear a backpack! This case is airtight! It's not like Luke could have just put on a backpack for some reason! Yet again, the show tries and fails to show that Misty is a sharp detective. It knows how it wants to present her, but doesn't have the writing to actually demonstrate that she's good at her job beyond the "visualize the crime scene" ability.

Of course we jump back to Dr. Burstein's barn, where Luke uses the laptop to discover that Reva was in on the whole thing. What should be a piercing emotional reveal falls flat due to Mike Colter's acting, which continues to be not quite enough at heightened moments like these. It's an interesting story, feeling betrayed by the one person who gave you hope in a dark place, but Colter can't really sell the moment. His anger and destruction of Burstein's lab/barn feels more like a plot save than a canny narrative choice. it's supposed to be cathartic and feel like justice in Luke preventing someone else from going through what he's been through, but it's shortsighted since he may need those facilities again if he gets shot once more.

It also leads to more dull non-chemistry between Luke and Clare that doesn't really add up to anything but Luke going back to visit his dad's old church in Georgia. I really like the way the scene is shot and edited -- with smooth transitions between the past and the present as Luke stares at the dilapidated chapel and remembers what happened when he was a kid -- but the reveals are underwhelming. There's a fairly direct Isaac and Ishamel parallel going on, and I can I appreciate that as thematic subtext to the issues between Luke and Diamondback, but the show does a pretty weak job at showing how young Luke could have missed his Dad having an affair with Diamondback's mom, while adult Luke can put the pieces together. The things he remembers aren't exactly subtle, and while you can handwave it with Luke having repressed the memories until the site of his dad's church made them all flood back, it seems very strange that he wouldn't have put this together sooner.

Things get dumber still after the cops start beating around the block trying to get info on where Luke is. Again, I like what the show is trying to do here. There is a The Wire-esque quality of these scenes of cops being angry at the loss of one of their own, and taking it out on the streets, hassling corner boys and being needlessly rough. That side of things rings true and feels motivated, even if, again, everyone feels like a sucker for falling for Diamondback's ruse so easily. The cop interrogating Little Lonnie and going too far feels like a bit much, a bit too calculated to tug on your heartstrings, but it works for what the show's going for.

The problem is that since Mariah is being strongarmed by Diamondback to try to sell the public on Luke Cage and powered people generally as a threat, the show has to tie her pitch for the police department buying superpowered weapons from Diamondback to the cops beating up this kid, and it doesn't really add up. There's a strange "the cops abused their power, so we should give them really powerful weapons" logic that doesn't make any sense, but for this episode in particular, you just kind of have to go with the flow and accept that nothing makes sense and the story's just going where it needs to go regardless of the demands of basic logic.

So of course, Luke returns to Harlem (this whole thing seemed to happen very quick, how long did his trip and curing take and visit home take?) and Misty is after Diamondback at Harlem's Paradise and Luke jumps into save her as we hit a cliffhanger. Why the hell not? It's vaguely action-y, and it gives us some cool scenes of Mariah riling up the crowd and showing herself as an expert manipulator and showman even when the pitch makes no sense. With Alfre Woodard's delivery, I almost believed it.

That's the big problem though. This show wants to traffic in real life tensions between police and the black community. It wants to play in the realism of its setting and the genuine issues facing the people of Harlem and similar urban areas. But it has to marry all of that with an out there comic book storyline, involving secret brothers, magic labs in barns, and elaborate schemes to sell superguns. The result is something that often feels very stitched together and not really doing justice to either side of the equation. You can employ comic book logic the whole way through, or you can try to ascribe for something approaching realism, but finding the balance is a tricky business, and it's something that all of Marvel's Netflix shows have struggled with to some degree. Luke Cage in particular seems stuck in the middle, with no clear idea on how to reconcile its hardscrabble atmosphere and its superhero roots.

6.8/10

Lincoln is one of the most boring characters on a show that has had to fight accusations that it's dull. Focusing the main story of the episode on him was a recipe for doldrums that the show lived up to. Even seeing him go all Static Shock on the power lines or bus or guards didn't do much for me. Accidentally killing a friend who's mistrustful of you should be a meaningful event, but it was constructed so haphazardly, and with such an uninteresting character, that I barely cared. The lack of chemistry between him and Skye/Daisy meant that I only groaned when they kissed. Daisy herself has had to overcome bland mary sue characterization, and pairing her with a piece of stubbly milquetoast doesn't do anything to help that.

I did appreciate Coulson's part of it. I go back and forth on his interactions with Rosalind. On the one hand, at times it feels like a dinner theater version of Hepburn and Tracy. On the other hand, when things are clicking, it makes Coulson feel like a human being and not just a delivery mechanism for exposition, high-minded ideals, and ill-fitting quips. I'm cautiously optimistic about the storyline, and especially pleased that they tied it to Coulson learning lessons from the "Real Shield" debacle.

Hunter and May's storyline worked well enough, as they're two of the better characters on the show, even if the "fight club to get into Hydra" plot felt a bit tacked on. May struggling to not just get right down to business in the pub while Hunter and his mate were Brit-ing it up was amusing, and her and Hunter feinting toward what happened during May's vacation was nice. I was surprised at how bloody they let the Hunter fight get, and it's always nice to see May kicking some ass, even if it felt shoehorned in. Again, we'll see where it goes.

And as usual, Fitz and Simmons are the best thing about the show, with Fitz doing everything he can to get things back to normal even if it's not what Simmons needs, and Simmons convincingly showing the psychological scars from her experiences. Are Fitz and Simmons's storylines any better than anyone else's? Probably not, but they're better actors than most on the show, and they sell the emotional undercurrent of all of their stories, which gives them greater weight than anyone but May can muster.

(Oh, and what was with all of the dutch angles in this episode? Seemed like a weird quirk in the way the episode was shot.)

6.8/10

Lincoln is one of the most boring characters on a show that has had to fight accusations that it's dull. Focusing the main story of the episode on him was a recipe for doldrums that the show lived up to. Even seeing him go all Static Shock on the power lines or bus or guards didn't do much for me. Accidentally killing a friend who's mistrustful of you should be a meaningful event, but it was constructed so haphazardly, and with such an uninteresting character, that I barely cared. The lack of chemistry between him and Skye/Daisy meant that I only groaned when they kissed. Daisy herself has had to overcome bland mary sue characterization, and pairing her with a piece of stubbly milquetoast doesn't do anything to help that.

I did appreciate Coulson's part of it. I go back and forth on his interactions with Rosalind. On the one hand, at times it feels like a dinner theater version of Hepburn and Tracy. On the other hand, when things are clicking, it makes Coulson feel like a human being and not just a delivery mechanism for exposition, high-minded ideals, and ill-fitting quips. I'm cautiously optimistic about the storyline, and especially pleased that they tied it to Coulson learning lessons from the "Real Shield" debacle.

Hunter and May's storyline worked well enough, as they're two of the better characters on the show, even if the "fight club to get into Hydra" plot felt a bit tacked on. May struggling to not just get right down to business in the pub while Hunter and his mate were Brit-ing it up was amusing, and her and Hunter feinting toward what happened during May's vacation was nice. I was surprised at how bloody they let the Hunter fight get, and it's always nice to see May kicking some ass, even if it felt shoehorned in. Again, we'll see where it goes.

And as usual, Fitz and Simmons are the best thing about the show, with Fitz doing everything he can to get things back to normal even if it's not what Simmons needs, and Simmons convincingly showing the psychological scars from her experiences. Are Fitz and Simmons's storylines any better than anyone else's? Probably not, but they're better actors than most on the show, and they sell the emotional undercurrent of all of their stories, which gives them greater weight than anyone but May can muster.

(Oh, and what was with all of the dutch angles in this episode? Seemed like a weird quirk in the way the episode was shot.)

6.8/10

Lincoln is one of the most boring characters on a show that has had to fight accusations that it's dull. Focusing the main story of the episode on him was a recipe for doldrums that the show lived up to. Even seeing him go all Static Shock on the power lines or bus or guards didn't do much for me. Accidentally killing a friend who's mistrustful of you should be a meaningful event, but it was constructed so haphazardly, and with such an uninteresting character, that I barely cared. The lack of chemistry between him and Skye/Daisy meant that I only groaned when they kissed. Daisy herself has had to overcome bland mary sue characterization, and pairing her with a piece of stubbly milquetoast doesn't do anything to help that.

I did appreciate Coulson's part of it. I go back and forth on his interactions with Rosalind. On the one hand, at times it feels like a dinner theater version of Hepburn and Tracy. On the other hand, when things are clicking, it makes Coulson feel like a human being and not just a delivery mechanism for exposition, high-minded ideals, and ill-fitting quips. I'm cautiously optimistic about the storyline, and especially pleased that they tied it to Coulson learning lessons from the "Real Shield" debacle.

Hunter and May's storyline worked well enough, as they're two of the better characters on the show, even if the "fight club to get into Hydra" plot felt a bit tacked on. May struggling to not just get right down to business in the pub while Hunter and his mate were Brit-ing it up was amusing, and her and Hunter feinting toward what happened during May's vacation was nice. I was surprised at how bloody they let the Hunter fight get, and it's always nice to see May kicking some ass, even if it felt shoehorned in. Again, we'll see where it goes.

And as usual, Fitz and Simmons are the best thing about the show, with Fitz doing everything he can to get things back to normal even if it's not what Simmons needs, and Simmons convincingly showing the psychological scars from her experiences. Are Fitz and Simmons's storylines any better than anyone else's? Probably not, but they're better actors than most on the show, and they sell the emotional undercurrent of all of their stories, which gives them greater weight than anyone but May can muster.

(Oh, and what was with all of the dutch angles in this episode? Seemed like a weird quirk in the way the episode was shot.)