It's been more than 5 years since I read the book, but I don't remember it being this bad!
The whole movie was so awkward and cringey. The dialogue was weird and stilted, the transitions between scenes were abrupt and made no sense at all, and the overall movie felt like badly written fanfiction (so many things were left unexplained!).
I know the novel wasn't a masterpiece, but this adaptation was absolute garbage. Whoever the screenwriters were, they have no business adapting novels into screenplays. So, so bad.
The actress playing Luce could never have passed for a 17 year old. And both her interactions with Cam and Daniel were so forced and in your face. The scenes where her face was mere inches from one of the guys' faces and they just stared at each other for a full minute without saying anything were so uncomfortable. Like, stop trying so hard to convince us she has chemistry with them. The relationships were overdone to the point that they felt painfully fake and plastic.
Because the screenplay and dialogue were so bad, it made it seem like the actors were terrible. But since I've seen a few of them on other stuff and know for a fact they can, actually, act, I won't criticize that aspect of the movie.
Judging by how bad this movie was, I don't think we'll be getting any more movies from the Fallen saga.
I think this is my favourite show at the moment. There was a period where I was watching this (The Good Friend, as my sister and I stupidly refer to it) as well as Big Little Lies and Feud, and I couldn't have been happier. Strong, female-led drama is what I crave in a TV show (one of the stereotypically gay things about me). This season has been a belter, as well. They're playing with the form of television, having started to break the mould set by network television in the first couple of seasons, now they are going all out to see how far they can push the medium, and still tell a compelling, dramatic and at times, hysterically funny story.
The confrontation referred to in the episode title is just one of the moments where the show breaks out of traditional television narrative to great effect. There are odd moments when people start singing (I can't even begin to understand what was going on with Michael Sheen singing the Jackson Five song "I'll Be There" over the closing moments of a recent episode), and real-world back stories to the events in the show are told in song, with accompanying animation. These disparate elements really should not work together, but somehow the whole is greater than the sum of its parts (and the parts are already fairly heavyweight, amazing cast, showrunners honed on a decade of network television, being let loose on a niche streaming service).
Even if you never really got into The Good Wife, this show is still worth a look.
If you are, like me, in Australia, The Good Fight is available weekly on SBS.
https://www.sbs.com.au/ondemand/program/the-good-fight
After a couple of superficially entertaining but broad and Michael Sheen-infected episodes, The Good Fight bounces back big time with its best episode in... ever? Yeah, this might be my favorite episode of the show. It's not only that Blum's presence is only strongly felt, not seen, but also that this episode is super-focused on the firm in every plot. And they really perfect the show's balancing act, between contemporary politics and character dynamics, between big picture theme and minute personal consequences.
How Lucca's video sparks off the rumination of the firm's racial bias (or its "supposed" lack of, depending on where you stand on the corporate ladder) is complex, difficult, and so damn exhilaratingly incendiary in the way it pushes our character identification of certain favorites against the important movement that needs to be pushed forward. It's all captured in how legitimate the grievances of Jay and Lucca are about this issue, but so too are the feelings on their faces for Maia when they learn she will be caught up in this. Even the sideplots of Julius/Marissa and Diane/Liz tie directly into this gray area, with all characters learning what needs to be done is never black and white, or that simple. This is The Good Fight at its best, really.
Best lines
I’m waiting for an old friend - Bran
You left me for dead - Hound
I also robbed you - Arya
I’ve always had blue eyes! - Tormund
Whatever they want - Dany
but
It had its moments - Sansa
They need wheelchair ramps in Winterfell. They left Bran in the courtyard overnight!
Parallelism between Season 1 Episode 1 and Season 8 Episode 1
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ S08E01 Jon: "Where's Arya?" Sansa: "Lurking somewhere."Foreshadowing (from different Seasons/Episodes.)
01. S03E05“ “Let’s not go back. Let’s stay here a while longer,” Ygritte tells Jon. “I don’t ever want to leave this cave, Jon Snow.” S08E01 “We could stay a thousand years. No one would find us,” Daenerys says to Jon.02. Sam is suggesting rebelling against the Targaryen because they burned his father and brother alive. Similar to when Robert's Rebellion, began when Rhaegar Targaryen, allegedly abducted Robert's betrothed, Lyanna Stark.
When I heard Doctor Who was doing an episode about Rosa Parks, my first reaction was 'huh?". One, because I didn't expect a British show to tackle such a crucial piece of the American history. And two, because I was afraid that they wouldn't do it justice. It's such a delicate subject matter and they really needed to find the perfect balance for it not to be a complete failure.
And find the perfect balance they did.
I mean, I'm a white girl living in Poland, so far be it from me to claim to be an expert when it comes to the Civil Rights Movement. I'm absolutely not. But I thought this episode was amazing. The actress who played Rosa did a phenomenal job. And I'm pretty sure I held my breath for like 5 minutes at the end there. The moment the Doctor realized that they had to stay on the bus and watch, unable to help because they needed to keep history intact... It was devastating. But Rosa's choice felt absolutely triumphant. I love that we got to see her receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom. And what a lovely ending with the asteroid.
Jodie really nailed it once again, especially the more intense moments. I loved both her conversations with the other time traveler (whose name I didn't catch because my ears suck and there are no subtitles yet). I can't be the only one who saw a bit of Twelve shining through. The editing, with the quick cuts between the two characters and the (sometimes extreme) close-ups, made those scenes feel very dynamic and intimate. I also adore her facial expressions. Her face does all kinds of crazy things and it's so completely Doctor-ish. When Graham put his arm around her shoulders at the motel and she scrunched up her nose in disgust... I am head over heels in love with this woman.
"- You ain't Banksy!
- Or am I?"
I can't believe I stan this absolute nerd.
All three companions played a big role, which I'm very happy about. We saw a bit more development from Yaz - a lot of people complained that she didn't bring as much to the table as Graham or Ryan in the previous two episodes. I think she really shone here. I also love that Ryan just vaporized the antagonist without hesitation. Good stuff. And I'm glad they haven't magically forgotten about Grace and she still gets mentioned a bunch. It is a very fresh tragedy, after all.
This was hands down the best episode of the season so far and it's probably gonna be remembered as one of the most iconic stories of the entire show. I hope we can keep this up. It looks like next week the Doctor is finally gonna get her gang home and they're gonna be fighting some good old-fashioned space spiders. Which means a ton of dumb fun. Hey, I'm not complaining. We need episodes like that too. But "Rosa" was excellent on all fronts and I'm definitely gonna have to watch it again.
Is American Horror Story: Cult the television equivalent of Marvel’s Secret Wars event? Fan favorites like Evan Peters are turned into unrepentant fascists, characters like Twisty make unexpected and inexplicable returns, and as nakedly as Cult demonstrates its aspirations toward political commentary it remains unclear what the show is trying to convey. The complexities of the issues Cult is trying to take on may result in a season that is as in poor taste as Secret Wars, especially considering their shared ideological murkiness. Because the show seems to take aim at both Sarah Paulson’s left-leaning Ally (the name, as AHS always is, is painfully on the nose) and Evan Peters’s Kai, one might accuse Ryan Murphy of false equivalence. And yet, Ally is unquestionably heroic and Kai is unrepentantly villainous. This distinction is important. On a day when DACA is under threat, representing an existential horror far beyond what AHS is artistically equipped to depict, the perspective that “everyone is worried over nothing, ‘both sides’ need to calm down” is unwelcome. At least as of the first episode, I’m not immediately alienated by some poorly thought out centrism.
While Cult is a high risk (and, perhaps, low reward) proposition, it gets a lot right. I found this episode inspiring fear and dread in excess of other seasons of AHS. It’s not just the political drama, either. Peters is a menace on the screen, chewing scenery, firing off nonsensical diatribes, and committing heinous acts. The sinister nanny is also a powerful fear-generating machine. The powerlessness of Ally and Ivy to intervene on the life of their child and protect him from this intrusion is profoundly unsettling. But beyond on that, it’s slick camera work and memorable costuming that does the job. The monstrous clowns that terrorize Ally and her son and commit suburban murders are as striking as the returning Twisty.
I’m appreciative that the show verified Ally’s encounters with the clowns as “real” as opposed to long-playing the possibility of hallucination. Horror rarely treats mental illness with the nuance it deserves and Cult is no exception. Ally’s condition played up as an isolation based horror is crass, and her treatment by both the narrative and the other characters is unconscionable. The quicker the show decides to pivot away from this hackneyed plot device, the better.
Overall, I’m intrigued by what is on offer with this season of AHS. I don’t expect any groundbreaking political commentary. For some, that might be enough reason to dismiss the show at best or argue it should have never been made at worst. I’m sympathetic to those arguments. But there’s something about the craft of this first episode that has grabbed me. And I appreciate seeing the naked fascism of Kai on screen, rendered as incoherently and unsympathetically as it deserves. But I shudder to think what other viewers might take away from Murphy’s glib and over-the-top depiction of the entire political spectrum. The fact that Kai might affirm or embolden some white supremacist is a horror of which I don’t need to be reminded.
Contains major spoilers !!!!!
Huge and utterly dissapointing. After TFA I said this movie would make or break the story. For me it broke.
Where to begin? Let´s start with my biggest problem.
After that rebel cruisers bridge was hit and Leia was thrown into space we saw her drifting in the cold empty vacuum of space. This was a powerful scene and I had tears welling up in my eyes thinking that would be a great ending for the character dying how she always lived. Fighting. I did not realise, or care, that it would have been a huge coincidence had they written this scene at that point not knowing Carrie would pass away. But as I said powerful scene. And then she opens her eyes and floated back into the ship still beeing alive. At that point I was seriously considering leaving the cinema. It´s scifi but, please, without as much as a hint of an explanation that is just awful writing. It is Disney all over it. Anyway I stayed and watched the rest but in general I was done with the movie.
There are tons of other things I didn´t like.
way to much unnessesary and stupid humor. Most of the time it does not fit and just destroys scenes. Holding for General Hux - that might have been OK once but two or three times it just becomes goofy. And there is more of this througout the movie.
the writing was all over the place. So much things going on that do little to nothing for the general plot and just add playtime. Like that whole thing with the codebreaker, going to the casino. Just sugarcoating CGI.
and speaking of playtime - way too long. About five times towards the end I thought it was over. It could have ended when the reached the rebel base- no let´s add another battle. When they realised they where trapped. With Luke going out to face Kylo. At some point I would have been OK with the movie ending with the First Order defeating the rebels, everyone dying, and the franchise done with. But of course that is not happening and the movie ends.....no, just show us a kid with a broom looking at the stars and indicate he could be the hero of a future movie.
in many ways the continuation of storylines is not satisfiying. They introduce Snoke in the first movie without an explanation who he is, where he comes from and how he got there. Would have been OK, could have done later. So now he´s dead without so much as a fight and there are questions left to be answered.
what about Rey ? Are we really to believe her parents were some drunk and drifting scavengers that sold her for money like Ren said ? That would be very stupid because how in the universe could she master the Force in ways even the best Jedis or Sith couldn´t without as much as years of training. Another void in the storytelling.
too many, shall I call them, homage scenes ? A lot of times I felt I had already seen this movie. The scene in the throne room f.e. Snoke = Emperor, Rey = Luke, Ben = Vader, the destruction of the rebel fleet playing in the background and the Ben killing Snoke is like Vader killing the Emperor. I know that was said about TFA as well but I feel it´s much worse here. The Battle of Hoth reviseted would be another thing where they re-did some scenes to a T. All that was left was tow cables.
Those are just some examples of the things I disliked and maybe there could be satisfactory explanation later. There is a lot more but it would take too much time to write it down. But I doubt I will go to the cinema for the next one.
To be fair there where some positives in this movie.
I liked the scenes with Rey and Luke althought they did not really lead anywhere. But some nice insights into Lukes story after ROTJ.
The conversations between Kylo and Rey where very interesting and I thought there was really potential to steer the story to something new and exciting. Not happening.
So overall I was not satisfied. I really like TFA, it built some expectations that where all crushed with this. As far as I am concerned I am done with this new story. I am not not very eager to find out what else the canibalise and how they try to write themselves out of this. There is nothing left.
This is my view of the movie. If you liked it I´m happy for you.
May the Force be with us. Always.
"Call her Nichole."
And just like that, my pathetic bitch ass is back on the June/Serena train. No regrets.
I could write a 1,000-word review of this episode and I still don't think I would cover everything. So, I'll try to list some of the things that absolutely blew my mind:
Aunt Lydia getting wrecked by Emily. Of course it's what she deserved, but it was brutal as fuck. Alexis Bledel's acting was everything. That initial rush of adrenaline followed by absolute terror and panic. So good.
How many more times is Serena going to allow Gilead to crush her before she finally rebels? I think she's near her breaking point. Give me the June/Serena team-up I deserve in season 3, you cowards. The way she gave up the child she'd wanted for so long so Nichole could have a better life was beautiful. Yvonne Strahovski, man.
Emily's getting out! Lawrence, you are officially my favorite man on the show (not that there's a lot of options there). I want to see her find her wife and son. I'm going to cry so much when that happens, I already know it.
So Marthas seem to have some kind of a secret operation going on, huh? That's gonna be interesting to explore.
I knew June would stay in Gilead. She needs to get Hannah out too, she can't just leave her behind. The last 10 minutes of the episode made me very emotional. Some good writing and even better acting in there.
What an excellent season finale. I have to say, I was afraid there would be a decline in quality in season 2 seeing as they were going beyond the events of the book, but that was certainly not the case. I liked this season more than the first one. Now, please give Elisabeth Moss, Yvonne Strahovski and Alexis Bledel (The Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit of acting on this show) Emmys and I'll be happy. I absolutely cannot wait for season 3.
Over 30 years since its release, this is still the high watermark of the series and, indeed pretty much any adventure film. Ford is the lynchpin of the series, and unlike James Bond, it is difficult to imagine anyone else taking on this role in the future. What makes Indiana Jones works so well as a character and instantly connect with an audience (apart from being Han Solo in disguise) is his world-weariness and that he does indeed seem to be "making it up as he goes along." He makes mistakes and gets himself into trouble more often than not. The sheer pace, the reliance on practical stunts and Ford's performance here sets this film apart from some of the more ridiculous elements that mar the sequels and Karen Allen is a great foil. Every film of course has a great score from Williams, but the theme created for the Ark of the Covenant elevates the music to another level. But it is Ford that embodies Indiana Jones - the looks of relief, panic and determination that cross his face, sometimes all in one shot, is often priceless and he is the key to making this character work so well.
8.6/10. Oh man, I just love it when Adventure Time gets straight up weird like this. The idea of Treetrunks, who comes off like a sweet old lady, but who is (a.) kind of cattily angry with and opposed to Princess Bubblegum on principle and (b.) this strangely sort of sexual being, having alien babies is so delightfully out there. In particular, the sequence where she goes to the alien cloud land or whatever, and everyone talks slowly, and there's little green elephants with alien faces, is definitely the kind of strange set of scenes that will make you briefly wonder if someone spiked your drink.
Still, beyond the creative art and stylistic choices, it's just a neat little headscratcher of a story with some good comedy thrown in for good measure. Treetrunks running into Starchy (who's still, apparently, a conspiracy nut) and a collection of supposed alien abductees (including the hilarious Booshi) and trying to turn it into a militant group is, again, weird, but hilarious stuff. (And little throw ins like the banana guard trying to save P-Bubs from being abducted and dropping to the ground when he fails, or Starchy's secret passageway taking them right back where they started were great.)
But overall, this episode comes down to a story about Princess Bubblegum and Treetrunks. As strange as the conflict is, AT sets it up well, with Treetrunks wanting to protect her children, and P-Bubs wanting to protect hers too in a way. For Princess Bubblegum, annihilation with this band of idiot candy people seems perilously possible, so colonizing other planets is a way to ensure the candy life force doesn't go out. The fact that they understand each other in those terms, and that Treetrunks helps PB after PB realizes the damage her goo-buds were doing, gives an oddly emotional undercurrent to everything. The exchange about not liking each other, but still being able to respect each other is, amid the abject weirdness, a very mature sentiment.
And again, as weird as it is for Treetrunks to say goodbye to her Alien husband, only to then introduce him to her pig husband, it's also a little sweet. That's what this show is, a ton of on the surface weirdness, with a core of real feeling and surprisingly complex interpersonal relationships. It amazes me still.
Just got back from seeing the new Tomb Raider. Not bad. Solid action albeit nothing too original going on here. Alicia Vikander was a pretty good Lara Croft, and I actually liked the way she developed in this one from the newbie that constantly gets 'owned' to the badass dual-gun tottin' lady at the end. As for the movie itself, there is fun action, some ancient "riddles", and a little bit of the "supernatural" thrown in. It was basically an update on Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (like almost verbatim with the formula minus Nazis), plus some National Treasure bits thrown in. A tried and true plot line, but not groundbreaking.
While I wasn't the biggest fan of the "bad guy" played by Goggins in terms of his intimidation factor, I thought that they did a real good job on making his motivations quite real and believable. He's not out to destroy the world or conquer everything. He just wants to get this thing over with, find/give the weapon to his evil organization, and go back home to his family. Not bad. You could really feel his desperation in everyone of his scenes. As for the other characters, I didn't really like the incorporation of the twist, but it is what it is. Can't really go into it much more without spoiling things.
I'm not too confident with the way that they setup the sequel/s to come. I didn't really get the whole "the evil Trinity organization is everywhere" vibe that they really wanted to emphasize in the end. Plus, the movies to come will have quite a different feel since we now have a relatively "proven" Lara rather than the girl making all these rookie mistakes and learning from them. Kind of like how Casino Royale was for the Bond reboot, with Quantum of Solace being a big let down. Anyway, solid action and adventuring. Nothing too original here, but some decent character development along the way for this reboot. I give it a good 6/10.
Sorry Angelina, you're in the past now.
Alicia Vikander is phenomenal in this movie, and I appreciate the italian version of the movie for not dubbing her "screams" and "moans" because they are fantastic and add to an already adrenaline pumping movie.
The movie is the same as the first reboot game on the "next" gen, personally I did not play it, but I did play the second one and if they are going to make the next movie the same as the game, it's gonna be even greater!
This cinematic reboot is a rollercoaster. Lara's ability to come out of situation is always a bittersweet taste of disbelief that makes you love it even more. But, in this movie they took a nice step back to her and so we get to see a more inexperienced Lara. Because of this, every failed step doesn't look... "fake" as it did (in my opinion) with the original Jolie movies where she was a badass from starters, feared and known by everyone and still went on about and made stupid mistakes which didn't make sense really.
I gotta say that if you let yourself be immersed, the suspense in some of the scenes is thick and palpable. The line between mythos and reality is thin, but it develops perfectly near the end without resulting boring or monotonous.
Regarding every other aspect of cinematography: I have to say, some of the CGI felt a bit cheap, but usually is surmounted by the amount of action the movie delivers, sound editing and engineering was on point, note that there aren't really big, romatic or thought-provoking photografical shots, but it's to be expected in an action movie.
Alicia Vikander is perfect for the role. I absolutely loved her for the entire runtime and she honestly kept my interest up entirely on her own.
I don't know if Square Enix is to be thanked for the level of quality and "textuality" of who Lara Croft is and what Tomb Raider is about, but I think it's a safe bet and I hope it stays this way.
Please if you have the choice, watch the movie in english, it might sound creepy or weird, but Alicia's screams are fuckin fire in this movie, it gives depth and dignity to the struggle of a character that is supposed to be strong.
What is the line between insanity and brilliance? Is it broad or thin? Does the one bleed into the other? The Aviator, Martin Scorcese's epic look at the life and times of Hoard Hughes, suggests that the two are intertwined, at least in this one man. The film follows him from his first crazy moviemaking schemes in the California desert to his great aviation triumph at a time when his psychoses have started to overwhelm his senses.
It's a "Great Man" biopic, so it hits some the expected beats. There's casual "cameos" by celebrities and notable figures of the time, a "nobody believed in me" set of obstacles, and wild but flawed individual at the center of it, figuring out his path from neophyte to bigwig. But Scorsese has the right touch to bring out the best of the form, balancing the big moments in Hughes's life with quieter scenes to explicate his fears and neuroses.
At the center of it all is Leonardo DiCaprio's crackerjack performance as Hughes. I have to admit, I'm not always a big fan of DiCaprio's performances, which I tend to find technically sound but rarely unique or moving. But here, he is a man on fire, playing the noted eccentric with an almost rabid charm and head full of dreams, but also conveying the man's vulnerabilities, and the way his mental deterioration eats at him as he tries to barrel past it. Short of his turn in Wolf of Wall Street, this is the most I've seen DiCaprio truly inhabit a character, and he gives many different shades and layers to the man in both his grand successes and utter failures.
Fortunately, DiCaprio has an equal to play off of in Cate Blanchett's stunning turn as Katharine Hepburn. Going into the film, I'd heard Blanchett's performance derided as a mere impression, but nothing could be further from the truth. While Blanchett certainly does well to capture the distinctive tone and rhythms of Hepburn, she imbues the character with such life, with a zest for the thrills of the world, a fear that she'll be exposed as a "freak," and a supreme insecurity that her days in the spotlight are over.
Hepburn's patter in the film is reminiscent of the real life actress's exchanges on the screen, but Blacnhett gives new dimension to it with her subtle change of expression when Hughes shows her how to fly, when she warns Howard not to let the press eat him up, and most notably, when she tells him that if he looses his mind, she'll be there to "take the wheel." Theirs is the most multi-faceted and engrossing relationship in the film, and that makes it all the more heartbreaking when it dissolves. Hepburn's nervous, affected laugh when Howard accuses her of always being on is stunning, and Howard's anger, and his bonkers response to burn all his clothes, everything that he'd worn while being with her, is another stepping stone toward his insanity.
The film engages in strong symbolism when it comes to signposting Hughes's growing neurosis. The opening scene features his mother bathing him, quarantining him, instilling in him a fear of sickness and germs and the creepy crawlies he can't see. She washes him with a special bar of soap, and in that cleansing bath, he's surrounded by lights.
As the film goes on, it shows the effect this seminal moment had on him. It dramatizes his germophobia well, depicting him as unable to so much as take one bite of his steak after Errol Flynn steals a pea off of his plate, heightening his perspective as he looks at a what appears to him to be a diseased roast at the Hepburn estate, and most strikingly in the film, refusing to hand a disabled man a wash cloth because it would require him to sully his hands.
That what makes it so powerful in the few times when he overcomes his phobia. The film doesn't have to tell you that Hughes and Hepburn have reached an important level of intimacy, it shows you, by depicting Howard offering Katharine a sip from his milk bottle, and then having a drink of it himself. In the same way, his commitment to his company and well-being are palpable in his meeting with Senator Brewster, who serves him a fish that stares back at him, and a water glass with a smudge, meant to unnerve Hughes, but Howard soldiers on.
The Aviator does well to show these neuroses growing. He slowly but surely feels the need to use his own soap more and more, to where he's washing his own shirt in the sink and waiting in the restroom like a prisoner rather than put his hand on a filthy doorknob to let himself out. He finds himself repeating things, a problem that becomes more pronounced as the film wears on, and culminates at the end of the film. Then there's the flashbulbs of all those press cameras, bringing back the flashes of those spherical lights that surrounded him in that quarantine cleanse, reminding him where he came from and what he's afraid of.
Apart from the brilliant performances and symbolism in the film, it's a complete visual treat as well. Scorsese and his collaborators color-correct the film to a tee, giving it a sepia-tinge that communicates the lost time of the film's setting. But they also give it these beautiful splashes of color, turning the film into toothpaste -- a wash of muted reds and seafoam greens. Scorsese's camera cuts across the joyous tumult of a Hollywood party, or follows a flurry of planes swarming in the air as Hughes fills the sky for his Hell's Angels picture, or shoots his great men, be they protagonist or antagonist, from behind, leaving them imposing but featureless.
The Aviator depicts its protagonist as constantly pushing, constantly thinking and dreaming bigger than those around him can imagine, or at least would advise. It also shows him paying a cost for this, suggesting that there is a price for this kind of thinking that is extracted from one's mental well-being. Even Hughes's final triumph in the film -- his rebuke of Brewster at the Senate hearings, his defeat of the slimy Juan Trippe in his scheme to take out his competitor, and the flight of his Hercules, an embodiment of the scope and audacity of his ideas forged in rubber and steel, are tinged with the unavoidable onslaught of his verbal tic. In Scorsese's film, Howard Hughes is very much the way of the future, but that thought, and all the good that this mentality brings, eventually overtakes him, and tells us that even the titans of old can have feet of clay.
And shit has hit the fan for Claire (and her pretend witch friend).
Claire gets first hand the unjust treatment of women who did not abide by the repressive society who saw women of intellect as in league with the devil. Unfortunately for Claire, that also includes being killed for being a witch (which was punishable by death). But with Jamie out of town, Ned the lawyer is the only person in her corner to help her.
What I do love about the ep is seeing the frienship between the two women. Seeing Geillis stop with pretense and reveal herself as just a smart woman who married for convinience and ended up with Dougal over shared politics. She is no witch, just a woman ahead of her time.
Unfortunately for Claire, she has made enemies in an obsessed teenager. Even more surprising is seeing the Father who had failed to save a young poisoned boy use religious furvour against Claire, playing the part to woo the judges against her. The two things that will always be used against women: the jealousy of other women and men's inability to deal with women more powerful/intelligent than them.
In order to save herself, Claire must turn against her only friend, but she will not turn her back. Claire is loyal to a fault and also from another time. And in the biggest turn of events, Geillis takes the blame for witchcraft and also reveals herself to Claire as also being from the future, from 1968. Geillis' witch knowledge was just as Claire's, knowledge from a future time. Did NOT see this coming! Also Jamie coming in to save Claire at the knick of time with sword and dagger ready to throw down.
And finally we get Claire revealing to Jamie she is from the future, when he confronts her of being a witch, of having the same mark as Geillis, the scar from a smallpox vaccine. And Jamie's love for Claire is so great, he believes her and she lets him in to her story, no more pretense, no more made up stories. So great his love for Claire that he lets her go. He takes her to the very rocks on the hill that brought her to him, and he'll let her go back if that's what she wants and to keep her safe from the dangers of his time. Oh Jamie, you are grade A hubby material.
Love the scene of Claire looking at her two wedding rings, one representing Frank (and the future) and the other being Jamie (and this past/present), literally having to choose between which wedding band she will stay loyal to. Frank in gold and Jamie in iron. She chooses strenght and stability over a gliterring maulable maybe. She chooses Jamie. No longer is she stuck in the past, she is now choosing it with wide eyes.
In terms of pacing, this episode feels like it slowed down a bit. Moving in chunks rather than flowing. Overall it's still a great episode with loads of things.
1. It's beautiful to see the relationship between these two. Post-wedding night, we see an intimacy we rarely see in shows, we see them opening up to each other. Jamie asks Claire if what they feel with each other is normal, do other couples have it? It's a bearing my soul moment and it's beautiful. Though Jamie can be considered a traditional masculine man (built like a tree, strong, fighter, works with his hands, one of the boys, etc), he is also soft in unexpected ways (he's always asking for permission from Claire, he's thoughtful, considerate of her, earnest, emotionally open even when he knows it could be embarrasing, etc).
2. We meet a friend of Jamie's and I'm surprised to see that he is mute (his tounge was cut as prisoner) and he has a physical handicap from an injury (walks with a stick/cane). And he is treated with the same friendship and respect Jamie offers to all. There is no pitying him or making a mockery out of his handicap/difficulties. Jamie speaks in a version of sign language and translates to Claire so she may also understand him. This friend is treated by the writers with decency and respect, no played for laughs or pity, and not treated without dignity. It's rare to find a person with a disability in period drama that isn't there for comidic effect or as a sob story.
3. I did found it hard to watch the two instances Claire was/was almost raped. But I do respect the writers for not sexualizing it, but rather focusing on the trauma of the situation and Claire's emotional state. Also the men who committed the offenses where seen as villains (and within their villanious characters).
4. Claire is almost seconds away from going home, something she has been longing to do, but I wonder if she could break the bonds she has created with Jamie if she had been able to go back. Having experiences Randall, would she be able to look at Frank the same way as before. We do get a glimpse in this episode that Frank is capable of the same/similar cruelties his ancestor was known for.
5. My favorite part of the episode was seeing the Mackenzie men showing Claire how to defend herself and fight back. It's endearing to see the caring they have for her, which she recipricates. These sequence creates a light moment within an emotionally heavy ep.
This movie was excellent. Director Spike Jonze has done some amazing work in the past with other writers being in charge of the story like Adaptation and Being John Malkovich, so with him being the sole writer and director of the film I was surprised to see something this great. both the writing and the presentation flow so perfectly together in this movie that I am glad he has the directing skills to pull this off and bring his vision to life. I liked that this movie didn’t endlessly lecture you on the rules of this universe, and while that can work for some futuristic movies, this movie is more focused on the characters. The future like setting is merely a vehicle for the characters story. He made sure his universe’s rules did not conflict with itself. Without a consistent universe, its not a believable universe. Spike was able to add more legitimacy to his universe through his presentation, rather than have characters explain things like the prevalence of technology in their lives or the smog in the atmosphere etc. The movie subtly showed these things so that we could pick it up for ourselves. And because of that, it implies to our brain that there is a universe bigger than the one we are seeing on screen and thus adds to the believability. Making the futuristic and surreal, feel real. The film also pays attention to humans behave psychologically. Even nowadays, we are seeing technology having more of a presence in our romantic lives. This is shown in a quick scene at the beginning. Joaquin phoenix, again, does a phenomenal job of playing his character. The soundtrack from arcade fire was perfect. The made sure not to use cheesy futuristic music and went for a more acoustic feel to mix the familiar with the unfamiliar. I loved EVERYTHING! Even the characters. And when a certain character appears in a scene, in the context, it makes so much sense. This is easily one of the best movies to come out in 2013.
Season 4 was simply amazing. What a finish!
I am a bit sad that the series hasn't picked up for a fifth season. Conversion therapy fallout and Betty's story would provide great frameworks for at least one more great season. But I sadly suspect this season finale is the series finale.
Libby: Caitlin FitzGerald really amazed me in her transformation. And this season is easily her very best, oozing confidence and sexiness. I am really happy that her character ended in a triumphant note.
Johnny Masters: Big claps to Jaeden Lieberher, who gave very surprising and poignant performance on this episode. He really played this under written character with a big heart, channeling a bit of River Phoenix in his teenager years.
Art: Art was totally played by Nancy, but he kept his dignify and my respect. It's sad that Art wasn't invited to stay. If the series is renewed, I strongly suspect he will come back either as an ally or as a foe joining Barton Scully.
Nancy: Every great series needs a villain and Nancy was a character that's all too easy to hate. But her drive is realistic and at least understandable. I am glad her character did not end in stereotypical total defeat. I suspect she'll thrive, although at far reduced capacity than she had hoped.
Lester: I am a bit disappointed that Lester did not get the full respect nor love he deserved. In a way, he dug his own grave, but he's a lovable loser and I was giving him a high five when he hooked up with a hottie caterer.
Betty: Betty has been absent in the last few episodes and her absence was greatly missed. She is by far among the most fascinating characters on this series, third only to Bill and Libby Masters (sorry Virginia). I hope she manages to regain custody with Austin, another great character.
Virginia: Virginia was never among my favorite characters, but she had an amazing run on the first season and her "shrink session" with Art this season was simply amazing. So I am very glad that this season finale returns its focus to Virginia, who simply glows and shines on this episode.
Bill: This series cemented my deep respect for Michael Sheen. Prior to Masters and Sex, I simply viewed him as a token British character actor who was born to play Tony Blair (in The Queen). But here in Masters and Sex, he plays a fascinating character with uncanny realism and attention to detail.
On a final note, writers did an amazing job this season with all the parallelisms, creating rich texture at very high efficiency. And the show looked really amazing, from set decoration, casting, and cinematography.
A backup, a hug, a fight and a kiss
El is the cutest BADASS character ever
This episode was amazing and beautiful, if there's more than 10 stars I would give it more
First let's talk about Steve, he's amazing, he's brave and kind.. Did you see how he was genuinely care about these kids and puts himself in danger just to protect them.. I gotta say he became one of my favorite characters in the show
Also lets talk about the kid who plays Will, gosh!! That kid is sooo talented, I was genuinely feeling his pain, he's so amazing and I'm sure he has a bright future ahead of him
The 3 ways attack bit was also amazing, seeing all the characters attack at the same time from different places was gold writing from the show runners.. I liked how the kids took Steve with them while he was unconscious LMAO, and he was like f*** it lets go burn that sh*t.. I still thing that Nancy doesn't deserve Steve, he's too good for her
Anyway, I didn't like that bit with Dustin and his pet, it felt stupid, I mean they're monsters after all so I don't see how that monster can form such feelings for human, anyway he died at the end we saw him next to the chocolate bar
About El, her scene closing that gate was simply EPIC, I loved how she towards the end used both her hands to push the monster back, and by doing that she actually became more powerful, so now we know El with 2 raised hands are unstoppable
Last thing is the Snow Ball party, it was sad and hilarious seeing Dustin get rejected one by one LMAO, but then Nancy saved his a**, then we saw Mike sitting alone and I had a feeling that El gonna show up, and she did!! She was beautiful and cute.. I'm glad that she's finally with Mike and she feels happy
It was a great season but now we have to wait a long time from season 3 :(((
First things first: MILLIE BOBBY BROWN IS A FRIGGIN' REVELATION AND SHE DESERVES AN EMMY!
The finale Episode showed once more how good the set-design was. You could see that the Upside Down was full of real props. Also the Byer's house had a real development. I told the story of the whole show in the background. It was like a focal point of the whole plot. Furthermore it showed the strength of the series storytelling: Chief Hoppers backstory was hinted in some previous episodes and one could already think, that his daughter is dead. So the flashback didn't feel forced but natural.
On the other hand the finale showed how bad the CGI was. It begun with the CGI flies in Episode 1 and continued through the whole show. It's sad, that they didn't try to make more with physical props. Like the portal. Did it have to repair it self and therefore needed CGI. I don't think so. It would be fine, even better without.
The last scenes in the Byer's house gave me last one kick in the gut. There are so many unanswered questions: What are those slugs. We saw them in Barb's corpse earlier. Why put Chief Hopper food in that box. It is obviously for Eleven. Where is she? Who and where are One to Ten?
Some thoughts on season 2: Now that the expectations are so high i fear that season 2 will feel worse, even it isn't. This show hit me from nowhere, this advantage will season 2 don't have. Maybe a time jump? (But i want to see the actors again). I really hope the Duffer Brothers will take their time and won't become the Wachowskis (Matrix --> Matrix 2+3).
Conclusion: Stranger Things showed us that you can build on existing themes and tropes and at the same time do something completely new. I think Netflix will learn something from this: Don't just continue an existing IP (Full House, Gilmore Girls). Nostalgia is prevalent in today's pop culture, but that doesn't mean viewers want to see old things with a fresh color. In building on a whole decade of cinema and Zeitgeist, the Duffer could develop new ideas. It's like: We like the 80s but we don't want to retell them. There are still new stories in this period that cinema and TV just hadn't time, money or motivation to tell. For that i am eternality grateful.
Good Night, readers, good night.
God, I love this show! What an episode: entertaining, funny as hell, bonding and sweet. And finally we got to see Luci doing something supernatural like getting shot and surviving. I've really missed this in last episodes.
"I thought since I'll never likely penetrate you, I'd commemorate the one time you penetrated me", lmao. That was absolutely brilliant.
I loved the flashbacks with Candy and how they just befriended so quickly. I loved the "Candy Morningstar" episode but knowing what happened in Las Vegas before just made me realized how meaningful that episode was.
The ending scene with everyone passed out in the penthouse was great. Btw, Dan's random and casual appearance with a drill was so good. He's a sweetheart. The bonding between Chloe and Luci is lovely. I loved the scene about lying when Chloe was in bed. It was great to see Lucifer being so honest. That hug at the end.
Chloe imitating Lucifer's accent was so good, lmao. "I'm Lucifer Morningstar. I can play the piano and I'm a fancy British man", lol.
We got Lucifer singing again! Nothing will ever top his version of Sinnerman but I loved it. Tom Ellis' voice is just glory.
Hamlet! And love, Will? Lol. I really really loved it. And that Hitler comment, that was great.
Ella's t-shirt! I want it! I loved to see her working with Lucifer on a case. Although her backstory in Vegas was kind of obvious to me, I did enjoy it. And what's up with the voices she hears? Does she have schizophrenia or something? It's definitely a red herring but what if those voices are addressing to a previous life? Or what if she's an angel and she doesn't realize? Let's see.
Anyways, enjoyable episode even though it wasn't connected to this season's plot.
Set aside the last few minutes of the finale for a moment. That last little reveal changes the shape of the episode, and the series, in significant and meaningful ways that make it easy to let it overshadow the rest of the episode. But stop and think about everything that happens here before the scene where he finally meets The Mother.
Because it is, at best, a mixed bag, long before we see the blue french horn again.
I understand the urge to give the audience some idea of what happens to the gang between 2014 and 2030. The problem is that covering a decade and a half in one big episode makes every story feel rushed and underdeveloped. One of the great things about HIMYM is how it used the past and the future to inform the present. Jumping back and forth between a prior conversation and a current one could be the crux of a joke, as could Future Ted's knowing commentary on some boneheaded mistake or unexpected development that was coming down the pipe. But those time jumps weren't just fodder for comedy, as the show did a great job of creating dramatic irony and emotional stakes by showing what lie ahead or the path that led us here. But by compressing fifteen years worth of life developments into an hour, nothing has time to really breathe or feel like it has the temporal scope the show is shooting for.
After all, there's a great story to be told about the gang drifting apart over the years. Another one of the series's best features is the way it combines the exaggerated goofiness of its comedic sensibilities with real, relatable aspects of being in your twenties and thirties. Well, one of the things that hits you once you start to move past that stage of your life is the way that friends, even good friends, can slowly drift apart, not through neglect or anger or hurt feelings, but just because you're suddenly at different places in your life. That's an idea worth exploring.
The problem is that the rush of years in "Last Forever" makes this process feel like something sudden instead of gradual. Sure, we see the chyron at the bottom of the screen showing that we've jumped ahead a year or two, and there's a boatload of semi-clunky expositional dialogue in the episode to let the viewer know where everyone is in their lives and what they're up to, but when all those developments take place over the course of just a few minutes and just a few scenes, it can't help but seem very fast.
One of the best choices HIMYM's creators made in the final season was to parcel out little scenes of the gang's future throughout, giving us a glimpse of what the future held without trying to pack it all into one big episode like this. Sprinkling those flashforwards in did a nice job at making the group's future feel as well-populated as its present and its past. Obviously there were limitations on how much they could do this in prior episodes given the reveals in store for Barney and Robin and Ted, but the method the show chose to relay the gang's future almost inevitably leaves it feeling too quick, too underdeveloped, and too unsatisfying, even apart from the directions the individual stories go.
Those plot developments, however, are another albatross around the finale's neck. The first and most obvious problem comes from Barney and Robin's divorce. Again, there's a legitimate story to be told of two people who care deeply for one another, but don't work as a couple, but it's a difficult story to tell in five minutes, especially when you've spent huge chunks the past season and a half trying to convince the audience that they make sense together. As someone who's been a Barney and Robin skeptic from the beginning, it's entirely plausible to me that the two of them could mean well and have real feelings for one another, but still end up divorced due to some basic incompatibilities. But the reason for their split feels thin here.
There's nothing we know about Barney that suggests globetrotting would be something he's so against. And while there's hints of bigger issues between the two of them, like not getting to see one another or not being on the same page about their respective plans and projects, we never really get to see these problems develop. We're just told about them, and expected to accept that as enough to break them up one episode removed their wedding. Is that result plausible enough based on what we know about Barney and Robin? Sure, but it's just presented to us, rather than developed before our eyes, and since we don't see their path from pledging to spend the rest of their lives together to getting divorced, that end point feels like it happens by fiat rather than something the show earned.
Barney's reversion afterward is just as unsatisfying. Again, there's a believable story about Barney having worked so hard to become a better person, in part to woo Robin, and reverting to his old tricks as a retreat and defense mechanism when his marriage falls apart. But because of the rapidity with which the finale goes from Point A to Point B, it doesn't feel like the natural result of a difficult event; it feels like throwing nine years of character development down the drain in less than a minute. There's a disparity between how much time the show spent building Barney up as more than just an cartoonish hound dog and how much time it spends showing him reverting to his old persona. That cannot help but feel jarring.
What kills me is that I love where they take Barney in "Last Forever." There's something beautiful about the idea that what really changes him isn't some conquest or accomplishment or even a great romance; it's becoming a father. For Barney, "The One" isn't a woman he'll meet some day; it's his daughter, and Neil Patrick Harris delivers a tremendous performance in the scene where he repeats his Ted-like plea, this time to his baby girl. It's a wonderful scene, but the path the episode takes to get there still comes off as a shortcut that has to ignore seasons of character development in order to make it work.
The finale isn't all bad though. While the story of the gang drifting apart is too quick, the scene where they all reunite for Ted's wedding is legitimately touching and full of the good will and warm feelings that the show's been able to generate during its run. Ted and Tracy (I can use her name now!) continue to be adorable together, and the twist that romantic Ted made it five years and two kids into his relationship before he actually married The Mother is a small but effective way to show how much the substance of finding The One was more important to him than the formality of it (even if he was planning on a European castle). It's one of those lived-in details that speaks to his character.
Beyond that, the actual meeting of The Mother is very well done, and it really had to be. Sure, there's a few meetcute cliches involved, but the easy rapport between Ted and Tracy soars once again and nearly saves the entire finale. After all, this was the moment the "Last Forever" had to nail, and it did. Ted and Tracy's conversation weaves in enough of the yellow umbrella mythos for everything to click, and Joshua Radnor and Cristin Miloti both sell the subtle realization that this is something special. For an episode that had to make good on the promise of its title, that meeting went about as well as any fan of the show might have hoped for.
And if the series had ended there, everyone might have gone home happy. Sure, the other problems with the rushed and shortcut-filled finale might have rankled a bit (particularly the way it undoes the wedding we'd just witnessed), but making that moment feel as big and as meaningful as it needed to after all that build up is no small feat, and that alone would have bought Bays & Thomas a hell of a lot of slack.
Frankly, the series could have still gotten away with Tracy dying shortly thereafter, another controversial choice in the finale. There's something tragic but beautiful about the audience watching Ted seek out the woman of his dreams for nine years and then realizing that he only gets to be with her for the same amount of time, while still cherishing and being thankful for the time the two of them had, for that connection and love that was wonderful and worth it no matter how all too brief it may have been. There's a touching theme about the fragility of things in that story, but also about the joy that comes from finding the person you love, that stays with you even after they're gone. It's sad, but it's sweet, in the best HIMYM way.
And then there's Robin.
The decision to pair up Ted and Robin in the last moments of the finale is as tone-deaf and tin-eared an ending as you're likely to find in a major television program, and the reasons abound. The most obvious is that the show devoted so much time to the idea of Ted getting over Robin, and had any number of episodes (the most recent being the execrable "Sunrise") where Ted seemed to have achieved that, to have moved on in his life. Folks like me may try to handwave it, and the show can call back to the premiere of Season 7 where Ted and Robin can declare that all you need for love is chemistry and timing, but at base, Ted and Robin getting together feels like it contradicts so much about the two characters' relationship with one another over the years. So much of the final third of the show involved going over the same beats between Ted and Robin over and over again, of having each move past the other, and coming back to them in the final, despite how iconic that blue french horn has become for the show, just feels like another poorly-established cheat or retcon that isn't in sync with where the show went since that finale was crafted in Season 2.
What's worse is that that ending transforms the story Ted's been telling from a heartwarming if irreverent yarn about the path that led to him meeting the love of his life, to a smokescreen to gain his kids' approval for dating an old flame after their mother's death. Look, to some degree you have to accept the conceit of the show for what it is and not take it too seriously. In real life, no two kids would sit through such a long story, and no father should tell his children about all the women he slept with before he met their mom. But taken in broad strokes, How I Met Your Mother is a story about how all the events in Ted's life, big and small, good and bad, planned or unexpected, went into making him the person who was ready to find Tracy and capable of being with her.
Future Ted himself put it best in "Right Place, Right Time." He tells his kids "There's a lot of little reasons why the big things in our lives happen." He explains that what seemed like chaos was bringing him inexorably toward the best person and the best thing to ever happen to him, that there were "all these little parts of the machine constantly working, making sure that you end up exactly where you're supposed to be, exactly when you're supposed to be there." And he tells them at the time, he didn't know "where all those little things were leading [him] and how grateful [he]'d be to get there."
That, to my mind, is the theme to take from this great, if tainted show. Sure, it's unrealistic that anyone would go on that many tangents in telling the story of their great romance, but the point is that each of these moments, each of these people, were crucial in who he was and who he became when he met Tracy, and that they were as important as that fateful meeting was. Yes, it's a long story, and it has many many detours, but it's the story of all the twists and turns and bumps in the road that brought Ted into the arms of his soulmate, and that smooths over the rougher edges of the show's premise.
Instead, the twist that it's all supposed to be about Ted having the hots for Robin turns that lovely story into a long-winded attempts by a middle-aged man to convince his kids that he should date their aunt That seems much more crass. There's still meaning to be wrung from it, meaning that finds parallels with Tracy and her dead boyfriend Max and the idea that you can have more than one meaningful relationship in your life. But it doesn't add up with what the show had really done to that point. The past nine seasons were no more about Robin than they were about Barney or Marshall or Lily. They no more feel like a way to suggest that Aunt Robin's good dating material than they do that Ted should spend more time with Uncle Barney. As great as that blue french horn was the first time, it had meaning because it represented something we knew was going to end, but which still had beauty and value despite that. This last time we see it, it's represents the opposite, that something beautiful has ended, and the value it had is cast aside in favor of a relationship the series spent years disclaiming. That is deeply, deeply unsatisfying.
Take away those final few scenes, concocted in a different era of the series, and you have a flawed but still potent finale, that delivers on the show's biggest promise and gives the gang one last "big moment" together. But add them back in, and you have an ending to the series that not only runs counter to so much of what the show developed over the course of its run, its final season in particular, but which, moreover, cheapens the story the audience had been invested in for the past nine years. It's almost impressive how a couple of truly terrible moments can do such retroactive damage to such a longrunning show , but here we are, with a sour taste in our mouth from such an ill-conceived finish.
Future Ted was right, a little moment can have a big impacts, and the one at the end of the series is a doozy in that regard. But maybe, just maybe, when we tell our own stories about How I Met Your Mother, we can do what Ted should have done many times -- just leave that part out. There's something wonderful to be gleaned from the ending to this fun, optimistic, heartfelt, and occasionally very rocky series, but it requires us to do what we always do when looking back on things: focus on the good stuff, make our peace with the bad stuff, and remember it at its best.
9.7/10. I am still amazed at what they managed to pull off with The Mother in Season 9. There was necessarily so much build to who this woman had to be, all the things she had to represent and all the ways that she had to fit naturally into this world and the lives of our protagonists. And she does! This is a woman who totally makes sense for the gang, and totally makes sense for this show, and totally makes sense for Ted.
But there's more to her than that. She's not just a pot of gold waiting for Ted at the end of the rainbow. She is a woman with her own journey from the past to the present, with her own stumbles and trials and tribulations, that makes Ted just as much a light at the end of the tunnel for her as she is for him.
I'll admit, I found it a little too neat, and a little too "small universe" how many connections there were between her and the various important people and places from the show's history. But at the same time, I appreciated how the show filled in the gaps with things we already knew about, like her night at the club, or Ted's accidental class, or the return of the yellow umbrella to her apartment.
More than that though, I really appreciated the story, that would have absolutely worked as its own show, of a young woman who lost a significant other very young and very tragically, and believed that she'd basically won the lottery on her first ticket, and wasn't likely to win again. Telling that story in 22 minutes is hard, but the episode did a nice job at showing a woman who was weird and nerdy in a way that makes her fit to be a Mosby, but also different and someone with her own important journey to "a little ways down the road." The story of her moving on past her heartbreak with Max was quite poignant, and Christina Miloti delivered that monologue to her dead beau like a champ.
And my word, if you can avoid being move by her rendition of "La Vie En Rose," then you're a stronger man than I. It's such a lovely little moment, conveying both the melancholy and sweetness of her love. Her philosophy on the universe giving you one person works as an interesting counterpoint or echo of Ted's own philosophy about waiting for The One. While Ted is still trying to find his soulmate and worries he never will, The Mother thinks she'd already found hers and will never get another chance at something like that again. It's a nice way to show that the two have the same perspective, and yet have different flavors of it. All-in-all, it's a wonderful format-bending, mythology heavy episode, that still takes time to make us care about The Mother apart from our heroes, which makes the inevitable meeting that this show has been building too all the more meaningful.
**SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE SERIES. DO NOT READ BELOW THIS POINT IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE ENTIRE SHOW**
In hindsight, it's interesting how Tracy moving past Max and being mistaken in her belief that the universe only gives you one person to truly love foreshadows Ted eventually moving on from Tracy and going after Robin in the finale. I still don't care for that decision, and I think it undoes too much of what this season accomplished, but in retrospect, I appreciate that Thomas and Bays set up that choice thematically here. It's good writing, even if I don't like where they went with it.
9.2/10. There's a line in Season 8 that feels like the show's mission statement. Ted's describing a german television show as big comedy, but points out that you still really care about the characters. And I feel like that's HIMYM at its best, balancing goofy, out there humor and structural experimentation with grounded, human moments, and that's basically what each of the stories here were.
The story of Marshall trying to keep he and Lily's "pause" going as long as possible, including trying to "bang his wife to sleep" is a pretty zany sitcom plot. But the premise has juice in it, and it has a lot of great comedic performances from both Jason Segel (especially when talking to himself) and Alyson Hannigan. But then they unpause, and you get this raw, kind of ugly fight between the two of them, where Marshall brings up Lily leaving for San Francisco and (most shockingly to me) calls her dream of being an artist "a hobby." Lily is visibly hurt by all of this, and talks about Marshall's broken promises and the extremely legitimate point that he lost the right to have them calmly discuss this when he agreed to become a judge without talking to her about it. It's a legitimate conflict of conflicting dreams, and that makes Lily's storm out feel meaningful and not just a stunt. The pause/unpause dynamic represents the show's ability to go back and forth between those painfully real moments and the broad comedy perfectly.
The same is true in the Barney/Ted/Robin storyline. The idea of reaching a level of drunkenness that you basically become a passive truthteller is pure sitcom hokum, and yet the show has so much fun with it. From callbacks to his claims to sleeping with secretaries of state to the recurring bit about Barney and Ted's mom to the whole ring bear(er) fake out, the show uses a pretty exaggerated narrative device to good comedic measure. Turning the reveal of what Barney's job is into a tale of him getting revenge on the guy who stole his girlfriend and prompted him to become "awesome" is a little too tidy for my tastes, but Barney's job has always been a pretty outsized part of the show, so I'm okay with it having an outsized, pretty convenient resolution.
But then the show stops using that device for comedy and starts using it for character. Robin and Barney have always been a hard sell for me as a viewer, but when Ted asks Barney how he's doing with the whole wedding, and Barney says that he's nervous but good, that he always felt a little broken but that he doesn't feel that way with Robin, and that he loves her and will do everything he can to show it, you'd have to have a heart of ice not to be at least a little moved by that. Maybe it's just that I have the same feelings about Mrs. Bloom, but however convenient and unlikely the truth serum device is, hearing these as Barney's true honest feelings about the woman he's marrying helps make their relationship at least feel like something you want to root for, even if the show hasn't exactly earned or proven that the two of them can work.
But more importantly, it's a great example of how this show can take something it uses to wring humor out of a pretty wacky set up and then turn it around to make you care about the characters and their hopes and dreams and damage a little bit more. It's the reason that this show was something more than just a gimmick, or a flash and the pan, or a series that gave into its worst impulses of lazy humor and convoluted plotting. It's a show that knows how to go big and zany, and how to go small and personal, and that ability lets the show move me even as it nears the end of its run here.
7.2/10. A perfectly fun Kill Bill homage (which is itself a pastiche -- we're through the looking glass here people). I remember some controversy about the gang dressing up in Asian garb for the "training" scenes, but I think it's in the spirit of kung fu movies the show is imitating here. Like I said the last time we did one of these, I'm pretty tired of the slap bet business, and frankly I think it should have been a one hit wonder, or at least something brought out to punctuate an episode like it was with Barney's one-man show than building entire episode around it.
Still, it was a fun entree into seeing Marshall go all Enter the Dragon. There was a lot of physical humor here, between the rapid-fire slaps and the slapping tree and the slow motion (poorly green screened) slaps. There was also a lot of the usual slap-related word play. It was fairly enjoyable, even if it's more of the broad humor and empty calories the show seems to have given into at this point. It was nice to have the angle that Barney had become inoculated against the fear of the slap, and then the kung fu story restored his anxiety, only for them to treat it very matter of factly afterward.
The Boys II Men appearance was pretty superfluous, but there's a bit of a pointless guest star-palooza going on this season anyway. This all makes me sound pretty down on an episode that I mostly enjoyed. It was basically cotton candy -- perfectly nice but pretty empty after the fact.
7.8/10. Two quality episodes in a row despite a few clunkers preceding them! I can't say I loved the presence of Darren (man, HIMYM was really into broadway standouts at this point in its run), but I did enjoy the idea of a firestarter who brought to the fore issues between Robin & Lily and Ted & Barney respectively. Delving into the issue of how Marshall's dream vs. Lily's dream would affect the group (with Robin admitting that she selfishly wants Marshall to win because it would keep Lily there) is a nice beat for those involved, and Ted establishing that "The Dream" is going to jail for a bro, and then risking that very thing on Barney's behalf works really well in addition.
Plus, Cristin Miloti continues to absolutely own the role as The Mother. It's nice to get a brief reprise of "Marshall vs. The Machines," but Miloti pairs with Segel quite well and shows how The Mother fits with the gang before she and Ted ever actually cross paths. The way Marshall advises her to stand up for herself against Darren when it comes to keeping her band is a nice touch (not to mention her driving gloves). Plus, her fretting over karma, only for Ted to punch Darren (thereby letting The Mother become lead singer of her band again) and leading her to buy "whoever the best man is" a drink of expensive scotch is a wonderful way to have Ted and his future love's paths cross without them actually meeting.
Overall, it's a nice little upswing for the show this season after a few prior stumbles.
8.3/10. First things first, I am still amazed at how well they introduce The Mother. There was such potential for disaster in writing a character who needs to be perfect for Ted but also feel like a real and distinct person. Grand kudos are owed to the writers' room and Miloti for what they pulled off. Pairing her up with Lily was an ingenious move, both to show how The Mother would fit in with the group with how quickly the two of them bond (albeit a little conveniently) and to show how she and Ted are well-matched via Lily's complaints about him (the "Mrs. Tedwina Slowsby" gag had me in stitches). Miloti and Hannigan have a great rapport and it pays dividends for The Mother's first outing as an actual character.
Barney and Robin thinking they might be related was mostly fluff, but it was entertaining fluff! I like the continuity of Barney rooting for the bad guy (his comment about King Joffrey of GoT having parents who were related and nevertheless growing up to become a "fair and just ruler" was a big laugh) and the reveal that their shared cousin Mitch was adopted after his biological parents were eaten by wolves, and the couple's ensuing relief, was a nice dark gag resolution to the whole ordeal.
In a storyline that was pure fluff, Marshall also attempts to tell his mom how to delete a facebook photo over the phone, so as not to reveal to Lily that he accepted a position as a judge. Most of the humor was pretty mild, with "old people don't know how to use technology" and "baby miraculously solves problems" leading to cute but pretty unadventurous jokes. That said, there were some mild stakes to the storyline which kept things humming, and Lily not wanting to look at the picture despite the alert because of Judy's "emotional blackmail" was a nice touch.
I'm less enamored with Ted as the real "wild card" at the wedding. I forgot how late in the game HIMYM introduces the whole locket thing, and I've already said my piece on the love triangle angle of the whole thing. Still, I like the meta-sweetness of Ted giving Robin a picture of the gang when they first started hanging out (hey! that's the picture from the show's title screen!) which works in-universe as a fakeout for the locket and out-of-universe as a nod to this being the show's final season.
Overall, a nice way to kick of the last year of episodes of the show and set a number of the season's major storylines in motion.
8.2/10. So this has most of the things I hated from "The Final Page": implausibility issues, people lying to those they claim to love, and characters intentionally making each other miserable. So why do I like this so much better?
There's a few reasons. The firs and easiest is that his is supposed to be for laughs, rather than the flashpoint for people deciding to get married. Setting up this elaborate scheme to give Barney the best night of his life by giving him the worst night of his life in order to prank him is a surprisingly fun premise. This isn't an attempt to trick Barney into marrying anyone or the thing that convinces him someone is right for him; it's just a wild and wacky lark, which makes it easier to swallow.
(It's also just one night of terror for him, not days and episodes of it.)
Also, it flows the right direction. I like that Robin is the architect of this because it's one of the few things in the past few seasons that have shown that she actually "gets" Barney. It makes way more sense that Barney would be impressed and enthused at an elaborate scheme to fool him than that Robin would be convinced to marry him by his pulling a similar trick.
And last, but certainly not least, it's damn funny in the process. Bringing back Quinn was a nice choice, and the idea of her putting on a show for everyone but Barney was amusing. (I have to admit, I'm still a little Team Quinnson). Pairing up Robin with Barney's Mom and showing them talking about sex was broad but enjoyable awkward humor. Ted and Marshall arguing over who should be the hostage and other details of the plan was cute. And bringing in Ralph Maccio, who, to Barney's chagrin, is a lot like him despite his hatred, and then revealing that the clown was the "true" Karate Kid the whole time was a neat little reveal.
Overall, this was a fun lark that, in contrast to "The Robin," new how to play its scheming for fun rather than for drama.
7.7/10. I'll admit, the Jeanette thing didn't really do it for me. There were some amusing bits to it (Ted and Marshall reprising their Departed impression when learning that she's a cop, the Boba Fett getup, and Marshall and Barney's denial of her being there), and I appreciated the resolution that "crazy" is a two way street, but it just didn't capture me for whatever reason.
That said, I really liked the B-story with Robin and Lily. Again, I'm a total sucker for the story in the past (or in this case present) recontextualized in the future, a well which this show goes to with some frequency, and the continual time jumps forward, which continue to add to Robin's story of not wanting to hold Marvin, all the way up to the reveal that the stranger who helped her out wasn't some kindly old lady, but rather, Mike Tyson, was a perfect instance of gradually building ridiculous that kept paying off. Plus, I like the emotional throughline of Robin coming to terms with holding a baby as in character with her reticence about children in general.
Not a perfect episode by any means, but some fun non-linear storytelling and a lot of fun clever humor to boot. We're on a nice little run in the eighth season here.
So there it is, the worst thing HIMYM had ever done, or would ever do. "The Robin" was once my breaking point on this show, the point where I stopped harboring any illusions that it might one day return to being the show and I had known and loved and accepted that, instead, it had metamorphasized into a pale imitation of its former self. HIMYM had previously had bad episode, bad characters, and bad storylines, but none of them was so fundamental to the mythos of the series, so bafflingly wrong-headed, and so essential to the show's past and its future, as "The Final Page."
But before we explore the horror, let's take just a minute to chat about the things that are okay, even good about the episode. The comedy subplot about Marshall and Lily having their first day off since Marvin was born gets pretty broad, between their minute-by-minute list of activities, to their cartoonish lullaby, to their immediate separation anxiety, but it's pretty standard HIMYM Season 8 comedy, with a few cute moments, and that's enough to give it a pass.
What's more, Ted's speech to Robin about the virtues of making an ass of yourself is a lovely little scene, that manages to delve into Ted's fairly unrealistic view of what loves means, and yet draws it back to something sweet -- that even his wildest misfires have helped him to find a great friend. I've never really bought into the show's thesis, first presented in Season 7, that what was holding Ted back from finding The One was that he needed to get over Robin. But accepting that premise, his words are heartfelt and the gesture of taking Robin to the WWN building is meaningful.
With that out of the way, let's talk about the event that manages to wreck one of the show's foundational relationships, botch its romantic-arc storytelling over at least the last season and a half, practically ruin two of the show's main characters, and infect nearly everything that came after it: The Robin.
The result is simple -- essentially everything from Barney's profession of love to Robin in "Splitsville" has been part of a play, a scheme on Barney's part prime Robin for his proposal. The drunken kiss, the dating Patrice, the whole kit and kaboodle, were one grand effort at manipulating Robin into loving him.
Let's address the first problem with this whole plan -- it's tremendously implausible. The problem with a lot of works, be they dramatic or comedic, aping the Tyler Durden-esque twist that reshapes everything you've seen previously, is that too often they require all too much convenience in order for these sorts of byzantine plots to work. Too much of "The Robin" requires people to react in just the right way, at just the right time, on just the right schedule, or the whole thing falls apart.
Now HIMYM has always been a show that runs more on emotional logic than on real logic. To some degree, you accept the level of willing suspension of disbelief necessary to enjoy this show, or you pretty much have to give up on the whole thing from the beginning (or chalk it up to Future Ted as an unreliable narrator). I'm generally okay with that idea, and the other contrivances that are necessary for the grand gestures that are the stock and trade of HIMYM to work. But this one stretches the reality of the show too far. Maybe it's just that there's too many moving parts; maybe it's that the plan stacks implausibility on top of implausibility until the whole bit is too unwieldy to pass even the most generous of B.S. detectors, or maybe it's that I don't like what this routine is in service of and that colors my willingness to accept it or not. Whatever the reason, "The Robin" feels like a bridge too far in terms of the coincidences necessary for Barney's ploy to work, and while that's far from this episode's greatest problem, it does sincerely damage the effectiveness of the twist.
So let's get into the greatest problem, which is really two fold: that Barney would do something like this and that Robin would accept it.
The first part is arguably, devastatingly in-character for Barney. There have been several episodes to rehabilitate Barney as not just some sort of Lothario on the prowl, but as an actual human being with real feelings and a desire to love and to be loved. The results have been mixed, and all too often the show falls back into the idea that Barney is basically a sex-minded wizard, conjuring spells on unsuspecting dames at the bar with little moral compunction.
So then it's not crazy that Barney would offer this bizarro version of something Ted might do. Barney too goes in for the big gesture, for making an ass of himself, but he does it in the most deranged, cruel manner imaginable, that plays into the worst qualities of the character. Manipulating someone that you claim to love, knowingly putting them through the pain and humiliation and instability that Robin has been suffering from over the past few episodes, doesn't amount to a grand profession of love; it amounts to the revelation that Barney doesn't really understand what love is.
Because what's striking about "The Robin," and what is supposed to ease the audience into accepting all of these horrible things, is that Barney has no malice in any of this. Barney isn't trying to hurt Robin; he's not trying to trick her into loving him; he's not trying to be an amoral monster about something as sacrosanct as two people pledging the rest of their lives to one another. He just doesn't understand. "The Robin" unintentionally reveals that the Barney's arc from, at a minimum, the end of Season 2, where he slowly develops from a sexual predator into a mature human being, is a failure. It leads to a person who believes he loves another person, and maybe, in his own way, he does, but through his twisted methods, shows he has no concept of what love really is.
Love is not torturing someone so as to catch them off guard with your proposal. (I'm also looking at you, Friends.) Love is not intentionally driving someone "nuts." Love is not toying with people's emotions. Love is not spying on your friends. Love is not pretending to date the object of your heart's desire's worst enemy just to get to them. Love is not an elaborate game where if you lie and cheat and steal enough along the way, you get a human trophy at the end.
These are not the acts of someone who truly cares for another human being. These are the acts of a sociopath. This is the best Barney can do. This is him playacting as a romantic. This is him trying to replicate the rhythms of the Mosbies of the world while having no facility, maybe even no idea, about what truly loving another person means.
And this is the point where Barney crosses the moral event horizon. It is telling that the show's creators patterned Barney's "long con" after a similarly elaborate plot from Breaking Bad's Walter White (occasional HIMYM guest star Bryan Cranston). That moment in Breaking Bad is arguably the point where Walter White goes from being a man with good intentions and bad impulses to being the monster he would become. "The Robin" presents a turning point for Barney as well. This is where he goes from being a character who does some pretty terrible things that you can write off as an exaggerated, nigh-satirical take on "pickup artist," buoyed by the character's accumulated vulnerabilities and affections, to becoming someone who would enact this horrifying, violating scheme and view it as a sincere expression of love.
Maybe it is. Maybe this is the closest Barney can come to expressing the emotions that he believes amount to love. But if so, that's terrible, and speaks volumes about the fissures in the foundation of a relationship HIMYM doesn't just wants us to be on board with, but which has been, and will be, at the core of the series' final three seasons.
But perhaps even more insulting is the idea that Robin accepts it. Robin herself has deteriorated a bit as a character since the beginning, becoming more and more exaggerated herself as the late season dearth of places to take the show's characters became more pronounced. And yet there is little in her history that suggests the cynical, pragmatic, independent woman we have seen over seven-plus years, would not only excuse Barney's deplorable behavior, but accept it as a sign that the two of them should be together.
Robin herself offers the most convincing and powerful rebuke of Barney's inherently messed-up gesture. "Seriously, Barney?" she asks. "Even you, even someone as certifiably insane as you must realize that this is too far. You lied to me, manipulated me for weeks. Do you really think I could ever kiss you after that? Do you really think I could ever trust you after that? This this is proof of why we don't work, why we'll never work. So thank you. You've set me free because how could I be with a man who thinks that this trick, this enormous lie could ever make me want to date him again?"
That should really have been it. Robin should have walked away, resolved never to talk to or let Barney into her life ever again, and recognize him as someone who could not trusted to be honest, to be open, to be a mature human being in an adult relationship. Instead, she realizes that this is all, in fact, leading to a proposal, and convinces her to have a complete change of heart about the whole thing.
And it makes absolutely no sense.
How that sense of betrayal becomes instant acceptance of the offer to marry this cretin is beyond me. The most charitable interpretation is that Robin appreciates this as Barney being all-in as only he can be. But that doesn't erase the horrible things he did to her to get there, or offer any indication that he couldn't or wouldn't twist noble ends into terrible acts once more. The less charitable interpretation is that Robin has been left so off-balance and messed up by Barney's machinations that she's in a bad enough place mentally to be willing to accept this sort of thing. The even less charitable interpretation is that no reasonable human being would ever look at what Barney did as a genuine sign of love, or at least as a sign that someone can be trusted to be a committed, loving partner in life, and the show just fiats Robin's emotional acceptance to get us to an end point it not only hasn't earned, but which is the antithetical result to all that we've seen thus far.
Or maybe there's another explanation.
The version of Robin Scherbatsky we've seen over the last handful of episodes has not been good or decent or likable. She is pointlessly horrible to Patrice. She selfishly tries to sabotage what she thinks is Barney's relationship with Patrice. And she only returns to wanting Barney after his declaration that she cannot have him. This too, is not the foundation of a real, committed relationship, or the kind of person with the maturity to be in one. Robin has always been much more of an adult than Barney, and even within the heightened reality of the show, felt like more of a real person. But the version of her we've seen in the lead up to "The Final Page," presents a discomforting possibility.
Maybe these two people deserve each other. Maybe they both have such a fucked up view of what it is to want and care for and love someone that they are made to visit these types of violations of trust and of conscience upon one another again and again, in a spate of co-dependence rather than legitimate connection. Though Barney's missteps are much greater in magnitude here, both he and Robin act terribly in the lead to this mid-season finale. They mislead, don't consider the genuine happiness or well-being of the other (not to mention innocent bystanders), and above all act with wanton disregard for anyone's interests but their own. Perhaps that level of myopia leaves them unexpectedly well-matched, even if not portends a thoroughly unhealthy relationship to follow.
But that's not what How I Met Your Mother seems to want its audience to take from "The Final Page." It wants us to take this all as the act of genuine devotion rather than of hopeless narcissism, as a moment filled with true love than a reveal of psychopathology, as two people who belong together beautifully and finally joining as one than as an implausible acceptance premised on falsehood and manipulations.
This, more than any prior missteps, more than any previous faults in the characters or the plot, more than even the justifiably polarizing finale, is the moment that broke the show, that proved it had truly and fully lost whatever tenuous grasp it had on its understanding of its characters, their stories, or how love and romance work. It's the point at which we were asked to accept the product of a depraved act of betrayal and manipulation as an enviable celebration of true feeling.
There was no turning back from "The Robin." No retcons could save it, and no amount of attempted rehabilitation could rescue the show in its wake. It is the point at which How I Met Your Mother ceased to be a series that had always had a certain rom-com view of romance but which grounded it in genuine human emotion and moments of real feeling, and instead became one simply playing out the string to its unsatisfying endgame, increasingly fixated on relationships that hadn't and didn't work, and which were founded on so much betrayal -- of character, of love, of common sense -- that it could no longer have even the force that came from the years of good will and myth the series had crafted for so long. "The Final Page" is, without question, the worst thing the show ever did, and true to HIMYM's non-linear bent, its ripples are felt in both the past and the future of the show.
8.1/10. A surprisingly good episode. Having people we mentally would put in "the pit" is one of those classic HIMYM concepts that starts out with lots of great comedic potential, but then leads to, as Ted puts it, a moment of "emotional clarity." Marshall jinxing Barney is one of those goofy friend group bits that the show does so well. And the laughs were mostly there too.
Ted going after an architecture professor who decried his skills as an architect to brag about his building, and realizing that he needs to move on and that the best revenge is living well was a nice little story for him, that showed some nice growth for the character. Similarly, Marshall and Lily running into an old college acquaintance (in a nice mini-Buffy reunion with Seth Green!) is mostly for laughs, but Green plays it well and the whole twist on "The Pit" is nice. Heck, even though I still pretty well hate Robin's arc at this point, her harshness to Patrice is at least mediated by Robin not firing her and Patrice comforting her.
As typical at this stage, a lot of it is still pretty broad, but I like the theme of the episode -- letting yourself out of "the pit," and moving on, and the show explored it in a nicely comedic way for the most part. Good stuff!
