Welp, like Tryion said, We're fucked. Living vs. The Dead. Season 8 A fight that only comes once.
The dragon pit scene was awesome. Getting so many characters all in one place at the same time was great to see. So many quick “oh, hey you’re still alive” moments. One of the best was Brienne and the Hound. Speaking of the Hound, we did not get the Cleganebowl we have been wanting for so long but at least he was able to tell his brother off. Maybe next season…
Cersei, as the hound would say, is a real cunt. She truly is the biggest villain this show has seen. She is lying to everyone about sending her armies north and bringing in more mercenaries to help fight while Dany is a little occupied. She not only threatened to kill not one of her brothers but both of them is the same episode. Jamie is finally getting smart and getting away from her, even if he is leaving to go fight an army of undead. I honestly think she might stick around to the end and keep the iron throne. She has no problem doing whatever it takes. She has a kid on the way and that is all she is worried about now (I still don’t think she will have the child because of the prophecy said she would only have three). Oh and the shot of snow falling on King's Landing was a beautiful reminder that winter is here.
The winterfell storyline finally did something amazing. Sansa’s “trial” of Littlefinger was a long time coming and with Bran there was no denying. I’m so glad Arya got to kill him with his own dagger. The sisters finally started acting like family.
Nice to see Theon having another chance at redemption. He had a nice moment with Jon about their dad, well technically Ned was neither of their father. I hope he gets to save Yara next season. I wonder where she is if Euron is going to Essos or could she already be dead?
The show finally says what all the fans have know for years, Jon is a true Targaryen and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. And they say it just as the two have sex for the first time, nothing new for this show. I’m sure this won’t be a problem. Dany will be cool with it, right? I mean the old Targaryens were into incest too. Maybe not we'll just have to wait and find out.
That last scene really was a little frightening, to see something that has been keeping the white walkers out for 8000 years to just go down like that. Now that the Night King has a dragon they are really going to cause some havoc. RIP Tormund and Beric? I don't think there were able to get off the wall in time but were they on the part still standing?
Great season, moved a little too fast and missed some of the slower character moments from old season. They definitely had some of the largest battle scenes TV has ever seen and I’m sure we are not done yet. Let the wait for season 8 begin…
[8.4/10] I feel like this episode isn't going to please most people. The critical crowd is going to be annoyed at it for indulging in fan service at times and wrapping a lot of character relationships too quickly. The more casual fan crowd is going to be upset that this episode was full of yakking and sparse on action or narrative momentum. But honestly, I really liked this one. I have to imagine that the next four super-sized episodes are going to be filled to the gils with action and high drama and excitement. In the prelude to that, it's really nice to get a series of quiet moments to reflect on where everyone has been to get to this point, and the uncertainty of the future, amid the other grace notes that "The Rightful Queen" provides.
Those are the two big ideas at the center of the episode. On the one hand, you have this sense of everyone both assuming that they're doomed but worrying about what the future holds. More than one character declares that they're all dead. And yet at the same time, you have Dany and others worrying about who might have a claim to the Iron Throne or some slice of the Seven Kingdoms. You have Tyrion and others worrying about who might become (or remain) Hand to the Queen. And you have everyone from Misandei to Sansa thinking about what the world looks like when this battle is over. There's the sense of an inevitable, mortal threat, but also of concern for where things stand after they've picked up the pieces.
But there's also a sense of marking how long the journey has been to reach this point and how much everyone has changed along it. Arya is grown, with her own skills, directness, and desires that mark a sharp contrast from the aspirational little girl who went with her father to King's Landing. Jaime and Tyrion are both much different men since they were "The Golden Lion" and "The Imp" who previously set foot in Winterfell ("the perils of self-betterment"). Hell, even the likes of Podrick has become a capable warrior (and classy singer to boot.) There's a boatload of taking stock in this episode, of remembering where everyone's been and the distance between here and there.
What's more, there's tons of nice little moments. Lyanna Mormont gets a nice scene with Jorah, Gilly gets a little time to shine, and Edd gets a chance to reunite with his Night's Watch brethren. That's all on top of Tyrion's little gathering by the fire, which makes the most of the hang out vibe this episode summons when the time is right.
All-in-all, this feels like one of those Game of Thrones episodes we'll remember beyond the bigger clashes and contretemps the series usually has in store. It's a slower episode, but one that deepens our understanding of where these characters at psychologically and developmentally after nearly eight seasons, and lets us wonder about what the future holds right alongside them.
I read all of the books in the series before the show premiered. After a couple of episodes, I was done with the show. The thought of repeating all of that horror and misery, only on the screen instead of the page, didn't seem worth it, production values be damned. Some months later, I happened to walk into a room where someone was watching one of the last episodes of the first season. It was a scene where Tywin Lannister sermonises to Jaime while butchering an animal. It was a scene not taken directly from the books, but made whole cloth for the TV show. I was mesmerised, and suddenly, all on board again.
To me, the appeal of Game of Thrones has never been in the way it brings the books alive, but in how it diverges. It's been in the way it's emphasised, through performance, the humanity of its characters (both for ill and good), thus giving me something I never got from Martin's writing. Where some have lamented the direction the show has taken since it started outpacing the source material, I've actually grown fonder of it. The farther away it's gotten from the cutting of those adaptational apron strings, the more I feel like it's grown into its own thing.
So, while I don't doubt that the remaining episodes of this final season will break my heart in lots of ways – and George R.R. Martin will find several more when he gets around to telling the "real" version of the same story – I thoroughly appreciate that Game of Thrones is the kind of the show that knows the importance of showing people coming together, huddling for warmth in the face of impending doom. I could still feel the claw in my gut, of the horror to come, but I'm glad that's not all the show is about.
There's no denying that this season has seen a downturn in the quality of writing. Characters are not acting like themselves and making choices which don't reflect the journeys they've been on. Ridiculous leaps in logic are made and time compression has suddenly made Westeros feel very small. Spectacle has taken centre stage and it feels like the lack of GRRM's own prose has left the show's writers floundering.
And I've got to be honest, it hasn't bothered me all that much, because it's been so incredibly fun. Say what you will, but season 7 has not been dull for a second. Yes, I've found parts frustrating and rolled my eyes in disbelief at the stupidity on display, but there's something to be said for the pure thrill involved in what's going on screen.
I might prefer things to be slowed down a bit and do miss the insightful dialogue and foreshadowing, but I'm not throwing my toys out of the pram over it as so many seem to be. Even in this state, Game of Thrones remains among the best programmes on television. The finale did make up for some of the seemingly moronic writing choices made in earlier episodes and demonstrated that it can still make me care for these characters and fear losing them.
Not perfect and not up to standard, no, but some of the most enjoyable viewing I've had this year.
Brace yourselves, dear viewers, for this episode will undoubtedly spark heated debates among fans. Some will love it, while others will loathe it—much like the game itself.
The Last of Us ends with a masterful coup de grâce, cementing this adaptation's place in the pantheon of prestige television.
It is sombre and dark yet replete with emotions that run deep. Joel, at long last, becomes a man of action. Whether his actions are morally defensible, however, is a subject of endless debate.
Staying true to the game, this episode does not falter in its execution, boasting a master-stroke opening that sets the stage for a gripping narrative to unfold. The strategic use of a flashback adds layers of complexity to already richly-wrought characters, serving as a catalyst for some of the most poignant dialogue between Joel and Ellie to date—dialogue sure to leave the audience teary-eyed.
The action is far from glorified, leaving viewers in a state of visceral shock and awe. The last couple of episodes have served to do some fantastic work for Joel, and this episode is the proverbial cherry on top, truly a beautiful and profound culmination of his character arc. Indeed, the show is a thing of beauty, but beauty that is shrouded in darkness.
Were a flaw to be ascribed, it would be that of brevity. At a mere 40 minutes, the finale feels curtailed. The absence of the Cordyceps is understandable, given the laser-focused narrative, though it marks a deviation from the source material.
By turns harrowing and humane, towering and intimate, this finale buries its hooks deeply in the viewer, capping off a brilliant maiden season. Love it or loathe it, impassioned discourse will assuredly abound in the wake of this uncompromising conclusion to the first chapter of The Last of Us.
01x09 - Look for the Light: 8.5/10 (Great)
I don’t know why people are complaining so much about Daenerys, this is her arch in the series, it is said from earler seasons, about her father and other Targaryens being mad. Her madness wasn’t out of nowhere... ahe was loved in the other part of the world and lost that in Westeros, she isn’t respected at all, she fought a war that wasn’t hers against the Night King, she lost half her army, 2 sons/dragons, Sor Johra, Misandei, she was betrayed by her council, Varys and Tyrion, she thought Jon doesn’t love her anymore because he knows he is the rightful heir... what do you people want more?? She simply thinks that she will be respected by “Fire and Blood”, since no one cares about all the good things she has done previously, she saved Westeros from the dead and yet people follow and love Jon. She decided to use her Targaryen power. It’s all her arch has shown us. And this episode brings the same feeling when Ned Stark was killed, people didn’t get it at that time, people got mad... this is Game of Thrones, wake up, breaker of standards. Go read about character archs. I just whish this season got more episodes, so it wouldn’t be so rushed.
[9.5/10] If there has been one thing consistent about Aang from the beginning, it’s that he follows his own path. From the minute we met him and he was more interested in riding penguins than showing spiritual reserve, it was clear that this was an Avatar who did not fit the mold. There was a uniqueness to him, a purity, that belied the chosen one bearing he had to carry.
That’s what stands out in Avatar: The Last Airbender’s wide-ranging, epic, moving finale. More than the moral turmoil that Aang had experienced in the last few episodes, more than the massive battle between the forces of good and the comet-fueled Fire Nation, there is a young man, making a choice because it’s what feels right to him, what feels true, and it is that trust in himself, that commitment to being who he is, that sees him through.
What is almost as impressive about the final two episodes of A:tLA, which essentially constitute one massive climax for the whole series, is how they manage to give almost every notable figure in the series something meaningful and dramatic to do. The episode truly earns the epic quality of its final frame, whether it’s focusing on the Order of the White Lotus retaking Ba Sing Se; Sokka, Toph, and Suki trying to sabotage the Fire Nation air fleet; Zuko and Katara confronting Azula; or Aang having his showdown with Ozai. The combination of all these great battle, all these profound and grand moments, make for an endlessly thrilling, dramatic finish for this great series.
The siege of Ba Sing Se mostly serves as a series of fist pumps for the viewer, getting to watch these trained masters face their foes with ease. Like the rest of the episode, it shows off the visual virtuosity as the series pulls out all the stops for its final battle. Jeong Jeong redirects fire with awesome force. Bumi launches tanks like play things with his earthbending. Pakku washes away enemies with a might tidal wave, and Piando slides on the frozen path over the wall, slashing away at Fire Nation soldiers all the while.
And Iroh? Iroh breathes in the power of Sozin’s comet. He creates a fireball that bowls through the walls of the famed city. He burns away the Fire Nation banner that hangs over the palace. It is a sign that for as much as A:tLA is a story of the last generation letting down the next one, there are still members of the old guard there to fight for what’s right and make a stand for a better world.
That world is threatened by the Fire Nation Air Fleet. In truth, the cell-shaded CGI war balloons look a little dodgy. Something about the animation is a little too stilted, to where when the cinematography is cool, the computer-generated elements stick out like sore thumbs and hurt the immersion of the show. Nevertheless, there is something truly frightening about Ozai and company at the head of those ships, imbued with power by the comet, launching these fireballs and streams of flaming destruction down on the land below. It is a terrifying image that brings to mind footage from Vietnam of fire raining from above. As much as the cel-shading looks a little off, the imagery of the elemental powers used in the episode is awesome, in the original sense of the term, provoking terror and astonishment.
Thankfully we have our two favorite badass normal folks and the resident (and as far as we know) only metalbender to help destroy the fleet. It is a nice outing for Sokka, Toph, and Suki, who find a way to not only contribute to the great war effort, but to have moments of risk and drama where you wonder if they will make it out alive or not, featuring big damn hero moments for each of them.
It’s hard to even know where to begin. There is Toph launching the three of them onto the nearest ship, turning into a metal-coated knight, and neutralizing the command crew. There is the hilarious interlude where Sokka manages to lure the rank-and-file crewmen into the bombing bay with the promise of cakes and creams, with the lowly henchman making extremely funny small talk before being dumped in the bay. It’s nice that even in these heightened moments, the show has not forgotten its sense of humor.
But that humor quickly gives way to big risks and bravery from the trio. I appreciate that Sokka’s ingenuity gets one last chance to shine, when he’s inspired by Aang’s “air slice” and repositions the ship he’s piloting to cut through the rest of the fleet, downing as much of it as possible. That move, naturally, leads their vessel to go down itself, and the big escape separates him and Suki.
Still, Sokka and Toph are undeterred, and after some close shaves, Toph uses her metal-bending abilities to change the fin on another airship to send it into its neighbors. Again, it’s nice to see the show, even in this late hour, finding creative uses for its characters’ talents, which give each of them a chance to have a hand in saving the day. That includes Sokka and Toph finding themselves pursued by Fire Nation soldiers, and Sokka getting to use both his boomerang and his “space sword” one last time. And when despite having taken out their pursuers, it still looks like all is lost for the pair, there is Suki, having taken command of another airship, there to save them from their tenuous, dangling position.
It’s a superb series of sequences, one that manages to combine some incredible in-the-air action and combat with character moments that feel true to the people we’ve come to know over the course of the series. Toph still has her smart remarks; Suki still manages to be in the right place at the right time, and Sokka, far from shrinking from the moment as he feared after the invasion, employs the creative solutions to difficult problems that have become his trademark. It is a great tribute and final triumph for all three characters.
But they are not the only trio of Avatar characters who find themselves embroiled in combat on the day Sozin’s comet arrives. But far from the larger-than-life, heroic tones of the battle in the skies, the fight between Azula, Zuko, and Katara has an air of tragedy about it.
What’s impressive is how, so near the end of the series, A:tLA can make the audience feel for Azula, even as she is at her most deranged and dangerous. It is late in the day for a character study, and yet we delve into Azula’s broken psyche in a way that the show has only toyed with before. What’s revealed is scary, but also sad, the pained cries and last gasps of a young woman who never really had a chance, who was brought up by a tyrant like Ozai, rather than a kindly old man like Iroh, and it left her damaged and alone.
It also left her paranoid. One of the defining leitmotifs of Avatar: The Last Airbender is the way that Aang, despite being the chosen one, laden with a solitary destiny, has found strength in his connections to his friends, who sustain him in times of doubt and difficulty. The finale underscores the importance of that by contrasting how Azula alienates everything approaching an ally she has, and it leaves her not only vulnerable, but deeply suspicious, until she loses her grip on her own sanity.
That’s dramatized in the way she banishes a humble servant girl for daring to give her a cherry with a pit in it, in how she banishes the Dai Lee for fear that they will turn on her the way that she got them to turn on Long Feng, in her equally harsh banishment of her twin, elderly caretakers (or at least one of them), when they express concern for her well-being. Though Mai and Tai-Lee have only small roles to play in this episode, the force of their presence is felt in the way that their betrayal of Azula leads her to believe that everyone is a backstabber or turncoat in waiting, and that, poetically enough, becomes the source of her downfall, to where when the threat truly emerges, she has no one there to help and protect her.
And yet, that is not the deepest depth of her loneliness. In a particularly difficult moment, one where Azula has taken out her anger on her own hair, she sees an image of her mother in the mirror. It is a bridge too far, the ultimate pain that Azula has refused to confront, replaced with ambition and intimidation so as not to have to face it. But that vision represents a knowing part of Azula, one that understands how she’s succumbed to fear and paranoia, one that cannot help but feel the hurt of the belief that her own mother thinks she’s a monster, and one that knows despite that, her mother still loves her, something that makes that pain all the more unbearable.
It also makes her less capable, less focused, less ready to face her brother in a duel. Zuko sees the way that his sister is slipping, and is willing to face her alone in the hopes of sparing Katara since he believes he can win. Their fight is a beautiful and tragic one. The combination of Azula’s blue flame and Zuko’s red one echoes the red and blue dragons that reinvigorated Zuko and Aang’s firebending abilities, and which represented the conflicting sides of Zuko’s own psyche. The opposing forces swirl and twist in the field of battle.
But unlike the rest of the episode, this is not played as an epic confrontation. It is played as a moment of great sorrow. While the whirl of the fire blasts rings out and the structures around the siblings singe and crackle, wailing violins play. Azula cackles and cries out, her eyes wide, her smile crooked, her demeanor unhinged. Zuko is not simply conquering an enemy who has tormented him since he was a little boy; he is doing what he must do against someone who has everything, and yet has lost everything, including her mind.
That just makes Azula all the more dangerous, but that ends up making Zuko all the more noble. While Azula is wild and unsteady, Zuko is prepared, baiting his sister into trying to blast him with lightning in the hopes that he may redirect it and end this. Instead, Azula charges up her power and, at the last second, aims it a bystander Katara rather than her brother. The move throws off Zuko, and in the nick of time, he dives in front of the blast and absorbs the electricity to spare Katara. It is the last sign of his transformation, an indication of his willingness to sacrifice himself for one of the people he once attacked himself. It is a selfless gesture, and a desperate one, that shows how Zuko’s transformation is truly complete.
It also leaves Katara fighting a completely mad Azula all by herself. I must admit, I was mildly irked when Zuko cast Katara aside and intended to fight Azula solo, sidelining one of the show’s major figures, but I should have known better than to think the series would avoid giving her one of those vital moments of glory and bravery.
With a dearth of water in the Fire Kingdom capital, and Azula too crazed and unpredictable to fight straight up, Katara must also be creative. Her water blasts turn to steam against Azula’s electric fury. But Katara is as clever as she is talented, and in yet another inventive way to defeat the enemy, she lures Azula over a sewer grate where, just before Azula is able to launch a deadly attack, Katara raises the water and freezes the both of them in place.
Then, in a canny move, she nabs a nearby chain, uses her waterbending abilities to move through the ice, and confines her attacker so that she is incapable of doing any more damage. It is an imaginative way to end the fight, one that show’s Katara’s resourcefulness and gives her a much-deserved win. She heals Zuko, who has truly and fully earned her respect and admiration. Azula has only earned a bitter end – her manic screams devolve into sobs, the loss of so much, the crumbling security of who she was and what she was fading away, until all that is left is a pitiable, broken young woman.
Azula has been a one-note villain at points in the series, one whose evil seemed inborn and whose nature left her without some of the complexity that other figures in the series have possessed. But here, she becomes a tragic figure, one who has committed terrible deeds and who tries to commit more, but whose being raised to obtain power at all costs leaves her unable to enjoy or sustain the only thing she’s ever wanted, and utterly alone.
Aang, on the other hand, is trapped between two things that he wants very badly: to defeat Ozai in order to end this war and save the world, and also to avoid taking a life. Their confrontation lives up to the billing and hype it’s received over the course of the series. The mountainous range provides the perfect backdrop for their fight, with plenty of earth and water for Aang to summon as he combats the series’s big bad at a time when Ozai is infused with the tremendous power of the comet.
The two dart and dash across those jutting rocks, a furious ballet accented with mortal, elemental beauty. Ozai declares that Aang is weak, that he cannot defeat Ozai, particularly at the height of his powers, and despite the realization that this is not the kind of show where the hero fails in the final act, you fear for Aang, for what will be required of him in order to end this. This is, after all, not how this fight was supposed to happen. Aang was supposed to have mastered all four elements, to be Ozai’s equal, not a talented but inexperienced young upstart trying to best the man who has conquered the world.
So in a difficult moment, he retreats into a ball of rock that provides temporary but needed protection from Ozai’s assault. It calls to mind the big ball of ice that Aang retreated to a century ago, a safe haven when the weight of the world became too much for him, and he hid rather than rose to face it. It cements the possibility that Aang is not ready for this, that he was never ready for this, and for all the good intentions he may have, he will pay the ultimate price for that.
Instead, when Ozai penetrates the rock and sends Aang flying, he reaps more than he bargained for. The former Fire Lord’s blast shoots Aang into a nearby rock, and as a sharp point digs into the scar from where Azula nearly killed him at the end of Season 2, it triggers the Avatar state.
Aang emerges from the pile of rubble that the gloating Ozai approaches. Aang glows and speaks with a voice of thunder and fury. Ozai comes at the demigod with all his power but Aang slaps away his flaming blast with the back of his hand. The Avatar assembles the four elements, bringing them to bear against his opponent. He surrounds himself in a bubble of air; he summons earth, fire, and water in rings that surround him. He comes at Ozai with his full force, sending him reeling through rock and rubble, confining him with the land itself. Aang raises this swirl into a knife’s edge, driving it down into his prone opponent.
And then, once more, at the last minute, he stops. The whirl of elements turned into a lethal weapon evaporates into a harmless puddle. Aang stands, unable to do it. Even in the moment where he seems poised to fulfill his destiny, Aang cannot bring himself to snuff out a life in this world. It is against everything he believes in, everything he stands for. Ozai declares that even with all the power in the world, Aang is still weak, that his inability to do what must be done to his enemy renders him lesser.
It is then that Aang finds another way. He confines Ozai using the earth itself once more, rests his hands on Ozai’s persons, and begins to bend the energy itself. What ensues is a spiritual struggle, one that matches the confluence of red and blue that signified the two sides at war within Zuko. For a moment, it appears as though even in this, Ozai will triumph, that the red glowing embers that represent the cruel spirit of this awful man will overtake our hero. It’s rendered in beautiful hues, a burst of light erupting across a dark landscape.
But Aang is not to be overcome. The outpouring of pure blue light emanates from his body. He will not be moved, not be altered, not be changed. Instead, it is Ozai who falters, his ability to bend fire, his tool for committing all of this evil, is taken away from him. The threat is over; the war is done, and Aang has fulfilled his destiny, on his own terms.
There is release, a chance to reflect and take stock and enjoy the glow of having completed this difficult journey. Aang and Zuko speak to one another as Roku and Sozin once did – as friends. (Incidentally, the also confirm that the entire series took place within just a year, which seems kind of crazy.) They embrace, the two young men who were once bitter enemies now trusted allies. Mai and Tai Lee are released and seem to have new destinies themselves. Zuko credits The Avatar to a throng of people at his coronation as Fire Lord, and he is not surrounded by Fire Nation loyalists, but a balanced group of supporters from all nations, there to help rebuild the world. “The Phoenix King” promised to burn down the old world and make a new one from the ashes, and in a way, he has made good on his promise, albeit not in the way he intended.
There is such hope and catharsis in these last scenes. Aang is at peace, his mission complete, freed from the burden that created so much hardship over the past year. Zuko too is in a place of calm, having restored his honor and ascended to the throne, though not as the vicious ruler his father envisioned, but as the kind and noble man his uncle did, one ready to lead his people to a new era. After one hundred years of war and bloodshed, there is the hope that this new generation, one that has tried to cast off the scars and mistakes of the past, can make a new way forward.
We also get one last scene of Team Avatar as we knew them – simply enjoying one another’s company. Iroh plays music, the rest of the gang chats, and Sokka creates an embellished, mostly inaccurate drawing that he defends in his trademark way. This is a family – an unlikely one, filled with individuals collected from across the world from different backgrounds and temperament, but one that, through their shared vision and efforts and care for another, really did manage to save the world.
Aang gazes upon this scene lovingly as he walks out to see the new day and drink in the peace of his surroundings. Katara follows him, and in a wordless scene, with the glow of golden clouds behind them, the two embrace, and then kiss.
It’s the one scene in this finale that I do not care for. As I’ve said before, despite Aang’s crush, the chemistry between him and Katara always felt more friendly, even motherly, than romantic, a childlike crush Aang would need to one day move past than the trappings of true romantic love. It sends the series out on something of a false note, albeit one that the show has teased many times over the course of its run.
Still, it represents the larger idea of the episode – that even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aang chooses his own path, one true to who he is and what he believes. I’ve expressed my skepticism about his unwillingness to take Ozai’s life, but however foolhardy it may seem at times, it is a reflection of the young man who never seemed like the Avatar he was supposed to be, who instead, forged his own way. That way was often off-beat, confused, and at times, well-meaning but foolish, but it was always a moral one, and more to the point, one that reflected the unique attitudes of the young man who carried them.
He chose to run rather than be sent on his Avatar training. He chose to fight rather than sever his connection to the people he cared about. And he chose to find another way rather than violate his personal, ethical code against killing another human being. In the end, he became his own sort of Avatar, one that did not simply accede to the will of destiny or expectation and tradition but instead made his own way without sacrificing the purity of his spirit or his convictions. There is something admirable, something true in that, and it makes for a satisfying finish to this incredible series.
Avatar: The Last Airbender truly deserves that superlative. Though the series took some time to find its voice, eventually it would flesh out an incredible world, filled with well-developed characters, a deep, generational lore, and a core cast who grew more multi-dimensional and complex as it progressed. The show deserves to take its place among the great stories of chosen ones, the stellar, epic tales that offer hardship and hope, struggle and success, tragedy and triumph. With an attention to detail and character that made those larger-than-life events meaningful, it captures an amazing journey. The series is the story of a collection of young people, amid a war and a struggle they are not quite ready for, renewing the promises that this world can offer and discovering who they are in the process. In that, they returned harmony to the four nations, and to one another, and that’s what makes A:tLA so great.
"Lead them to paradise."
So epic! A proper sequel to the masterpiece that is the first one, Dune: Part Two is everything I wanted and more. The scale and the stakes are much bigger. It really benefits from the world-building and character roots previously established in the first and makes everything bloom. The themes (and at times criticisms) on religion and politics felt so refreshing for a sci-fi movie. It's pretty thought-provoking in that sense. The story had me captivated and invested. It still has it's slow moments but the action sequences are perfectly placed and the payoff in the third act is so worth it.
The biggest praise I could give it is the character arcs and evolution. Paul's evolution here is so fascinating, we basically watch a boy become a man. At the beginning of the movie you fear for his life but by the second half he's the one to fear, emanating confidence. Timothée Chalamet absolutely owned it. Austin Butler is the perfect villain, so unpredictable and violent. I love Jessica's character arc but it felt rushed at times, like she changed too much in between some scenes. The Reverend Mother is so badass, i'm always secretly rooting for her for some reason (the "silence" moment was perfection).
I wasn't expecting the amount of action we got, compared to the first there's a lot. The action and set pieces are so memorable. The worm riding scene was the best moment of the entire movie, I felt so alive with all the special effects and the sound design and the vibrations it's like I was riding it myself. Epic third act battle and hand-to-hand knife scene (although it isn't top tier combat compared to a lot of action movies but the editing and camerawork made it look flawless). They did skip some action in the third act that I wanted to see more of though.
God tier cinematography. I thought there was no way it could look better than the first but they somehow managed to make it look even better in this one. Loved the color grading and the way the sand moves, flawless. The most visually stunning sequence was the black and white one introducing Austin Butler's character. Epic sound design.
I keep trying to pick a favorite between Part One and Part Two and I don't think it's going to happen... they're equal. Overall an excellent sequel. Can't wait to see what's in store for Part Three.
Weird season finale. After all the build up, everything feels anticlimactic. Right down from A-Train--the reason all this mess started--to Homelander.
Before we get to that, let's talk a bit about how weird the whole prison sequences play out. The joke, the attempted rescue, the shootout, all feel really weak especially compared to well-directed sequences in prior episodes. First of all there is really no need for some jocular banter that went for about two minutes or more. Not to mention the pauses. It feels dragging. This includes the attempted rescue which continues the joke.
Second, the shootout looks really weird. We've seen Frenchie did his weird stuff when it comes to the Female/Kimiko, but this doesn't seem logical. He is a professional killer, why the hell he keeps on showing up his head to look at Kimiko when getting shot at? Is he looking to die? Not to mention he got shot prior, on the stomach, how the hell he can walk and help Kimiko walk that easily? Hughie getting to shoot randomly while saying "I'm sorry! I'm sorry" and miraculously hit trained soldiers is even worse. Even the Starlight rescue looks like a cheap deus ex machina for the plot to goes forward.
The Boys had been attempting to mock the quip-ridden superhero genre--that is, the Marvel Cinematic Universe--but the whole prison sequences makes The Boys looks exactly like an MCU episode.
Now we get to the supes.
The Deep. His subplot has been standing on its for quite a while now. There seems to be no direct connection with the bigger plot that has been going on. And this episode his subplot stays that way, while still giving him enough screen time to focus on his emotion. I'm not sure if that is something we wanted to see for a finale. It feels like something to be saved for future seasons. Even if that doesn't mean it's bad, they could have cut it way shorter than what they did.
Then the thing with A-Train feels very anticlimactic. He just popped up there out of nowhere. We were previously shown his desire, his post-power syndrome, his attempt to be relevant. Then in the supposedly final showdown, we finally see Hughie vs A-Train head on. But we don't see A-Train. We see an injured A-Train, a traumatic supe in his mental and physical breakdown. Now this still could be an interesting, emotional confrontation between our protagonist with the one who murdered his sweetheart. Not to mention, the presence of Starlight could make this dynamic interesting--is Hughie done for, how would he cope between his past and present emotion? What we get instead, however, is a slow motion capture with very minuscule combat and almost none of emotional engagement. Then A-Train just went, just like that.
I feel like they are saving him for future episodes, but this being the finale--the culmination of all emotion that has been built up so far--makes this confrontation very lacking. It feels like we are still on Eps 5 or 6, but with worse pacing.
Now Homelander. He is our another main driver of the plot. Everything that has happened so far always leads us back to him. His dynamics with Madelyn the CEO has been a bizarre Oedipus complex-like situation, What happened between them in this episode is actually very unexpected, though one may sense that it would eventually came to this point through the clues scattered so far. This result should have provided a surprising reveal. However, as it turns out, there seems to be something hollow in the encounter. Given the interesting portrayal of their faux-mother-son-sexual-relationship in the first half of the episode, the second half seems to speed up the climax. As if they were being chased by some deadline, that they have to cut it short, while at the same time giving enough spaces for Homelander to give his, in Maeve's words in previous episodes, "boring speeches."
It feels climactic and inconclusive at the same time. And I guess the same can be said with many encounters in this episode. Starlight with Meave. Billy with the CIA. Hughie with Starlight at the church. It feels like they have to speed it up--to shove in the dialogues--for the sake of putting the plot forward. It's shaky and unreliable.
Now, the end of the episode leads us to a quite intriguing reveal. It's not the direction we--or at least, I--expected to take in the season. However, with such really weak build up throughout the episode, the ending feels like forced. As if they have prepared them to be this way, but still unsure how they would bring it up to this moment. As such, while the scene itself is (should be?) surprising, there is not much surprise when I watch the event unfolds. It's less of a "wow, so this is it?" than a "oh okay, so this happens, and then?"
Credits where it's due: Anthony Starr as Homelander and Karl Urban as Billy Butcher display terrific performances in this episode. Especially Homelander with his extremely erratic, unpredictable behavior. But that alone is not enough to pardon the sloppiness of this episode.
Perhaps because they, like MCU and other superhero movies, seem to busy themselves to prepare for the upcoming season instead of trying to give audience a closure of the plot. And that exact reason is what makes superhero movies went boring for these past years. They are focusing to build an universe, instead of writing a good narrative. Unfortunately, this episode robs the fresh air that The Boys has breathe for quite some time. While I hope for the continuation of the series, I am less excited.
Melisandre: What do we say to the God of good episodes? Writers: Not today!
I feel like the writers are trying to insult people's intelligence this season.
Writer of the episode said that, and I quote ''Dany kind of forgot about Euron's fleet, but they haven't forgotten about her..'' She forgot. Everyone mentions the fleet 3 scenes before they show up and she was in that scene.
Not only did Dany suddenly suffer from concussion and forgot about them, she also couldn't see the entire fleet while flying high in the air. But tbf, they were hiding behind little rocks so she could not see them. Then Rhaegal gets hit 3 times in 3 tries, but when Dany goes straight at Euron (and does nothing) every arrow misses Drogon, of course. But then they destroy Dany's ships in a single minute, no misses there again, I'm afraid.
There were more bad things in this episode, like how no one else noticed Bronn (with big crossbow) in Winterfell, how no one asked for Arya's and Bran's help against Cersei, how Sam didn't ask Jon why he didn't help him in the last episode when he was lying on the ground, why Cersei didn't just kill everyone in that last scene, etc.. but the thing I hated the most was when characters were about to finally learn about Aegon Targaryen and then the show would just cut away from those scenes. We have time for those drinking games and romantic soap opera parts of the episode, but we cut away from Sansa's, Tyrion's and Arya's reaction about AT. Nice writing and directing.
The only scene that I liked and that reminded me of old GOT (S1-S4) was Tyrion and Varys conversation.. until Varys said that he'll betray Dany. Writers are probably going to kill him in the next episode because of that. In earlier seasons that character would never say his real thoughts, he would lie to Tyrion and then quietly spread info about Jon's true identity everywhere.
This is just.. sad.
Very disappointing episode. Anyone saying it’s the best episode of this show is just caught up in the hype.
Visually, this episode was fantastic. And as a stand-alone episode, it was very good. But when you take this as an episode of Game of Thrones and think about everything that led to this, it’s undeniably disappointing.
Barely anyone died. Most of the characters had super thick plot armour. Lots of plot holes. Anti-climactic ending. I don’t mind that Arya killed the Night King. I also don’t mind how it happened. But for it to happen so soon... the army of the dead have been hyped up since season 1 as the true enemy, and we were told that they were the most dangerous army in the show. Yet all they accomplished was the deaths of a few side characters. It’s pathetic compared to the feats of other characters and armies in past seasons. The Night King should have taken Winterfell and killed at least a few main characters. The survivors should have them retreated somewhere and then beat the Night King in a later episode. The Night King and the army of the dead did not come across as very threatening by the end of this episode. They were unable to kill any main characters, and they were defeated in the first proper battle they took part in.
Very disappointing. My rating is only as high as it is because of the great visuals and the value of the episode as a stand-alone piece of television.
The Boys does its job best when they jab at mockery of how the show biz operates. The first thing Vought does then they know that Queen Maeve is bi is to capitalize it: make her sexuality as a performance in their newest movie. But not only that; they need to make Maeve not just a bi, but a lesbian, and her partner - Elena - has to be made to wear men's fashion. Because "lesbian is a bit more easy to sell" and "Americans are more accepting of gay when they are in clear-cut gender role relationship". Companies like Vought, like its real-life counterpart (Disney), cares much more about how something sells than the nuance behind it. This parody is even funnier considering that they have a Jon Favreau look-a-like and a guy named Joss (Whedon?) who handle the Dawn of Seven movie production.
Aside from that, the episode continues the tense relationship between Starlight and Stormfront, and we start to see how Stormfront attempts to pull strings to maintain her position in The Seven.
Two things I notice though: the part where Homelander murdered a bunch of civilian in the public, that turns out to be an imagination feels a bit like cop-out, however it is interesting that it parallels Hughie's frustration when he lost Robin back in the first eps. of Season 1. The way Noir and Butcher confrontation is handled also feels a bit too easy, especially after the big build up about them being Vought most wanted in earlier episode.
[9.5/10] So much to like about this one. The show is really moving at an impressive pace at this point, with events and aftershocks and reunions that would have taken entire seasons in prior years happening one right after another. But despite that, what I like about "Eastwatch" is that it features a lot of people reflecting and taking stock and worrying about what the future holds. For as much happens personally and in terms of setting the table for later events, this episode is kind of an inbetweener, one that moves our heroes and villains around before the next big event, but gets so much mileage out of the interactions and face-to-face meetings from the show's deep bench of characters.
In the big picture, that means that Dany and Cersei are likely to have an audience together, but for that to mean something, Jon and a motley crew of uneasy allies has to set out north of The Wall to retrieve a wight for proof of the oncoming invasion. That means that Dany and Cersei are willing to set aside hostilities, however temporarily or connivingly, and that Tyrion and Jaime get a tense but impactful reunion as well. It also means that we get a much tenderer reunion between Jorah and Dany, some tension between Arya and Sansa, and most notably, a tenuous union among Jon, Jorah, Tormund, The Hound, The Brotherhood Without Banners, and Gendry.
That's right! Gendry is back! And his repartee with Ser Davos, his instant rapport with Jon Snow, and his quick-thinking warhammer use with the Gold Cloaks makes for a fistpump-worthy return for King Robert's bastard. He's one of the last few major characters whom we haven't seen in ages, and it's a thrill of a return engagement from him.
But the thing I liked most about this episode is Tyrion's concerns about what kind of ruler he's backing. The moral and political questions involved in Dany turning the Tarlys to ash are many and thorny, but it's a very timely worry that a leader who's ready to easily threaten fiery death may very well be one who raises serious concerns. Varys's remembrance of his time serving the Mad King, and the way he left himself off the hook ethically for his complicity in the deaths of Aegon's "traitors" makes for an interesting counterpoint to the view of the bold leader we've come to appreciate over the course of the series.
On the whole, it's a stellar episode, filled with humor, character history, moral ambiguities, and the kind of high-minded reflection grounded in long-standing characterization that I really like. Best of the season so far.
6.4/10. I enjoyed the season premiere of The Walking Dead better than most. I understand the complaints that it was too bleak, too cruel, and too hopeless, but to my mind, it made sense to establish Negan as a threat and as a character. There have been so many ineffectual bad guys on this show, so many antagonists who seemed like mere speed bumps along the way toward Rick & Co. getting the big win. It makes sense to me that TWD needed to make a big introduction to convince the audience that Negan and The Saviors were something different and something serious.
I also didn’t mind the hopelessness of it. Sure, it’s difficult to see the good guys broken, to see characters we know and love brutalized, to see the bad guys seem to take great joy in the process. But shows like The Walking Dead need stakes. In order for the heroes’ inevitable triumph to feel earned and meaningful, you need to make the villain not only someone whose loss doesn’t seem preordained, but who’s worth beating. The suffering at this point of the arc will, with any luck, pay off down the line when the good guys strike their blow against Negan and his goons.
The problem is that the premiere, “The Day Will Come When You Won’t Be,” already felt like a lot. It was a lot of blood and guts, a lot of horrible acts, and a lot of Negan preening and chewing scenery. It works as an opening salvo for the character and as the culmination of the build to Negan that had been bubbling up since the midpoint of Season 6, but it’s a lot to take in. The audience can only stand so much of that level of cruelty and velvet-lined venom before it starts to overwhelm.
Which means that an episode that basically acted as a sequel to the premiere, that gave us buckets and buckets of Negan’s routine, that skimped on the violence but doubled down on the lack of hope idea, comes off as rubbing the viewer’s noses in all of this. Making “Service” a super-sized episode to boot, one that packs in an extra twenty minutes or so worth of the same sneering bad guy stuff, the same hammered home message about Alexandria’s weak position, worsens the problem.
It’s especially rough for the character of Negan himself. I’ve enjoyed Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s performance as the season’s new big bad. It’s a difficult character to find the balance of. By definition, he has to be outsized, someone so grandiose and convinced of his own smoothness, but also someone who feels like a predator and not just a clown. Morgan pulls that off. He has Negan’s shit-eating grin down pat. He lays into his lines with a joy and a casual cruelty that lets you know he thinks of himself as the cock of the walk and the coolest guy in the room.
But again, too much of that begins to wear. The Walking Dead has had outsized characters before -- The Governor probably comes closest to Negan’s theatrical bent -- but so far Negan has really only played that one note. He gives you the sort of gleeful menace, the man who toys with his prey and thinks himself a just and noble ruler. That works well enough in small doses, but pile it on like TWD does in “Service” and you start to see the seams. It begins to feel as though the show is spinning its wheels, repeating itself as Negan simply reestablishes the things previously established memorably in previous episodes.
It also doesn’t help that “Service” has absolutely plodding pacing. Not every Walking Dead episode needs to be eventful of full of fast-paced action, but despite some effort at conflict on the margins, most of this episode is just a big walk around Alexandria for The Saviors. Seeing the effect that Negan has on the rest of the camp, the way the last bits of resistance are meant to be stamped out, is a valid and arguably necessary tack to take in the aftermath of the events of the season premiere, but there’s not enough there, or at least not enough of what we’ve seen, to fill an episode all on its own, let alone one with an extended runtime.
Those conflicts feel fairly tepid. The missing guns provides fodder for Rick to give one of his trademark speeches, albeit one about knuckling under rather than fighting back. This episode is full of reminders, constant conversations, and loud declarations, that “this is our lives now,” that things are different and can’t go back to the way they were. So when Rick finds Spencer’s guns and turns them over to Negan in exchange for Olivia’s life, it’s anticlimactic, feeling like there was never really much of a risk, but that the whole issue was drummed up, forced conflict to give a reason for that speech and to accentuate the mostly forgotten wedge between Rick and Spencer.
“Service” plants the seeds for that growing rift, with Spencer still resentful of Rick after the death of his parents, and laying the Saviors’ new order at his feet. It’s an issue that’s bound to come up at an inconvenient time, quite possibly with Spencer trying to make his own deal with Negan and ending up meeting a grisly end for the trouble after Negan decides to stick with Rick for his greater earning potential. But in the brief time we’ve known him, Spencer’s never been a particularly interesting character, which makes it hard to be too invested in that storyline or its implications.
The same can largely be said for Rosita, though she’s gotten a bit more characterization and adventure over the past couple of seasons. She is part of a different strain running through this episode, of people who are poised and ready to resist The Saviors, even if they don’t quite have the tools or the plan to do so just yet. Her task to retrieve Daryl’s bike (and attempt to find a gun from one of Dwight’s deceased running buddies) mostly serves as yet another opportunity for people to debate whether The Saviors can be stopped or whether the denizens of Alexandria should simply accept that this is how things are now. We’re given plenty of plausible justifications -- that The Saviors have greater numbers, more weapons, and a ruthlessness that makes them a threat to everyone and everything -- but the endless back and forth over it (probably meant to answer the “why don’t they just mount a resistance now?” question from the audience) isn’t particularly compelling.
It also bleeds into an uncomfortable air of rape among The Saviors. We see it in the disgusting way that Negan talks about Maggie (who, in one of the cannier narrative choices, has been whisked away elsewhere before Rick tells Negan she passed away). We see it in Dwight’s uncomfortable treatment of Rosita, and we see it in the particularly unsettling way that one of Negan’s henchmen tries to get Enid to repeat the word please.
I’m of two minds about this. On the one hand, as uncomfortable as these moments are, we’re talking about the bad guys here. We’re not supposed to like them, and so deplorable behavior is more excusable. What’s more, rape is about power, and the overtones to Negan’s behavior underscores the way in which he is, despite his violent and sexual appetites, clearly interested in the power of his acts, the way it allows him to act unfettered and unchallenged, than any inherent pleasure he gets from them. On the other hand, in the henchmen especially, it feels like a cheap way to make them seem more villainous, a shorthand in lieu of something better earned or more thematic. It all depends on where the show takes this particular thread in the rest of the season.
The same goes for the episode’s closing scenes. Michonne is exactly the type who, as her experience with The Governor portends, will not sit idly by while someone like this prances around and tries to keep her people under his thumb. But Rick’s speech, while not enough to convince her, at least ties the “we have to do what Negan says” sledgehammer of a point into something emotional and steeped in the history of the series.
The parallels are loose, but when Rick confesses that he knows Judith belongs to Shane, there’s power in it because it’s one of those few plot threads from the beginning of the show that haven’t been tied off yet. And the thematic resonance of it, that sometimes we have to accept hard truths, things that tear us up, in order to do what we need to do to protect the people we care about, is solid. Negan’s actions make Rick’s knuckles tighten up on Lucille when Negan’s back is turned, but his desire to keep the Alexandrians safe loosens his grip, allows him to make all these compromises and admission in the hopes that they’ll stay alive and healthy even under such harsh conditions.
That’s a fine way to dramatize the yoke under which Rick and Michonne and their band of survivors are living, the choices they must make every day. It’s just too much of Negan’s scenery-chewing, self-aggrandizing flotsam to where that resolution feels like too little too late.
It’s important to establish your villains. It’s important to make them notable characters in their own right, and to show them besting the heroes, posing a genuine threat, so that the eventual victory doesn’t feel hollow. But when you spend so much time with this bastard, so much time reinforcing how terrible he is and how little hope there is, those remaining moments when you try to show that there may be a light at the end of the tunnel, a reason behind the capitulation, it feels like a mere tiny bit of salve after forty minutes with your hand in the fire. Strong villains are good, but make them monolithic and give entire, overly long episodes over to their villainy, and the audience will be as apt to give up as Rick is.
Smile everyone, smile! TWD is back! This episode was all about feeling fully alive. Rick's journey is not easy. He knows this is not living. He's the walking dead. Michonne said it "We're the ones who live". Being hopeless and powerless doesn't make him feel alive. Michonne told him to smile because they were alive. But Rick wasn't, not until the very end when he found out that new community. Now he's is. There's hope now.
That scene with the wire and the herd of walkers, holy shit. Greatest walker massacre I remember. It was magical. As soon as I saw the herd I was freaking out about how awesome this could be. It made my day. Over 300+ confirmed kills. Rick and Michonne 1 - Walkers 0. Honest question now, does it really count as dead if they just slide their torsos?
This episode was all about getting an army to face the Saviors. That's all Rick wants. That's why he wasn't afraid at the end. He needs people and that new group is gonna make it. It was a quick episode but it had time for character development. I really love Rick's journey from total submission to that hope at the end.
And Gabriel at the very beginning. I've got two options. The easy one is that he's been threatened or coerced by that person in the car. He went from being calm to being anxious and nervous. I don't really think he has betrayed them. And Two: maybe he left to find a new community and that is the one Rick's group found at the end. That's why Rick smiled, because he knew what Gabriel did.
How the hell does Negan have the best lines even when he's not in the episode? "Without Fat Joey, Skinny Joey is now just Joey. So it's a goddamn tragedy". I also loved Rick's reaction to Shiva like "yeah...the tiger".
Why is Rosita so bitchy with Sasha and Morgan? She's the reason Olivia's dead and that the Saviors took Eugene. She gave Sasha the now-we're-cool look last episode. So it doesn't make sense.
Anyways, pretty solid episode. Having Morgan foreshadowing locking Negan was pretty cool, too.
I'm autistic. Attack on Titan has been my hyperfixation more often than any other piece of media in my life. I started watching a little late, entering in when the first part of the final season was out. But Attack on Titan is one of the most masterful, well-plotted, intricate pieces of fiction that I've ever seen. Analyzing it's mysteries and story, it's characters and world, it's message and symbolism. Nothing even comes close to Attack on Titan for me in that regard.
I unfortunately have been spoiled on many parts of the ending, because manga readers are the most insufferable people ever. But even still, it is an excellent conclusion, and I think it's so interesting how it decides to leave it's ending open to interpretation. It reflects how the entire series has been a series of questions and mysteries, so leaving with some questions left unanswered allows for discussion to be continued long after Eren's story is over.
I will forever love Attack on Titan, and the absolute joy it gave me for years, and it will be sad to see this legendary series go. But all good things must come to an end, and I think this ending is satisfying enough for something so special.
If The Boys is usually chock full of superhero films parody, then this episode feels like a love letter to Logan (2017) and (the trailer version of) The New Mutants (2020). This is even more so with the casting of Shawn Ashmore, who played Iceman on X-Men, as Lamplighter.
It opens up with Homelander being sexually aroused by Stormfront while crushing the head of a thief in an alley. It recalls the scene back in Season 1 when Homelander casually rips through a gunman's chest for a show, but this time it's even more vulgar. As Homelander gets more aroused, his grip on the thief's head gets firmer, until it eventually crushes him into pieces. Then, fast forward to the end of the episode, we see Homelander confronting Stormfront, and her opening up to Homelander about her past, while she preaches of the importance of purity of their "race". They then continued to make out. There is something to be said here about indulgence in sexual and power fantasy.
This episode also starts to recenter the orientation. If in the first season we get to see the story progresses from the eyes of Hughie - the only seemingly sane person among the ragtag group of rebels - this episode shows how others see Hughie. Butcher, always an efficient, ruthless killer he is, is contrasted to Annie/Starlight who believes she retains her compassion even though she's a supe. Annie relentlessly tries to stop Butcher from senseless killing; though for Butcher she still inhibits the one thing he hate the most. "What you can't stand is in my blood, I'm a subhuman to you," Annie confronts Butcher. Yet when situation forced her to take extra measures, Annie sees herself doing something that only Butcher would do. "I'm not like you," she insists. However they then find what really makes them similar, but different at the same time: their attraction to Hughie.
Last, The Boys never stops to take a jab to corporatization of superhero. '"'A-Train' is a trademark. You're just another nobody from the South Side of Chicago" reminds me of the very early episodes in S1, when Homelander thought they were still bound by corporate rules (something that he seems to try to break free in this season).
[8.7/10] It's a stellar season premiere. I really enjoyed three themes in particular that flitted throughout the episode.
The first is the notion of homecoming. Arya beckons all the Freys to return to their family home in order to slaughter them. Jon returns the family homes to the survivng members of the northern families who betrayed him, and last but certainly not least, Dany returns to the place where she was born. There is a sacredness in return, in where a person is from, that GoT recognizes and plays around with.
The second is the notion of guilt, something that comes through in Arya's conversation with the run-of-the-mill soldiers she meets in the Riverlands. One of them speaks of hoping his wife had a baby girl, because girls take care of their fathers while boys go off to die in another man's war. There's a look on Arya's face, one that seems to reveal a lament that she'll never get to take care of her father, and that her victims may just as easily be lowborn who no more wanted to fight and die than Arya wanted to see her family killed.
There's a parallel with The Hound's portion of the episode there too, where he sees the corpses of the farmer and child he mugged back in Season 4, and can't help but feel guilt at the actions that if not caused, then at least contributed to their demise. This is a different Sandor Clegane, one who buries the people he did wrong, who believes in things, and even if he doesn't know the right words, gives them a eulogy that serves as an apology.
The third is the idea of perspective. Most of the players in the episode are concerned with who will sit on the Iron Throne. Jon is wrapped up in fighting the Night King. And Arya's on her rooaring rampage of revenge. But when Sam is caught up in the same struggle, the Archmaester (Jim Broadbent!) cautions perspective, that this too shall pass, and that there are certain things worth preserving, certain projects worth pursuing, apart from the worldly concerns that consume most men.
It's a rich episode, full of colorful scenes and potent themes. Exciting to have GoT back!
8.5/10. Blood of my blood. The title gives it away. One could say this every week about a show so centered around familial legacy, but this episode of Game of Thrones in particular circles around familial connections, between parents and children and the other ties of kin that pull us into place and break our hearts in the process. These people save us, help us, make us stronger, but they also have a unique capacity to wound us, to frustrate us, and to unravel us.
Nowhere does the episode explore all sides of this than more than Sam's return visit to Horn Hill, which proved to be the most magnificent slice of the episode, despite the smaller stakes and lack of major reveals. Much of the time on Game of Thrones is spent focused on the larger machinations of the plot. Even when we're not devoting time to the dragons or magic or other fantastical elements of the world, we're focused on the stakes of not just the individual characters, but on the titular game of thrones as different players vie for power, and on the existential threat coming from the north.
Despite this, Sam's visit home has the feeling of something apart. There's no magic at play. While his stop is intended as a respite for Gilly and Sam Jr. on Sam's way to the Citadel to earn his maester's chain and ostensibly help Jon, there's little larger relevance to it when it comes to the show's overarching story. Instead, it's a quiet character piece, one whose chief purpose is to tell us more about who Sam is, where he came from, and what he's become since he left home.
To that end, in many ways the scenes at Horn Hill feel more like a costume drama, something of a piece with Downton Abbey than with the swords and sorcery and political intrigue of business as usual on GoT. It's a pleasant departure, and it feels so unique because it puts the focus on something very rare within the world of Westeros, at least the part of it we're privy to -- an intact family, and the harshness and difficulties that can exist within them even when your kin are not being torn apart from one another by rivals and medieval honor.
So we see Sam embraced by his mother and sister. We see his Wildling bride, clearly not the type of highborn lady who might be expected to meet with their approval, welcomed as a daughter and a sister into their homes. We see little Sam Jr., held by his grandmother and promised the world, spoken of with love and told he'll one day be great like his father. In the beautiful open air of Horn Hill, family is a kind embrace and a welcome home.
And then they all sit at that table. And the silence and tension is thick. And Sam and his brother make small talk, and Gilly struggles with her knife and fork, and a perfectly cast Lord Randyll Tarly scowls at the head of the table. All of a sudden, a conflict between Sam's old family and his new one occurs. Lord Tarly barks and growls at his son, calls him fat, a disappointment, unworthy of his mother and his name. Sam looks down, confessing later that he worried his father would not take his erstwhile wife and child in. But Gilly will not stand for it. She's seen him be more than measure up as the kind of man his father claims he'll never be. He's defended Gilly and Sam from worse than any horror Lord Tarly is likely to face. But the head of House Tarly continues to debase his son, continues to tear him down in the way that only a father can. And at that table, family is judgment and pain and something to suck you back down into who you used to be.
Finally, Sam goes to say goodbye to Gilly and Sam Jr. He is a defeated man. He's capitulating to a father who hates him in the hopes of protecting the people he cares for. There was something so unbelievably endearing about he and Gilly's walk to dinner, like a pair of teenagers dressed to the nines, stumbling off to the prom like baby deer. They keep each other up, and now he feels he has to leave her. He kisses her, and walks out that door, and seems to be giving in to his father's assessment of his life, love, and worth.
But then he comes barreling back through the door and declares that he's taking Gilly and Sam with him to the Citadel. They are his loved ones now, and it's them who make him feel like the man he is, who enervate him to become stronger and do more rather than be resigned to the weakness Lord Tarly ascribed to his first born son. Sam takes House Tarly's valerian steel sword, claiming his birthright and his place as a Tarly worth of the honor. He brings his wife and his son and storms off to claim his own destiny, to forge his own kin apart from the man who degrades him. And here, family is strength; family is the future; and family is love and devotion once more.
But in King's Landing, choices that strain the relations between father and son do not move only in one direction. As Jamie leads the Tyrell army to the steps of the Sept, ready to take back Margaery and Loras and Lancel, he challenges the High Sparrow. The crowd jeers as the spears and shields are raised and conflict seems imminent. Then, the High Sparrow reveals his trump card. Out walks Tommen, Jamie's son, to announce a union between the Crown and the Faith.
Olenna, the grand dame of Game of Thrones announces in memorable fashion that they've been outflanked. The High Sparrow is craftier than anyone in the Red Keep imagined. He found how to get to the king -- through his mother and through his wife. And now the group that Cersei brought into the fold has taken over, has the ear of her son. Jamie is stripped of his command and sent off to Riverrun. Though Tommen does not wield the kind of hatred Lord Tarly does, he too has his kin before him and deems him unworthy, and though Jamie doesn't blame his son, he's clearly infuriated.
It's then that his sister calms his nerves. She too is aghast at their son having been swayed by the Sparrows, but she has a plan to retake control. As uncomfortable as it is to see, Jamie and Cersei are blood as well, and when they describe one another as the only two people in the world, it is an affirmation, to an extreme degree, that their family is all that matters.
And in one of the episode's most striking scenes, Arya actually seems to understand Cersei for just a moment. When she's prodded by the actress whom she admires to explain how she would change the stage-Cersei's response to her son's death, there's a moment of recognition. Arya says that Cersei loves her son more than anything, so she wouldn't just be sad, she would be angry and want to kill the people responsible. And as Arya witnessed her father killed in King's Landing and felt those same emotions, it's a stark moment of maturity and growth from Arya, an understanding that she and Cersei are not as different as they might seem, that they both felt strong connections to their family, to their loved ones, and were moved to shake the world on its axis in order to defend and avenge them.
The way the actress helped her reach that realization, to remember who she is and how she started on this journey, helps her to cast aside her mission. She is not no one. She is a Stark. And Starks are not murderers for hire. Her father taught her to be someone with honor, even if honor in Westeros is a fractured, fragile thing. Like Sam, she reclaims her sword, and with it, her birthright and heritage. She is not simply a girl; she is Arya Stark, and carries with her all that it means.
And even that is not the last of the familial bonds shown to be brought closer and exploited in "Blood of My Blood." A long absent Walder Frey admonishes his sons for failing to hold Riverrun. He summons Lord Edmure, his prisoner since the Red Wedding, in order to hold power over his father, The Blackfish. He too speaks of his legacy, of the way his children have disappointed him, and how they can use the connection between a father and son to defeat the Blackfish.
And the mother of dragons returns to her "son." Named after Dany's fallen husband, Drogon is indeed the blood of Targaryen blood. While the CGI is still a little shaky, only someone with that sort of bond of kinship can ride the back of a dragon. She is strengthened by this connection, made greater and more powerful by her "child." She tells the Dothraki who have followed her into these desert mountains that though Khals of the past have taken only a few bloodriders to protect their leader, she will not be so constrained. They will all be her bloodriders; they are all her children, and they are all the blood of her blood.
Finally, when Bran Stark seems done for, when the wights are about to engulf him and Meera and extinguish the fire they have begun, a mysterious cloaked figure emerges, wielding a fire and a scythe and defeating the undead warriors in impressive fashion. After he takes them to safety, he has Bran drink the blood of his kill to fortify himself. And he reveals that he too is the blood of Bran's blood. He is Benjen Stark, Bran's Uncle, who has been saved and turned by the Children and called to be the latest of Bran's protectors. Unseen since the first episode of the show, Benjen is a welcome return, who shows that, as Arya demonstrated, the blood of the Starks still flows across the land, even if it's threatening to freeze.
For the first time in forever, it feels as though the pieces are falling into place as we moved toward the end game for Game of Thrones. Dany wonders who would have the ships she needs to take the Seven Kingdoms just as Yara and Theon are heading her way with a fleet of them. Benjen once again shows the effect that fire has on the Wights as we see, halfway across the world, a queen ride a dragon. Long forgotten corners of Westeros, from Walder Frey, to Balon Greyjoy, to the Blackfish, emerge once more poised to make their impact on the major stories of this world. Jon and Sansa are poised to rally their allies to retake Winterfell, Arya is ready to return to her former mission, and Bran has been reunited with his family as more of the ever-expanding world of Game of Thrones starts to come to a head.
And in the midst of all this, we are reminded that from the nation-altering strife of the king and his parents, to the simple, sweet moments between a disowned son who hopes to do better by his own adopted child, these events are shaped by families great and small. There is no doubt much more blood to be spilled in the game of thrones, but its current pulls each of the players across their great land, and makes them stronger, more devoted, more certain, more powerful, and helps to clarify who they are and where they belong within it.
I love this show, and am writing this because I care about it so much. Along with many other people in this thread, I had some issues with story decisions made in this episode. Killing all the white walkers makes no sense to me, and here are the reasons...
Other than the White Walkers, there were a few other points I had...
I loved the tension through the whole episode. Gave some spots to recoup and recharge. The light from the Dothraki swords going out was a great spectacle. Felt very Helms Deep. It was truly an amazing production. The music, the action, the pauses between fights. So well done. However, the episode's decision to ignore all of what the series built up since the beginning felt like lazy writing, and didn't really feel like what Game of Thrones has been.
[10.0/10] I owe The Walking Dead something of an apology. When we met the new closed off Michonne after the six-year time jump, I naturally assumed it was because she’d lost Rick. After all, it was the last thing we saw before the series’s big shift, and lord knows that for eight and a half season, this show had the propensity to treat Rick Grimes like the center of the universe. Why should his absence from it change that?
And in some ways, “Scars” is about Rick’s absence, his hopes for Alexandria and his family, and the hole he left in the lives of the loved ones who survived him. But it’s just as much about the loss of Carl, and his dreams for the people he cared about and the place he called home. And while he’s never mentioned by name, it’s just as much about Michonne’s first son Andre, who died when the world fell. Because more than mourning the show’s former main character, this episode is about parenthood, about the balance between protecting the little lives that mean the most to you at all costs, but also about realizing that they are people, people who, like you, may have minds and thoughts of their own.
And it is about love, an all-powering love that causes parents to take the biggest risk, the strictest measures, to look after the people, especially the children who depend on them. But also a love that stands as a beacon against sealing oneself off from others, about closing ranks and not looking after others because you worry the risks are too great. It is one of the most harrowing, and yet heartening episodes of The Walking Dead so far, and a serious contender for the series’s best episode yet.
Part of that comes from the structure of the episode. Half of it is set in the present, where Michonne reluctantly takes in the quartet that escaped from The Whisperers in the prior episode, and goes out in search of Judith after she leaves to help them. Half of it is set in the past -- a brief enough time after Rick’s disappearance that Michonne is visibly pregnant the whole time -- where Michonne had the experience that made her so hesitant to trust anyone and so committed to the idea for making Alexandria a place that looks after the people they care about rather than the utopia that Carl once envisioned.
The stories are so complimentary, giving you cause and effect in unison. The show knows how to slow-spin each of them, letting you see Michonne’s hesitance turn into acceptance in the present at the same time her hope curdles into protective exclusion in the past. There’s masterful mirroring, with Judith’s disappearance six years ago paralleling her running away in the present, and Michonne’s desperation to find her being equal in both time periods. It’s rare that any show, let alone The Walking Dead, is so apt at threading the needle between two different stories, meant to inform one another but move at their own pace. The construction alone makes this one notable.
But the visuals are just as breathtaking and tell the story. There’s the same parallelism, in haunting but powerfully symbolic tones as Michonne slays walkers to save Michonne in the present to spare us from witnessing her felling children during a dark incident in the past. There’s both scenic beauty and the signs of possibility and progress as Daryl and Judith are framed far away from our perspective amid spinning waterwheels and talk about what the “Li’l Asskicker” knows about the past and what she’s ignorant of. There’s fluid conviction in brutality in the movement of Michonne’s sword into her former best friend’s leg, and artistic focus on the titular scars that linger with the young and mature alike.
For all its faults, The Walking Dead has always been adept at creating memorable visuals, but it tops itself here, providing striking image after striking image that don’t just wow the eye, but which serve the symbolism, the themes, and the emotion of the moment at every turn.
While Michonne’s hints to Lydia to make herself scarce are telling, and any scene between Danai Gurira and Jeffrey Dean Morgan is charged, it’s the story set in the past that is both devastating and moving. The tale of Michonne finding her old best friend, Jocelyn, from before the world fell, only to not only be betrayed by her, but have her child stolen, more than accounts for why Michonne would start turtling, emotionally and communally, and is draped in such understandable emotion and tragedy that it cannot help but be affecting.
Some of that is just a product of Danai Gurira’s incredible talents as an actress, which are on full display here. If I imagine what I want a post-Rick version of The Walking Dead to look like, this is pretty much it. Something focused on Michonne and Daryl on the one hand, and Carol and Ezekiel on the other, with concerns about the next generation taking center stage. But Gurira sells that struggle and resolve at every turn. Her fear and panic when Judith is missing, her vulnerability and pain when she wants to be upfront with her daughter, her anger when Negan puts the onus on her, and the abject reluctance but painful necessity of turning her blade on children when her own child’s life is on the line.
Maybe putting children’s lives at stake is too easy. It’s hard not to feel for Michonne in her Anakin Skywalker moment with Jocelyn. But you see how it has particular relevance, particular emotional weight, for her, given the unimaginable pain she’s had from losing multiple children the lengths she would go to avoid losing another. “Scars” dramatizes that expertly, and Gurira delivers it perfectly, from the easily renewed camaraderie with an unexpected confidante, to the sense of betrayal when that friend turns Pied Piper, to the “anything but that” position that poor Michonne finds herself in to save Judith.
There’s legitimate creepiness, built slowly, to Jocelyn’s gang of lost boys and girls. There’s the branding, the threats to Michonne’s unborn child, the slow-spun terror that emerges when Michonne has to balance protecting the last vestige of her lost love, the innocents programmed to threaten her, and the little girl whom she couldn’t bear to lose. “Scars” creates a horrifying terrible dilemma, one that spotlights the core of who Michonne is, and the price she’s had to pay, the turns she’s had to make, to try to make sure nothing like this happens to a child ever again.
But “Scars” isn’t just about how Michonne got to where she is now. It’s about how she gets better, how she starts to recover from so much loss and so many hard choices. That changes is spurred by Judith, who carries on her brother’s spirit and Michonne’s determination. That sense of hope for tomorrow, of a love that means extending the circle, opening yourself up and sharing and trusting, because it’s how that love has a chance to grow and flourish. For so long, Michonne has been trying to protect Judith’s childhood, to let her live unburdened by all the ugliness of this world.
And yet, in the end, it’s Judith’s innocence, the same type of blank slate care and intuitive love that Jocelyn corrupted to ill ends, that let’s her understand the world as it could be, not just as it is. In “Scars”, The Walking Dead doesn't just deliver its most laudable message yet, it does so via two stories that complement each other perfectly, and deepens an already potent relationship with the remembrances of those lost and what they believed in. To be frank, you may as well end the series here, because I’m not sure where else there is to go, what more you could do to sum up the risks and hardships, but also the rewards and joys and spiritual growth that this show is capable of, than what we get right here.
[9.5 /10] Oh man, I love me a format bender! I’ve talked a little bit about how it feels like the show’s momentum has stalled out somewhat with the journey to Ba Sing Se. There doesn’t seem to be the same urgency to the quest that there was in Season 1, even as the quality of the show has markedly improved. But this is the perfect kind of episode to do in the midst of this lull, a series of quick-hit pieces that give nice character moments and mini-adventures.
Things start off nicely with Katara and Toph having a spa day together and running into a trio of mean girls afterward. There’s something cathartic about the two of them using their bending powers to humiliate the bullies. But what really makes this one nice is the way it not only builds the sometimes shaky friendship between the two of them, but reveals some of Toph’s personality and insecurity. There’s a clear sense that Toph’s personality is somewhat a reaction to her princess-like upbringing, but also a reaction to her disability – that she turned an insecurity into a source of strength and part of who she is, but it still tugs at her a bit deep down under the surface. Katara telling Toph that she’s pretty, even though Toph professes it doesn’t matter to her, is a nice moment of bonding, and despite her protestations, it clearly means a lot for her to here.
It packs a punch in just a little bit of time, which is also true for Zuko’s story. Watching the socially awkward kid go on a date with and endlessly patient girl is a treat. (I guess being handsome buys you a lot of slack in Ba Sing Se.) His stilted attempts to make small talk and cover up his Fire Nation past are quite amusing. But the real show comes when he lights up those lanterns for his date, showing that behind his icy exterior there’s a young man who cares about doing nice things for other people. He doesn’t want to give into his feelings in this moment, because he feels he has a destiny, something that means he can’t put down roots or make connections with others in a place like this, but as he tells his uncle, it’s nice to do have those feelings, and it may be one of the few times Zuko’s had that sort of human connection apart from his mother and uncle.
Much of the episode, however, is just interested in providing some fun adventure or humor rather than anything too too deep. Aang leaning into his love of animals and using his Avatar powers to make an shiny, new, impromptu zoo after the old one has fallen into squalor is a nice story about him playing Superman – helping out with every day things and not just saving the world. Similarly, it’s slight as all get out, but Sokka getting into a haiku rap battle with the teacher at a local school is just silly enough to work.
Even Momo’s story is mostly a Warner Bros.-esque caper. I’m always impressed when shows tell stories without dialogue, and while I wouldn’t want a full Momo-episode necessarily (his little interlude with the baby in Omashu recommends against it) watching him run afoul of some souped up alleycats, free them from the chopping block, and then get the first big hint of Appa is a tidy little tale that has a lot of fun and creative direction in it. (His dance is eminently gif worthy.) There’s even the hint of melancholy with Momo missing his big bison-y buddy, and the scene of him curling up in Appa’s footprint is especially sweet and sad.
But holy cow, nothing in the episode can top Iroh’s story in the sweet and sad department. While most of the characters in A:TLA took a while to grow on me, Iroh was one of the few who clicked right from the start. Whether it’s Mako’s delivery, or just the character’s Impish charms, there was always a nice blend of off-kilter wisdom but a well of deep feeling as well. This story was the perfect encapsulation of that. The way he goes around Ba Sing Se as a humble but caring traveler, looking out for everyone and everything, from plants to babies to schoolboys to muggers, is delightful.
You see his helpful bent, and the way he’s apt to help young boys of all ages. His song for the little baby is cute and his manner with this kid is adorable. Him getting into hijinks with some kids player earth-bending soccer is classic. And only Iroh could turn getting mugged into a teachable moment. The way he not only disarms his mugger with ease, but then bonds with him and encourages him to be a masseuse is wonderful.
But then, the scales fall. Iroh goes up to a tree, sets up a shrine to his deceased son, and sings the same song about a lost soldier boy, this time in tears. Suddenly, the reason for Iroh’s kindness, here and with Zuko, becomes much more clear. He wishes he could have helped his own son, to allow him to avoid such a fate. We know that Iroh was broken by this loss, that he might have beaten Ba Sing Se himself if such a devastating personal tragedy hadn’t cracked his spirit in twain.
But in the aftermath, Iroh reassembled himself into the kind, caring, avuncular caretaker we know, who has a connection to this world and its inhabitants deeper than anyone else we’ve seen. It’s a poignant moment, one that casts all his other guidance and care throughout the series into stark relief. That’s what these sorts of episodes do at their best. They don’t just cut the writers some slack by allowing them to write shorts rather than full episodes. Instead, they give you those powerful moments, the ones that are glancing, but which give you insight into who these people are, apart from larger story demands. As Iroh’s heart-rending moment up on that hill illustrates, sometimes those are the most affecting moments of all.
9.4/10. As this show has started to improve, I may need to start normalizing how I rate it a bit more. There's still a lot of filler episodes, but the show's impressed me with what it can do, to where giving it a high rating every time it puts out an above average episode is likely putting its ceiling too low. That said, this was a superb episode that gave us some great insight into both Aang and Prince Zuko, creating parallels and contrasts between them, even though it was mostly done in backstory.
I'm frankly kind of surprised that we got the dirt on both Aang and Zuko in the same episode. It seems like the sort of thing that the show would hold off for a season finale, maybe even the end of the series, but I liked getting to know more about the two of them here and now after enough of seeing their adventures to get to know each of them a bit, while not stretching things out too much.
What I like about Aang's story is that there's a certain Last Emperor flair to it, in that both feature a child striving to be childish thrust into a time of tumult where they're expected to be much more because of the times they were born into. I've also compared this show to Harry Potter before -- with its magical powers and world-building and trio of heroes facing a world-threatening big bad -- but this episode also makes that comparison more vivid by exploring something that franchise did with regularity -- the burden of being the chosen one.
After all, the fact that Aang has the weight of the world placed on his shoulders at the tender age of twelve is a little heartbreaking. We know him as this carefree kid, one who takes such joy in life through things like riding exotic creatures or playing "air scooter." To not only have that ripped away from him, to have the responsibility of being the avatar, but to have him rushed into that training because of a sense of impending danger among the monks makes his desire to run away sad but understandable.
But what I really loved about this episode is how it does the unexpected when juxtaposing Aang and Prince Zuko. The former has been portrayed as an innocent devoted to the good, while the latter has (with a few notable exceptions) been depicted as a pretty expectedly evil bad guy. In their backstories, however, we see that Aang couldn't handle the responsibility of caring for the many, that it was his responsibility to become the avatar to protect the world, and it was too much for him. By contrast, we see that Zuko was not an innately evil kid, but rather that he was punished and sent on this task for speaking up for innocent people who were going to be used as cannon fodder for the Fire Nation. Aang was too reluctant and anxious to defend his people, and Prince Zuko was too eager to protect his. That's what leads them to where each of them are today.
I like how it, again, complicates Prince Zuko. He is no longer a monolithic evil, but rather a naturally good kid with an abusive father, compelled by the horrible code of honor of the Fire Nation to go on what was thought to be an impossible task to get back in the good graces of the parent who disowned him. That's a complex motivation that make him unique as a character and gives him a rationale better than an "I'm fighting you because I'm the bad guy" fiat. What's more the glimpses we get of the Fire Lord (frickin' Mark Hamill!) emphasizes the cruelty Zuko faced, the place he grew up in and the experiences he had that both explain why he is the way he is, and give us hope for redemption for him.
It also makes Aang a little less pure, and a little more understandable. Learning that you are the reincarnation of the pseudo-prophet destined to protect the world is a lot to put on a kid who isn’t even a teenager yet. The episode does a nice job at showing how it changes his world, how the things that he enjoyed in life – playing games and being with his young friends, were taken away from him. His responsibility isolated him, and the threat that he would be taken away from the one person who had allowed him to remain a child, the monk who was his guardian, was enough to make him want to flee from having anything more taken away from him.
But what’s meaningful is that we see both Aang and Prince Zuko overcome their anxieties about their past. Aang feels guilt for what happened in the century since he was too afraid to face his destiny and froze himself beneath the water. And yet in the present, while the setup is a little contrived, he faces the same situation, but this time he sees Sokka and Katara holding onto Appa beneath the water, and he realizes he has something to fight for, using his Avatar powers to save them.
In the same storm, we see Prince Zuko, who in the beginning of the episode was parroting his father’s forceful lesson about how individual lives are inconsequential in the face of the Fire Nation’s goals, especially in relation to a task set by the Fire Lord himself, risk his own life to save that of one of his crewmen. It’s a sign that Fire Lord’s teachings haven’t poisoned him yet, that there is still the good kid who worried about the Fire Nation War Council sacrificing loyal but inexperienced recruits to win a battle. And he’s also willing to let the Avatar escape in order to preserve the safety of his crew, something that shows that goodness survives, and supersedes even his all-consuming quest to win back his father’s approval.
Both Aang and Prince Zuko reckon with their pasts, but emerge having made their peace and become able to move forward. Aang resolves not to be weighted by his past, believing, with Katara’s encouragement, that perhaps there’s a reason why he’s needed here now. And Prince Zuko shows that despite the trauma he experienced at the hands of his own Father, despite his devotion to finding the Avatar, there is an integrity to him, and sense in which the better parts of him may still be reclaimed. The protagonist and antagonist of this show are each deepened, not only by knowing where they came from and how they got here, but by seeing what they do in the here and now in the shadow of all that’s happened to them before.
Besides last week's, this is my favorite episode this season. I missed Negan so goddamn much. Listening to him talking about his wife and seeing him, damn, that's his weak spot. It was great.
I loved the Negan-Gabriel interactions so damn much. It had me engaged the entire time, glued to the screen. The more Negan, the better the episode is.
Getting to see the human side of Negan was fantastic. JDM was outstanding in the meeting. The scene when Simon was talking and he just kept on slamming Lucille on the table was so intense and menacing. It was really crazy. He really cares about people. And I've got to say it, killing people in the right time to save others, he's got a point in there, and he's fucking right about it.
I love how this episode was a turning point of who the bad guys are. We've always sided with Rick and his people but it was the same for Negan: re-made yourself to survive or die. It was the same for everyone and I loved how they depicted it this episode. I loved that even though they show Negan as a psychopath, he wants to protect the workers.
I saw the Daryl-Rick fight coming long ago, but I enjoyed it, nevertheless. In all honesty, I hope there's more moral conflict between them.
Is Gavin's "Jesus Christ" while walking out the door his new catchphrase? I loved it. It's exactly the same way I would've reacted, lol.
That ending, though. Could Gabriel have been bitten before and that's why he confessed to Negan? It would make sense considering his intro monologue. That would be an interesting twist but I guess it's simpler than that. He simply got sick because of the guts, even Negan said he knew people who got sick because of it.
In a world with Negan and I choose to hate Gregory. That asshole only got up when he heard the word sorghum.
"I wear a leather jacket, I have Lucille, and my nutsack is made steel". Gotta love Negan.
And after all the freaking garbage people have done and Rick goes straight up to them, probably to show them the photos he took of the Saviors? Screw them.
A helicopter! WTF? Own a helicopter, win the war.
[6.5/10] This one was a real disappointment for me. It's not like there aren't high points there. Arya's badassery is rousing, Theon and Jorah's deaths are meaningful and affecting, and everyone from The Hound to Tyrion and Sansa get moments to shine and develop as characters amid the tumult.
But this one is just underwhelming as the climax of the White Walker story. The fact that this existential threat, the one that Jon has been crusading about for ages, that we were teased with in the series' very first scene, is quelled by the acts of one character slaying one enemy is just unsatisfying as a conclusion. The episode does a nice job of making our heroes seem overmatched and failure seem imminent, but that just makes the "the king goes down, they all go down" solution feel that much cheaper. It also takes some of the wind out of the sails of the show's final three episodes, as a fight with Cersei and her very human army can't help but seem a little anticlimactic after fighting ice demons and zombies in a dragon-to-dragon battle.
It doesn't help that the fight was almost impossible to follow. From the darkness and murkiness of the image, to the superfast cuts between scenes and images, the whole "fog of war" thing became overdone, to where it was too easy to lose who was fighting what and where, as the battle became one giant hodgepodge. That sort of disorientation can work when done well and not overextended (see: The Battle of the Bastards"), but here it just became tough to even discern what was happening at various points.
It's not like this is a bad episode or anything. There's still cool character moments and some tense and thrilling scenes. But as the culmination of eight seasons of storytelling and build, it can't help but come off like less than what we, or at least I, was hoping for. Particularly for a show that's done battles as well as this one has, the "Battle of Winterfell" is middling as a skirmish, and meh as the capstone to the White Walker storyline that has been with the series since the beginning/ Again, it's not bad, but I had hoped, and frankly expected, much better.
[8.4/10] Another quality episode in this short season, which is always welcome. I liked the apparent theme of people seeing one another in an unvarnished fashion, recognizing them for who they are, for good and for ill. Lady Tyrell recognizes that Dany is a dragon, not a sheep (or a shark, for my fellow Futurama fans. Nymeria recognizes Arya as something familiar, but also very different than what she was the last time they were together. Sam sees Jorah as more than just a plague sufferer, but as the son of a man who saved his life. Missandei sees Grey Worm for the good man she loves, regardless of the abuses, physical and mental that he's suffered. And Theon is not so lucky, when Euron and the carnage around him reminds him that part of him is still Reek, and that part cannot be so easily escaped.
I also liked the political business in the episode. It's nice that the show had Dany confront Lord Varys about his hand in her assisination attempt and his shifting loyalties, but his response -- that he truest loyalty lies with the common people, because that's where he came from, and her retort -- that she values his advice but would rather he tell her if he thinks she's stepping out of line than plot behind her back -- works really well too. By the same token, the dichotomy of "listen to your advisors and strategize to gain loyalty" or "go your own way, come in dragons blazing, and just take over" presented to Dany is an interesting one. Last but not least, Cersei appealing to her countrymen's xenophobic impulses to gin up support is an interesting tack.
Overall, it was a well-done episode of the show, that ended with some good fireworks (both figurative and nigh-literal) and had a good sense of character exploration amid the plotting and storytelling that is setting all our heroes and villains on a collision course.
[9.2/10] Avatar: The Last Airbender has been scary before. There’s moments where our heroes are under threat or some strange new monster or power is after them, or some freaky thing called “the face dealer” is in play. But never before has the show been as downright creepy as it is here. “The Puppetmaster” plays like an episode of Tales from the Crypt, with a mystery, a friend turned tormentor, and a dark secret.
The very idea of bloodbenders, of someone who can control other life forms, be they animals or human beings, is intriguing and haunting in turn. The episode builds up to that nicely, with Hama initially taking water from plants, and seeming slightly unnerving in her presence before the big reveal. One of the things I like about Avatar is that it takes the natural nerd-y questions about these elemental powers and takes them to their logical, sometimes disturbing extremes, whether that’s Toph being able to bend metal or Hama being able to manipulate human beings filled with fluid.
But what I like about Hama is that the show doesn’t make her just an evil witch. For one thing, she is a link to Katara and Sokka’s history and tradition. She is, for all we know, the last water-bender from the southern water tribe. There is a sense of communion with her and Katara, a connection between them that Katara cannot forge with anyone else given the circumstances and what the Fire Nation did to their people. That immediately makes her reveals, her attacks, and her methods more damning and haunting – because she is, at least nominally, on the side of the good guys.
And yet what I love about Hama is that she’s basically Magneto from X-men (right down to breaking out of prison built to evade her powers using substance contained in a human being). She does terrible things and she has a binary, retributivist view of right and wrong that perpetuates the cycle of violence. Still, you absolutely understand who she is and what she does and why she is that way given what she’s been through and what’s been done to her. She’s seen the worst of the fire nation’s trespasses against her people; she’s seen the way they wiped out her brothers and sisters, and she has no forgiveness in her heart for them or anyone who bears their brand. She is a victim rounding up the descendants of her tormentors. That is horrifying, but complex.
It’s also unnerving because she tries, and arguably succeeds, in passing that legacy down to Katara. Hama is worried about the practices of her people dying out, and so works to teach bloodbending to Katara, to force her to use the techniques. The very sight of her controlling Aang and Sokka and using their bodies to attack Katara is creepy enough, and the same goes for the way she contorts Katara’s arm. But the real tragedy is that she forces Katara to use the bloodbending to stop her, passing this terrible mantle down to her in the process.
AtLA can be scary, but it can also be much deeper than that. “Puppetmaster” succeeds at telling a horror story as good as any that could be whispered around the sort of campfire at the beginning of the episode, but it grounds it in complicated notions of vengeance, legacy, and agency that take a horrifying thing and given it an unavoidable human dimension.
[9.5/10] If there's one thing I really appreciate about Avatar, it's the way it manages to balance world-building and character. One the one hand, this is such an important episode about understanding the world of the Four Nations and the hundred-year war. We learn what the world was like before the war started, we see the motivations behind its beginning, and we learn why Ozai's grandfather was so intent on neutralizing the avatar to make his waging of that war possible.
But it's also a character story, about two friends and de facto brothers whose lives took them on different paths. The reveal that Avatar Roku and Fire Lord Sozin were best friends is a pretty shocking revalation, but one that has power in the way the whole series up to this point has been founded on the way that these things are all connected, that the people and personalities of these conflicts are as important as the world-shaking consequences of them.
It also creates a sense of tragedy and betrayal to that living history. Roku died at the hands of his best friend, in the same of aspiration and ambition. They cared for one another, grew up together, and built friendships that exceed lifetimes, but in the end, after a long life lived, that fell apart. That is heart-rending, and yet it also gives us so much more complicated insight into the lives of an avatar and a fire lord.
But it doesn't stop there -- with the lessons extending to our heroes in the modern day. I love that Aang takes it as a sign that there can be powerful friendships that matter to an Avatar, and that there is good and bad regardless of affiliation. It underscores the importance of Team Avatar and is another step in the evolution of the series to where not every person in red is bad and not every person in green is good.
By the same token, I love the revelation that Zuko is descended from both Fire Lord Sozin and Avatar Roku, and that this generational intertia helps explain the conflict between good and bad within him. It's nicely and subtly represented by Roku riding the red dragon and Sozin riding the blue dragon, the same ones that appeared to Zuko in his fever dream. The fact that he receives the head-piece that belonged to both of these great grandfathers signifies the way he may unify these impulses, and realizes who he is as an heir to the throne.
The episode just does so much in such a short time, it's hard not to be impressed both at the multitude and variety of its accomplishments.
[4.2/10] You’ve stuck through a lot if you’re a Walking Dead fan who’s made it this far. As someone who watched that first fateful episode on Halloween night nearly eight (oh god) years ago, it’s easy to feel like in a weird way, you’re one of the survivors from the show. You stick things out, finding ways to go on, as more and more of your friends and acquaintances drop out, many resigned to the fact that things can never go back to how they were.
And I’m ever the optimist, always the one who, even when the show has a bad stretch, likes what TWD is trying to do, even if it can’t always get there. Make no mistake, the fact that we have a prestige-aiming, big budget, zombie show, that aims to make statements about humanity and society as much as it wants to deliver the latest gory scene of the week is no small thing. Even when it stumbles, I’m apt to cut it some slack for the boldness of what it’s trying to accomplish.
But everyone has a limit, and I’m not there just yet, but Season 8 has been a test. It’s been the first season of the show where I almost dread flipping on the T.V. to watch, not because I cannot take the gore, or because I’m affronted by the show’s willingness to depict evil, but because I’m just tired, tired of this show waxing and waning but not really moving.
It’s time for the Negan arc to end. For a long time the bead on the show was that it was “find a safe haven/haven gets destroyed/go out in search of a new one.” And there was a certain amount of truth to reducing the show to that formula. But the minute the Alexandria acclimation arc ended, and the Negan arc began in earnest, there was the promise that we were entering a new chapter of the show, one about ideas of community, about existential threats, about international relations through the lens of his zombie T.V. series, that felt like exciting new ground.
But now, it feels like the show, and by extension the audience, is just stuck in the mud. This season’s assault on The Sanctuary felt like the perfect prep for the culmination of the arc. It provides a good enough reason our heroes to get into gear, but also to wait a little while to fully confront and resolve the issues with The Saviors. I expected, perhaps naively, that we would see that confrontation this week.
And maybe, TWD will continue with it’s unorthodox season structure and instead we’ll get the finale of this arc in the first episode back from the break, as the the show’s done before. But “How It’s Gotta Be” doesn’t feel like that. “How It’s Gotta Be,” true to its name, feels like an affirmation that this is what the show is now -- a neverending fight against the same bat-wielding thug and his coterie of evil, if compelling henchman. And as much as I appreciate this show, as much for its continuing potential as its intermittent execution, I can’t help but wonder how long I want to stay signed up for that.
In the meantime, we’re left with a series that had the opportunity to put a big period at the end of this sentence, and instead turned it into a semicolon. The name of the game in “How It’s Gotta Be” is jumping around the map and checking in with the various good guy leaders and their bad guy counterparts.
So we have Maggie running into Simon on the road, who shoots her two-line lieutenant; gives her the new marching orders, and sends her back to The Hilltop. We have Gavin going to The Kingdom and reluctantly reading the subjects there the riot act, while Ezekiel tries to give himself up to get his people to safety. We have Aaron and Enid getting into a brief but deadly firefight with the denizens of Oceanside. We have Daryl, Tara, Rosita, and more running into Dwight going full quisling at the end of the battle. And we have Rick returning to Alexandria to find it being blown to smithereens by Negan himself.
Stitching all of these plotlines together doesn’t make “How It’s Gotta Be” feel epic; it makes it feel overlong and overstuffed. The episode never builds any momentum or coherence, just jumping from place to place and rubbing the audience’s nose in how these grand plans have turned to crap. I don’t always mind that sort of thing. The Walking Dead is a show that deals with harsh things, and sometimes that leads to harsh ends. But there’s a sense of wallowing here, of just trying to reset the clock so that we can do this same song and dance with Negan all over again, and the prospect of that is miserable.
So whether we’re watching Eugene take a half-step toward doing the much ballyhooed “right thing” despite allowing this whole backlash to happen, or watching Michonne lose her cool and hack and slash at one of her enemies, or watching the wall-smashing crowd debating whether or not it was their actions that led to this or watching Rick and Negan get into a contrived slugfest,, it all comes off like the ultimate running in place, going over the same old ground, with no end in sight.
And then there’s Carl. I’ve never had a particularly strong investment in Carl. He has his moments now and then, often when he’s dealing with his omnibus parental issues, but mostly he’s a prop, something for Rick or Michonne or someone else to worry about or fight for or have tender moments with to advance their character more than they advance his. It doesn’t help that the kid’s not really the best actor yet, so his attempts to seem steely or haunted or protective have trouble landing.
But for some reason, mostly his impending demise, Carl is the closest thing to a focal point of “How It’s Gotta Be.” He makes a stand against Negan and offers to sacrifice himself. He wanders around looking mostly blank but nominally in awe of his explosion-filled surroundings. And for some inexplicable reason, he’s in charge.
Has Carl ever really shown good leadership? Has he ever seemed posed to take over as a decisionmaker? Besides one failed attempt on Negan’s life, has he ever even seemed fully competent about much of anything? It strains credulity that hardened, battle-tested folks like Michonne or Daryl or Rosita would turn everything over to his uninspiring kid when the rubber meets the road. The show is giving Carl his final moment of glory, and it wants to try to make that meaningful, but it thrusts Carl into the spotlight as though he’s always belonged there rather than genuinely earning that, and it weakens and already sputtering episode considerably.
And yes, in the end, he has a walker bite on his torso.
I wish I could give a damn. I really do. Carl is one of those last remaining links to the beginning of the series. He is, while still something of a prop, that initial, animating impulse for Rick, the thought that helped him strive to get out and find his family despite the undead marauders and more human threats between him and them. He’s been the symbol of the future, the walking representation of what the future may hold if Rick can secure it. Carl meeting his end, in a nominally noble and brave way, while saving someone Rick refused to bother with, should feel momentous and tragic.
Instead, it’s just another brick in the wall. It’s just another character meeting their demise in a way that lacks any oomph beyond the momentary surprise that the show’s willing to pull the trigger, so to speak. Carl’s death isn’t out of nowhere; it’s something that the show, or at least the episode, sets up and draws out. That removes the shock, despite the plot armor Carl’s amassed over the years, but it doesn’t imbue the meaning. It’s another empty death for a mostly empty character that the show bends over backwards to try to inject some sentiment into too little too late.
Maybe that’s where I am with this show as a whole. There’s still parts of it that move me, characters I’m invested in, ideas that I connect with. But more and more, The Walking Dead is whittling those down, until all that’s left is a few worthy souls, some amazing zombie effects, and a husk of what used to be.
I’m not done with this show. I’ve come too far to stop now. But the survival of my interest, like the survival of so many characters, is increasingly precarious, unpleasant, and dull.
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.
