MSochist

Absolutely hilarious to me that the very goofy super entertaining openly melodramatic cowboy soap opera has become a culture war talking point for the kind of insufferably tedious people that spend all their time on Twitter virtue signaling about how much they hate virtue signaling instead of spending time with their grandkids or something.

Yellowstone is purely ridiculous in its plotting, completely removed from the reality of modern ranching in a microcosm and 'western' politics as a macrocosm, and incredibly fun because of it - especially Kelly Reilly and Wes Bentley who 100% realize what kind of show they are in and what kind of performances it needs - but good lord, the absolute irony of its most ardent and passionate fanboys who take it way too seriously being the kind of fake cowboys that the show itself considers its internal enemy is so delicious that it actually makes the show better in of itself. Newsflash, if you think Yellowstone is owning the libs or whatever I can guarantee you are closer to the try hard out of towners in the valley desperate for 'authenticity' and cosplaying in their cowboy hats than you are to the Duttons, the same way most people who think they are Ricks are really Jerrys.

The first three seasons are all good and get better the more over the top they get, but season four seems to be running out of steam, most likely because almost half of the running time was used as backdoor pilots for at least three spin offs which we all know is the signal of a show stretched too thin, but as long as they resist some of the more obvious pitfalls due to it catapulting into the mass audience it should stay solid.

For fans of Deadwood, Slim Cessna's Auto Club, and Passions.

This is an episode that cements something that's been bothering me this entire time. I'm not a fan of all the changes they've made to the relationship dynamics but these things are inevitable. But the thing that really bothered me is that Wednesday comes to this school and three nearly identical dudes are super into her, which in itself is fine. The problem is that contrary to what Xavier says here Wednesday gives absolutely zero indication that she's into any of them. So when the boys get upset that she isn't returning their affection I'm confused like why? She has given you nothing. The real problem is the framing of the show suggests they are right and Wednesday should be recognizing what she's doing to these poor guys. While I never saw Wednesday as an emotionally stunted child like they're clearly making here, Ortega has done a brilliant job of making Wednesday show absolutely zero affection for anyone or anything except the oppressed. She protects her brother. She protects her friends. She protects anyone who needs protection. But she couldn't care less about your romance neither rejecting nor accepting just completely apathetic.

For a show that keeps name checking patriarchy it's kinda weird that the show also wants to basically shame Wednesday for doing absolutely nothing in the deluded fantasies of white dudes that insist she's giving them signals.

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.

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).

[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.

[9.5/10] 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.

[8.1/10] Ahhh, it’s so great to be back in Avatar Land! Katara is still around! And she’s in the White Lotus Society! And she and Aang had three kids! And her son is the new Avatar’s airbending teacher! And he’s voiced by J.K. Simmons! And he has three kids of his own who seem to have Aang’s occasionally pestersome exuberance! And Toph has a daughter who’s tough as nails! And there’s whole squads of metal-benders now! And the four kingdoms have been unified into one united republic! To paraphrase Bart Simpson, “Overload! Excitement overload!”

But that’s just the stuff that ties into Avatar: The Last Airbender. What I really appreciate about The Legend of Korra’s first episode, is that it gives enough details and connections to its predecessor series to excite AtLA fans like me, but it’s still seems different and new and exciting and doing its own thing.

For one thing, Korra is not Aang. She is headstrong in a way that Aang isn’t really. Aang could be reckless and eager, but was rarely as bold and impulsive as Korra seems in the show’s opening installment. (I loved her “I’m the Avatar. Deal with it!” introduction.) Living in a more integrated society, she’s already mastered three of the four elements (earth, fire, and water). She’s very much of this time, not a relic of a century ago, but also very new to the ecosystem of Republic City.

That’s the great thing about the series premiere -- it’s familiar while still being novel. Korra’s quest isn’t as clear as Aang’s was in the early going. There’s no evil Firelord, no hunded years war, no step-by-step set of elements to master in time. There’s just one more element to learn, a complex city and society, and a young avatar who admits that she doesn’t really have a plan.

That’s wonderful! There’s such a sense of possibility to the series right out of the gate. I love the promise that Republic City holds. The world of Avatar has jumped several decades in the future, to where the vibe of the new metropolis is something approaching 1920s or 1930s New York. There are radios and cars and omnipresent dirigibles in the sky that mark this as something different than the feudal-type era depicted in AtLA.

There’s also just enough hints of bigger troubles in the city to whet one’s appetite for more. For one thing, I really like the notion that there’s a group out there that opposes all benders and views the use of their powers as a form of oppression. It’s a natural move for a franchise that’s always used its supernatural premise as a metaphor for societal issues. LoK introduces Republic City as a sort of utopia at first, with tall buildings and a buzz of activity, but quickly hints that not all’s well in the capital of the new republic forged by Aang and the rest of Team Avatar.

That comes through (and dovetails nicely with the anti-bender activists) when Korra breaks up a protection racket by a “Triad” gang of three guys who use their powers to harass a shopkeep. Korra, being the naturally protective and good avatar-in-training that she is, comes to their rescue, and the fact that these mobs exist, and that the cops arrest first and (under the auspices of Toph’s daughter) ask questions later, and that Tenzin says as much suggests that there are problems in Republic City despite its shiny exterior.

But what an exterior! It’s nice to see the world of Avatar depicted in beautiful HD. The elemental effects are just gorgeous, and there’s a fluidity to the way that Korra and others unleash their powers that even AtLA couldn’t always match. The animation seems to have stepped up a notch. At the same time, the design work is stellar. The bustling city at the center of the episode is remarkable and full of life, and everything from the statue of Aang in a nearby harbor to the glow of the underground quarters of the water tribe mark a distinctive, beautiful look for the whole place.

Of course, this being set in Avatar land, our hero has to answer the call to adventure. While the show belabors the passing of the torch idea with Katara a bit (who’s voiced by Eva Marie Saint of North by Northwest fame, it’s still feels true to the spirit of the franchise to have our hero set out despite being told not to. Katara’s polar bear dog (or is it some other hybrid) is a nicely cute animal sidekick in the proud tradition of Appa. And her misadventures in Republic City as a fish out of water make for a nice introduction to the new world.

There’s so much to unpack here, but really, that’s what makes “Welcome to Republic City” so exciting. There is just enough gestures toward the prior series to warm the hearts of those who watched Aang and company defeat Ozai. But it doesn’t feel like a rehash either, with the time jump and the change in circumstance inviting the devoted viewer to piece together what’s happened in the intervening seventy years and marvel at what’s to come.

I don’t know what I expected from the premiere of Legend of Korra exactly. Sequel series are tricky things. You have to feel of a piece with what came before without feeling derivative. “Welcome to Republic City” masters that balance beautifully. Korra feels fully formed and distinctive right out of the gate. The world of the New Republic seems ripe of exploration and new details just as the Four Kingdoms once did. And there is a new type of challenge, a new threat, new friends and foes to explore and discover.

We’ll see where Korra goes from here, whom she fights and whom she takes on as allies and where her journey to becoming the avatar and helping to realize Aang’s dream takes her. But for now, it’s more than enough to dive back into Avatar land, gawk at the new sights and developments that have unspooled in the last seven decades, and wait with enthusiasm for what’s yet to come.

[9.5/10] I just keep coming back to Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Star Wars with this show, and that is definitely not a bad thing. One of my favorite episodes of Buffy is “The Zeppo,” which focuses on the member of the gang without any magical powers or special knowledge and yet who still goes headlong into all these battles.

This was basically Sokka’s “Zeppo” and it was extraordinarily well done. Admittedly, some of the theme is a little rote -- the fact that someone has an untraditional way of doing things turns out to be an asset rather than a liability -- but it’s as effective as it is trite. I love the notion that presented with all these tasks -- calligraphy, landscape painting, rock arrangement, Sokka offers typically Sokka twists like smashing his face on the parchment, adding a rainbow, and building himself a little relaxation spot.

Naturally, in his final battle with the master swordsman training him, despite using those untraditional methods, it’s clear that Sokka picked up the lessons, finding ways to be distinctive as a swordsman, recognize his surroundings, and use the environment to his advantage. It’s straightforward, but set up well. Most people seek this master’s training fully of haughtiness and pride -- Sokka comes in feeling unworthy, but in that shows that he is willing to learn but also brings his own unique flair that gives him greater potential than anyone else.

I also love that he builds his own sword out of a damn meteorite. For any Star Wars fan, including those who watched Dave Filoni’s subsequent work after AtLA, the notion of a warrior in training constructing a unique sword that reflects them is a seminal moment. This episode does that right, with the meteorite representing Sokka’s own uniqueness well.

I also enjoyed Sokka’s back and forth with his master. Maybe it’s just that I recently watched Bridge to Terabithia where the voice actor for the master (Robert Patrick) also plays a father figure who eventually sees a young man’s potential despite his idiosyncrasies, but his turn as Piando really worked for me. By the same token, it may be my appreciation for Kill Bill (and it and AtLA share a certain affection and homage to old kung fu movies) but I am a sucker for these sorts of training vignettes.

But the parts away from Sokka’s journey were just as good. I laughed my head off at the rest of Team Avatar trying to cheer Sokka up and then feeling listless and lost without him. It’s a nice way to show how much they need him despite the fact that they’re all great benders. Without his map-reading, scheduling, outside the box thinking, and even his sarcastic aside, the Aang Gang is out of sorts, and that’s a nice way to show his importance to the group.

There’s even some nice parallels in the B-plot with Iroh working out silently in his sell while deceiving the guard into believing he’s a doddering old codger. I’m not sure I buy Iroh getting buff in a couple of days, but like Sokka becoming a semi-master swordsman in 72 hours or so, the training schedule of AtLA has always been a bit compressed, and I’m willing to cut it some slack and willing suspension of disbelief on that front.

But there’s a commonality between Iroh and Sokka the episode doesn’t belabor. Both are underestimated or underestimate themselves; both have a jocular bent and unorthodox styles, and yet both posses a great deal of power, a talent and uniqueness that makes them formidable in their chosen art. The fact that Sokka gets a white lotus tile to seal the connection is the perfect button to put on the story.

Overall, this was a lovely showcase for Sokka that told a compressed but effective story about what he brings to the table, and how indispensable people like he and Iroh are -- because they do things in ways nobody else would.

Game of Thrones might be too familiar, too expansive, to have the same force it once did. When a show's been on the air for five years, it's harder for it to surprise you; you know many more of its tricks, and you've seen much of what it's good and bad at. And Game of Thrones is good at a lot of things--humorous asides, daring rescues, and striking character moments--so that even when it's simply chugging along, it's still a very enjoyable show.

But for a season premiere, "The Red Woman" was underwhelming. It wasn't bad, mind you--there were plenty of exciting moments and interesting developments--but little to make you stand up and take notice of a series at the height of its powers moving toward the end game, save for perhaps one scene.

That scene is Brienne saving Sansa, and pledging fealty to her, while Podrick feeds his master's new lord the appropriate reciprocal words and Theon nods in approval. There's several things that make that moment stand out. There are real stakes to Sansa and Theon's attempt to escape from Winterfell, both from the hounds barking in the distance and their clear fatigue and stress from traipsing through the snow. There's genuine character development, in the cold giving the two of them reason to embrace, and Theon's attempt to sacrifice himself in order to save his near-sister. Brienne's daring rescue is a thrill, giving solid moments to Brienne, Podrick, and Theon, and having the action feel anything but gratuitous given what's at stake. The aftermath is triumphant, with Brienne finally fulfilling her oath, the poor, constantly embattled Sansa finally having a true protector, and their seconds each having a hand in the result.

But it also stands out because it's one of the few parts of "The Red Woman" where the story is moving inward rather than continuing to expand or running in place. While I'm sure there's much more to come in each of their stories, this is a major landmark in Brienne's quest to fulfill her promise to Catelyn Stark, to Sansa's endeavor to be safe and in charge of her own destiny, to Podrick's desire to help his master rather than hold her back, and to Theon's quest for redemption. Each of these story threads is tied together in one tremendous scene.

That stands out in comparison to the rest of the episode, which has some moments and scenes that are better than others, but for the most part, feels scattershot. A season premiere for a show like Game of Thrones is difficult, because as the series's plot has telescoped out to encompass so many different stories and characters, there's a sense that at the start of a new chapter, it has to check in with each of them (give or take a warg).

The result is something of a hodgepodge of tones and atmospheres and settings, most of them glancing, many of them pretty good, but few of them truly cohesive in any way. There's not necessarily anything wrong with that. Game of Thrones is a series known for its scope, and by definition that's going to require some jumping around, especially as a reintroduction to all of the ongoing conflicts. It just makes it hard to judge an individual episode like "The Red Woman" as anything other than the sum of its parts.

Three of those parts all stem from the aftermath of last season's adventure in Mereen. The best and most promising of them is Tyrion and Varys's journey through the streets of their new home. I could watch an episode of just the two of them bantering back and forth for an hour and be entertained, but "The Red Woman" uses Tyrion's attempt to get to know the place he intends to govern both to illustrate how he, unlike Varys, is not a man of the people however much he may try and care, and that a civil war is brewing in the contentious land they're trying to keep in order. The worst is Jora and Daario's little horse ride to find their queen, which does little other than repeat character beats we're already familiar with, remind the audience of Jora's cheesy stone infection, and move the rescue plot a few spaces forward.

Somewhere in the middle is Daenerys's encounter with another group of Dothraki. The journey to meet the new Khal is a bit silly and crude, but generally amusing, as Dany's captors appear to be the Dothraki answer to a pair of leads in Kevin Smith movie, and Dany's look of palpable discussion when listening to a conversation they don't think she can understand is perfect. That scene, and the ensuing one where the Khal declares his intentions to lie with her regardless of her wishes will no doubt launch a thousand thinkpieces, but each of them lean into a venerable idea when it comes to the mother of dragons -- the way she is at once attempting to project strength and power, but still quite vulnerable, uncertain, and even frightened at what fate might await her. Emilia Clark does a superb job of showing the many shades of her character as her fortunes wax and wane during her conversation with this new Khal. The promise to transport her to what sounds like the Dothraki homeland is a foreboding one, that threatens to add yet another spot on the map for the show's intro.

The least interesting of the stories in "The Red Woman" centered around the events of Dorne. There's something of a shock to the Sand Snakes' coup at the Dornish palace, but we barely know most of these people, so the impact is blunted. Admittedly, there's intrigue Dorne being ruled by someone who's directly antagonistic to the Lannisters, and to the idea that the people of Dorne resented their leaders and yearn to stand against those who hold sway over King's Landing, but there's more promise in the concept than in the execution thus far. (No pun intended.) Similarly, the hokiest two Sand Snakes taking out the Dornish Prince on the boat only served as a reminder of how pointless he was as a character and how annoying, dare I say Poochie-esque his assassins are.

That said, there was more meat on the bone in Cersei and Jamie's reunion. The excitement in Cersei's voice when she heard of a ship on the horizon and said her daughter's name, and the attendant way her expression slowly but surely fell when she saw the floating shroud heading toward her, and the grave look on her lover's face was devastating. The death of Joffrey brought Cersei to anger, to her most bitter and vindictive, but Marcella's death has a much different effect. She is, instead, simply crestfallen, brought as low as she imagined she could be, slowly but surely losing the most important things in her life. The idea that Marcella perishing is particularly devastating to Cersei because she saw her daughter as pure and good, and it made her feel better about herself and all she's wrought, is one that adds yet more depth to one of the show's most complex characters. Jamie's response that they are neither cursed nor bound by fate, but should respond to this horror by lashing out at those who brought it to their doorstep does more to warrant interest and excitement as to where the conflict with Dorne will lead than all the bloody coups and painful attempts at bon mots that preceded it.

The episode takes time to check in with the rest of those across Westeros and beyond. Arya's still blind and begging on the streets, being tested by Jaqen H'ghar in a bow-fight that seems headed toward a Karate Kid montage. Margaery Tyrell is still in prison, thoroughly cowed and shell shocked after her repeated encounters with her captors. The High Sparrow plays good cop/bad cop with her as she asks how her brother is, with little more than an ominous assurance for her to go on. And even Ramses has a brief moment of humanity, couched though it may be in his usual sadism, as he mourns the loss of the only lover who shared his deranged sensibilities, and feels the blowback from his father for how his extracurricular activities led to the loss of both Sansa and Theon, threatening both the Boltons' hold on Winterfell and Ramses' claim as his father's heir.

But the other major fireworks of "The Red Woman" take place at Castle Black. Ser Davos proves himself both for his kindness, his cunning, and his wits when he collects Jon Snow's dead body, brings in Ghost, and holes up with everyone in a storeroom before sending Edd to rally support among The Wildlings. Davos's dry wit carries the day in these scenes, that still take care to sweep across the desolate environment of The Watch and its guests.

At the same time, Thorne has an impressive moment defending himself in front of his fellow brothers after confessing to the murder of their Lord Commander. As I wrote in my discussion of the Season 5 finale, what makes Thorne's actions and his speech her interesting is that you believe he truly means what he says, that there's a certain noble impulse behind his choice even if it seems foolish or wrongheaded to the audience. Thorne's disdain for Jon Snow has been clear from the beginning, and he admits to the assembled that he had no love lost for the man. But there's something genuine when he says that he never disobeyed an order, that as harsh or self-important as he could be, his assassination, joined in with the other commanders, was about something bigger than him, a tradition and a brotherhood that he saw posed to be destroyed under Jon's care. I don't exactly admire the man, but I admire the show for making him more than the one-dimensional villain he occasionally devolved into in previous episodes.

Finally, there is the titular Red Woman. She sees Jon's dead body and has a moment of questioning. She saw him fighting and Winterfell in her vision, and yet there he lies, white as a stone. She promised Stannis that sacrificing his daughter would lead his side to victory against the Boltons. It becomes much more of a question, smoke monster or not, how much she has or had real power, and how much of her prophecies and persuasions are simply more of her admitted parlor tricks. Then, she undresses and reveals a much older, more withered woman, and the nature of her abilities is at once both more and less a question. It's a revelation, meant to be one of those trademark big moments in Game of Thrones, but for the time being, it just seems strange with little immediately obvious point at this juncture.

Perhaps it simply fits into what appears to be the animating principle for the rest of "The Red Woman" -- giving the audience just enough of a taste to rekindle their interest in the spiderwebbed plots that stretch across Westeros, while pointing us in the direction the balance of the season will follow. The episode feels more like a grand reintroduction, a preview almost, for what's to come than a unified story all it's own, and familiarity with the shape of the series' arcs takes some of the thrill away from events like that closing twist. But it's enough to keep us talking, and wondering, and tuning in next week, so I suppose it'll do just fine.

[7.8/10] Don’t look now, but The Walking Dead is three-for-three on the season so far. And these episodes haven’t just been good. They’ve been intimate, challenging, introspective about life after the apocalypse in a way we’ve only seen in fits and starts before. As I’ve said before, I’m not naive enough to expect it to last, but I’ll take it.

“One More” has the quality of an old short story, one that, of course, gains added resonance given what we know about Gabriel and Aaron from past adventures, but which could frankly work as a standalone T.V. movie about two random survivors contemplating good and evil in the ashes of the world. It’s a refreshing approach from the show, and I hope they stick with it.

I’ll admit, I don’t care a lot about Gabriel or Aaron despite how long they’ve been with the show at this point. They’ve rarely been in focus and frankly feel more like living character sheets than actual characters. But this episode breathes some real life into them. In the early portions especially, you feel their exhaustion and desperation, as they hit site after site in the hopes of finding food to help feed their people, and instead only find images of death.

There's a lot of potent symbolism in this one. The most obvious is the image of blood splattering on flowers, a contrast between the beauty of nature and the harshness of the new world that represents the weighing of benevolence and cruelty that takes place here. There’s also a number of skeletons in poses that suggest families huddling together and dying, a constant reminder of the costs of this new order to two men with daughters they’d like to see again and forge a world better than this one. There’s a sense of how or why someone could hold onto hope or faith in the face of such imagery.

“One More” makes our two protagonists here (with Gabe taking the bigger role) avatars for those different ideas. Aaron wants to believe in the potential for a better world, that there is still kindness and mercy worth cultivating in this place because it’ll be needed when things get back to something approaching normal. Gabriel, ironically, is a cynic, who doesn’t think things will ever get back to normal and who, deep down, seems to believe that lethal pragmatism and matter-of-fact determinations are the only real orders of the day.

I like the first half of the episode better than the second, because it’s just the two of them reacting to different things, good and bad, in the world, in ways that reveal that perspective. There’s some well-staged set pieces that evince their sense of exhaustion and frustration at how fruitless this mission has been, and the wear on them from having to do so much killing, even if it’s just for walkers.

But there’s also a moment of relief for them, when they stumble their way into dinner and fancy drinks. They feel more human in these moments, letting their guards down, having the chance to relax, to scoff at the materialism of the world before the fall, to nab toys for their kids and play cards and sit in comfy chairs for once.

There’s also a chance for Gabriel to give a stunning monologue about his mentor, a man of the cloth who didn’t believe in doctrine so much as he believed in being with people, speaking from the heart, connecting with them at their level to give them ease. You can hear the way Gabriel admires the man with every word he utters and feels like he falls short in following his example.

He gets a chance to try to do that in the second half, which I liked less but still appreciated. It turns out that their shelter for the night isn’t an abandoned outpost, but rather one man’s hideout. The man, named Maize (and played by Robert Patrick) is incensed that these interlopers killed his boar and drank his whiskey, and so decides to play a sick game. He forces Gabriel and Aaron to play a version of Russian Roulette where each has to decide whether to point the gun at themselves or one another.

His aim is to try to show that all that’s left are murderers and thieves, to show that when the chips are down, people will turn on one another to save themselves, the way his brother did to him. It’s a tense sequence, with some good acting from all involved. But it feels like such a contrived, theatrical scenario, which lessens its impact.

There’s some power in Gabriel and Aaron proving him wrong, not just by choosing to turn the gun on themselves even when they believe the bullet’s in the chamber, but through Gabriel seeming to live up to his mentor’s model, speaking his heart to Maize and convincing him that there’s is still light in the world, that he can join their community and find a better way. The form is semi-novel, but it’s a pitch we’ve seen our heroes make in tons of situations when confronted with amoral or brutally cynical adversaries.

What is unique, though, is that it’s all an act. When Maize lets his guard down, Gabriel clobbers him with Aaron’s arm. Gabriel had preached the word and gotten through to his attacker, and seemingly Aaron for that matter, but he didn’t believe it, or at least didn’t believe that someone who killed his own brother deserved that sort of grace. (Which, hey, if you’ve read the story of Cain and Abel, isn’t a biblically inconsistent approach, I suppose!). There’s a bitter but potent irony to that.

The capper is that they find the (twin!) brother stowed away in the building’s upper floor, clearly being imprisoned and tortured and forced to play similar games. And when they try to free him, he grabs a gun, looks at the wife and child he was forced to kill in another of those Saw-esque exercises, and kills himself, unable to live after everything he’s seen and done.

It’s dark, and I know folks complain about the grimness of the show sometimes. Hell, I have. But there’s something more personal and specific about this. It’s not just wanton death and cruelty on a wide scale. It’s meant as a testament to the shadows in the human soul, the people whose hearts have been blackened by the last ten years and may or may not be able to be redeemed. The biggest irony, of course, seems to be that in the moment, Gabriel does live up to his mentor’s legacy. He’s with Maize. He seems to persuade the wicked that it doesn’t have to be that way. Only to show that he buys into the very dogma that he was trying to talk his captor out of. It’s dark, but it’s a sort of personal darkness that is harder to take while also feeling more visceral and piercing than more blood and guts.

[9.0/10] I’ll admit, this one drags a bit in the early going, but by the time the gang hits the sewers, things pick up and they never let down until the very end. But let’s start out with what doesn’t work for me in the beginning.

For one thing, I still just don’t care about Jet. His was too middling an episode to build such a character relationship around, and his personality was so thin and generic that it’s hard for me to be too invested and his and Katara’s sparks. So from the outset, the episode was already operating at a deficit.

I also was not terribly on board with the whole hypnotism thing. As I said when they unveiled it earlier in the season, there’s no reason that should be a bridge too far in a show with ample magic of all stripes, but for whatever reason it just comes off as a cheesy element to add to the show. So all the efforts to discern whether Jet is manipulating them and to un-hypnotize him in the early going just seemed like too much for me.

Nevermind the fact that something like “focus on a raw emotion to cut through the brainwashing” is a big cliché in and of itself. That, coupled with the fact that Jet’s plight already seemed hacky to me meant I didn’t really connect with that part. Not to mention the fact that apparently Katara’s water-healing powers apparently extend to psycho-trauma now, which, sure, I guess, but it also seems like a bit too much.

At the same time, the episode really seemed to drag out the “Appa is lost” story, and I continued to have a certain amount of “when are we going to get to the fireworks factory?” syndrome with him. Aang posting flyers around town and running afoul of his handlers in the process is fine enough, but that stretched out narrative, combined with the Jet stuff, left me wanting the episode to get on with it already.

So why am I rating this one so highly? Because once the show did get on with it, it was pretty damn breathtaking.

Let’s get the easy stuff out of the way – it’s damn fine action. The fight with the Dai Lee is some of the most thrilling earthbending we’ve seen on the show. Between their raised platform combat, Toph’s mastery and deflection of their moves, and their funky moving rock hands, taking on Ba Sing Se’s secret ninja police in their natural element – a cave, made for some exciting physical (elemental?) conflict.

But then they do it – they redeem Jet. I still don’t know if it was worth that middling episode in Season 1, or all the time we’ve spent on him this season, but he gets one hell of a going away party here. As much as I rag on the hypnotism story there, there is something really creepy about the horde of Ju Dees all talking in unison. And that creepiness extends to Jet, whose pupil-dilated, “can’t reason with him” mania after Feng says the magic words is terrifying in its own right. Fighting someone you don’t want to hurt, who isn’t in control of their actions, is a venerable bit of storytelling, and it works well here.
Feng himself isn’t the best baddie. Bringing in Clancy Brown to basically do Chinese Lex Luthor isn’t an unreasonable idea, but he just seems like an uber-evil antagonist here without any depth or personality beyond not wanting our heroes to mess with the chokehold he has over the city. Still, he at least has a role in the story by taking out Jet in cruel fashion, and it leads to the “foolish boy[‘s]” best moment.

Despite my general disdain for Jet, the scene of his (possibly mortal) injury is an affecting one. It pays of Longshot’s silence by making it a big deal when he says that they’ll take care of Jet, and Team Avatar should get going. The life flashing before his eyes bit is still a little cheesy, but it’s well edited and adds a bit of oomph to that final frame. And while I initially questioned Toph’s abilities as a human lie-detector, it too had a great payoff when Jet reassures them that he’ll be fine, and Toph notes ruefully that he’s lying. That alone would elevate the episode, and I haven’t even gotten to Zuko yet!

Zuko’s story is perhaps his most powerful yet, when Iroh’s teamaking offers the two of them the chance for a better, quiet, hopefully peaceful life in Ba Sing Se. Zuko is concerned with his destiny, donning the blue spirit garb once again and stalking into the night when he sees a lost bison flyer and realizes the Avatar is nearby. He can’t resist, despite Iroh’s warnings and admonitions to consider what he’s doing.

It culminates in Zuko being the one to find Appa chained up in Feng’s dungeon, only to be confronted by his uncle once more. Iroh’s words are impactful, dressing down his nephew for freelancing and improvising, coming up with impulsive plans in the moment with no larger scheme that leave him scrambling or near-death. But more importantly, he tells Zuko to stop living and working for something he was told to want in his life, and to instead dig down deep and uncover what it is that he wants. It seems like a watershed moment for Zuko, one that leads him to cast aside the Blue Spirit, and make a choice that drives the last sequence of the episode.

Even after escaping from the lake, Team Avatar can’t outrun the Dai Lee. They are surrounded, and seem poised to be captured or worse. Is this the end of their humble journey?

Of course not! Mono flies into the sun and comes down with a freed Appa! It’s one of the most triumphant and earned scenes in the series so far, with all this time with the flying bison separated paying off in a big way. It gives the fluffy ruffian a chance to save his companions, and creates the perfect finish to the episode’s amazing third act.

The group’s excitement to see Appa is infectious and warm and everything you could want it to be. The final image of them, all sharing an embrace on top of their friendly steed once more, is more than heartening. The family is back together, as they should be.

“Lake Laogai” isn’t a perfect episode of Avatar. It takes a while to get going, it spends a bit too much time on setup, and much of it is focused on a character I don’t particularly care for. But when it kicks into high gear, it produces a thrilling, engrossing conclusion to the story told within the episode, and many stories that have been running through the season, and the series. It shows our heroes, reunited with a lost friend, at peace at last.

[6.5/10] You are never going to fully get away from “Is it right to kill?” when you’re telling a zombie apocalypse story. Part of the inherent trappings of the genre is forcing people to make life and death decisions outside the normal day-to-day. That’s part of what makes undead movies and T.V. shows both thrilling and thought-provoking, putting the viewer in the shoes of the characters and letting them wonder whether they would be saints or slayers in such a state of nature.

But my god, The Walking Dead has been exploring these issues for seven-going-on-eight seasons at this point, and while it hasn’t dug into every possible permutation of them, it’s come close. There’s some benefit to putting new characters into those situations, to have them vacillate between Heaven and Hell and try to figure out what the right way to life in these harsh environs is. But you can only lean into this sort of “that’s not who we are” back-and-forth for so long on a television show before it starts to become rote, no matter how relevant it may be.

“The Damned” tries to make up for how many times it pushes that well-worn button by turning most of the episode into an endless cavalcade of military assaults, firefights, and action. Director Rosemary Rodriguez and editor Evan Schrodek do a nice job of making the images on the screen visually compelling even if the episode’s dialogue and thematic material is lacking.

The episode balances five major escapades all centered around the same multi-pronged attack by the coalition of the Alexandrians, the Hilltoppers, and the Kingdom. It features Aaron leading a frontal assault against one Savior compound. It has Rick and Daryl sneaking in the back of the same compound in search of guns. It has Carol and Ezekiel hunting down one of Negan’s lieutenants who use a grenade to escape their initial attack and threatens to warn the others of what’s coming. It has Jesus and Tara executing a raid on the same communications building where our heroes first encountered a collection of Saviors, and it has Morgan stalking his way through the same building, running support.

That’s a lot for one episode to juggle, and while it feels overstuffed in terms of storylines at times, it never feels out of sync visually. Schrodek does well at jumping from one setting to another to create a sense of continuity with these sequences. And Rodriguez captures the organized chaos of these attacks happening all at once, whether in the form of the bullet-trading from Aaron (whose boyfriend is potentially a casualty), to the cold and methodical killings from Morgan, to the quieter but ultimately more raw encounter between Rick and an enemy. Given the repetitive notes the episode continues to hit, some of these events feel empty in purpose, but they’re always compelling when conveying the heart-pumping, fraught qualities of these skirmishes.

The problem is that the skirmishes lead to more of the usual dilemmas that our heroes have confronted time and time again to diminishing results. The most obvious of these happens when Tara and Jesus, mid-invasion, come across a Savior with his hands up and his pants wet, having locked himself in a closet. Tara and Jesus argue about what to do with him, with the former arguing that he could be a threat and wanting to take him out and the latter buying his sob story and wanting to spare him given his unarmed, hands-up state. I’m sure there’s some intended social commentary there, particularly that last part, but it’s trite for the show at this point, and it doesn’t help when the Savior uses the duo’s indecision to take Jesus’s gun and hold him hostage.

Naturally, the situation works out for Jesus and Tara, and Jesus ties the guy up rather than kill him after their escape, but not before plenty more back and forths about what separates their group from Negan’s and whether they should violate their principles to end this now. It’s the same debate we’ve seen a million times, with nothing new to add, beyond the idea that there’s some sort of little-mentioned disagreement between Rick and Maggie on this issue that will decide what happens when Jesus and Tara try this on a larger scale with a collection of Savior hostages from the compound.

The episode also dips into the same sort of material with Rick’s hunt for guns in a different Savior compound. He gets into a knock-down-drag-out brawl with a Savior on the top floor, chokes him out, and them improbably impales him on a nearby wall protrusion. This is pretty standard combat and mayhem for The Walking Dead at this point, but the twist comes when Rick takes a key off the guy and uses it to walk into a locked room where he expects to find a cache of guns. Instead, he finds a sleeping baby.

In fairness, Andrew Lincoln does a great job of selling the moment, with the sort of disbelief and denial that Rick, a father to his own little girl, would have to this sight, that could pierce through his determined demeanor and make him realize the horror of taking another parent away from their child. But something about the moment feels unearned for the show, like a cheap trick to remind us that the Saviors, craven as they are, are still human beings, rather than something that’s developed from story or character as with Dwight or other characters we’ve gotten glimpses of in The Sanctuary.

Rick being held at gunpoint by someone he met back in Atlanta, now aligned with The Saviors, has some promise for a “how far we’ve come” reflection, but even that ends on another cheesy cliffhanger and bit of schmuck bait for the show. As I’ve said before, I’m not very interested in the battle for Rick’s soul anymore, and this tack to bring more humanity into his pragmatism does little to change that.

“The Damned” also plays the same game with Morgan to a certain extent. He is still in something of a fog and a rage after what happened with his surrogate son last season, and has turned into a cold killing machine. As much as his story hits the same beats that we’ve been over with umpteen characters at this point, it’s still compelling because Lennie James is a good enough actor to carry it. Like Rick, he’s been with the show from the beginning, but unlike Rick, we haven’t seen enough of him to have watched him go through this transformation and untransformation and retransformation several times over, so there’s still some juice left in the idea.

That said, the show can’t help depositing in on-the-nose flashbacks to signify what Morgan is feeling when the situation as depicted and James’s performance tells the audience all it needs to know. He, like Rick, nearly kills someone he knows from before because of the fog of war and his discombobulated mindset, until he’s stopped via the same moral thought experiment Jesus and Tara are engaging in. Exploring Morgan experiencing his trauma anew after things went wrong last season is a worth goal, but delivering it in these terms is a misstep.

Even the one storyline in the episode that doesn’t play to the same “we are not them” business is a repeat. Ezekiel boasts to his charges about their undoubted success in their mission, while Carol offers skeptical glances and reserved but perturbed questions. The thrust of this plot is Ezekiel dropping his act to Carol for a minute and admitting that he’s trying to pump his people up, encourage them loudly and publicly even if he has his own doubts so that they don’t visualize failure. We played this game already when they first met, and putting it in a combat setting doesn’t change much, despite some nice work from Melissa McBride and Khary Payton.

I can tell you as a committed Simpsons fan that if any show goes on long enough, it’s inevitably going to start repeating itself. You can only come up with so many novel situations, so many new reactions, before you start remixing old ideas. But this isn’t just a familiar beat reemerging in an unfamiliar form. It’s the same, essential zombie apocalypse question being asked and answered over and over and over again. It’s natural, maybe even necessary, to wonder what the ethical line is in the face of a ruthless, mortal threat, but this is the hundredth mortal threat the survivors of The Walking Dead have faced, and until the show finds new ways to explore that idea, it’s just going to feel like old hat, no matter who’s questioning whom and whether to kill this week.

Really good episode and much better than the previous one. This episode was a nice build up for future events proving once again that the Whisperers are a worthy and smart enemy. Beta is a great character to watch and I hope we'll see more of him and preferably less of Alpha, who at this point is number one on my 'to kill off' list.
In all honesty though... both Alpha and Beta came close to death this episode. I understand why Lydia wouldn't want to kill her mother, after everything it is still her mother. Daryl was in no state to kill her and he was lucky that Alpha is a fan of games because she could've killed him with that shotgun at least twice. I also strongly feel that Carol should be the one to off Alpha once and for all.
Beta could've been killed by the neck-tattoo lady... she had him pinned down and could've used the element of surprise that she had to kill him. I don't understand why they are still so hesitant. They want to maintain a sense of humanity but when it comes to Alpha and Beta they should know better. When an intruder comes into the camp and kills people off left and right it seems fair play.

[6.2/10] Once again, I find myself liking the theme that The Walking Dead is going for, but not the way the show dramatizes it. There’s a really interesting story be told about the war for hearts and minds between our heroes and The Whisperers. Alpha has told her people that civilization and stability are a myth in this world. At Lydia’s behest, or by their own volition, different good guys try to win that war through showing the fruits of their progress: a world where you can have children, where you can have fresh baked bread and jam, where there is safety and security.

It’s a good pitch, but one that ultimately fails. The episode does a good job of toying with the audience on this front, showing both Gamma and the Whisperer captive seemingly intrigued and even entranced by these offerings, before ultimately rebuking them. But the twist, the thing that turns the heart of at least Gamma, is the realization that Alpha is a hypocrite and a liar. She preaches detachment and claims to have killed her own daughter out of a devotion to the cause, but in fact, kept her alive out of sentimental attachment. There’s a cynicism there, where you have a better shot at converting someone to your beliefs by showing the corruption of their leaders rather than the rightness of your ideas. (If only it could work that way in real life.)

Still, the results here are mostly underwhelming. The episode gilds the lily quite a bit with these points, and while there’s intriguing beats in the scenes where Carol and Daryl schmooze, torture, and interrogate their captive, or where Aaron tries to get through to Gamma, there’s also a lot of the usual overly blunt dialogue that underlines the intended points too hard. As usual, there’s some decent conflicts and moral conundrums, but the second the characters’ open their mouths to try to elucidate it, you get more eye-rolls than pathos.

This is also the Siddiq spotlight episode, and that’s a real mixed bag too. Once again, the show’s visuals and sound design and editing work are impeccable. The flashing images of Siddiq’s PTSD episodes are gripping and unsettling in the best way, and carry a lot of the weight in a way that other parts of the episode can’t. I even like what they’re going for here with the Tyler Durden-esque reveal that Dante was a Whisperer plant the whole time, as it recontextualizes a few things.

But it also feels like a pretty cheesy soap opera twist as presented. The episode does a good job of spoon-feeding us the reveal, but there’s something hard to put your finger on about it, a certain convenience, that tugs at the part of your brain that says, “this doesn't make any sense.” Maybe we’ll get a spotlight episode for Dante that will help things fall into place, but this seems less like the last piece of the puzzle and more something calculated to make the audience say “whoa!” regardless of how well and poorly things add up.

I’m also not really on board with the presentation of Siddiq’s struggles here. There’s a solid enough throughline of Siddiq feeling guilt for the people who died, as though he could have done more, and Dante’s reassurance that what happens in this community is to everyone’s credit and to everyone’s blame. But Avi Nash isn’t necessarily up to this and even the editing and visual flourishes start to feel like too much after a while. Nash is certainly doing a lot of acting, but that’s not necessarily good, as it makes a very human struggle seem more over the top than anything. And the whole “fall in the water” thing and rescue by Rosita is just the pits. (Though I did appreciate the setup and payoff of why everyone’s sick, and how it connects to Dante.)

Overall this is another TWD that aims high and grazes some interesting ideas, but stumbles in the execution.

[8.0/10] This is the first time we’ve had a confrontation between The Seven and Billy's Crew. That’s a big deal, even if we only get a stand-off with part of the team at any given time. For so long, they’ve mostly been moving in parallel, with Hughie and the rest working mostly in secret to expose the Supes, and The Seven dealing with their own issues outside of that, with the exception of Annie. So when the Anti-Supe Squad is trying to smuggle Mouse over to the CIA, and The Seven are trying to apprehend and kill him, it feels momentous.

And yet, that’s not the thing that jumps out to be about this one. Sure, the last twenty minutes or so are a thrill ride, but two moments stand out above it all.

One if the abject terror of Homeladner trying to get his son to fly. Good god, his casual disdain for the safety of and well-being of his kid and complete misunderstanding of who and what a father should be. It’s fascinating how he's trying to be the father he never had, but also sucks and is een dangerous at it, since he never had a good role model to follow. Homelander is toxic masculinity personified, and the way he menaces Becca, doesn’t care about what his son wants or his safety, and continues to low-key threaten a terrified Maeve is almost as scary as that poor kid being dropped twenty feet off a roof.

It doesn’t spur his powers, like Homelander hoped, but the asshole threatening his mom does. It’s interesting to see that anger brings out Ryan’s powers, in addition to his desire to defend the person he cares for the most in the world. Ryan seems like a good kid, despite Homelander’s B.S. claims that his mom’s raising him to be a “pussy”, and there’s hope that maybe the kid can be the antidote to his horrible father to protect the world, or at least his family, from the guy.

The other is Billy saving Hughie’s life. You feel for poor Hughie here. He’s at the end of his rope, ready to end it all, waiting for his “second wind”. My knowledge of Billy Joel isn’t too deep, but the show sets up his desperation as illustrated by the music video well enough. More to the point, Jack Quaid does a great job of showing how hollowed out Hughie is after all of this. He’s lost everything, including Starlight, and even when they expose Vought’s baby-dosing scheme, he can’t get the win. With so much shit to put up with, so many injustices, it's easy to wonder what the point is and give up. Billy’s rigid, self-centered assholery doesn’t help.

But Mother’s Milk does. He reads Billy the riot act, basically telling him that Hughie’s state of mind is a sign that Billy’s gone too far. After an episode full of giving the poor kid shit, it’s Billy who steps in to distract the Supes when STarlight’s forced to kill Hughie (or at least pretend like she’s going to) lest Homelander kill them both. It’s downright decent of him, and the hand Billy offers to Hughie is more than an admission of humility and need; it may be that second wind.

The rest of the episode is good too. I love the scenes with Kimiko and her brother. With just a few exchanges, we fully understand the depth of their relationship and connection in a visceral way, which makes it easy to feel Kimiko's fury when she wants to avenge her brother. Likewise, it’s nice to get more backstory on Kimiko. We find out that she stopped speaking when her parents were killed and she and her sibling improvised their sign language to get by. It’s another sign of their bond and a good explanation for why Kimikok can understand but can’t speak. That said, the business with Frenchie is starting to transcend “kindly big brother” and starting to veer into “creepy fetishizing” territory, so I hope they pull back a bit there.

I also feel bad for The Deep, which is not something I ever thought I’d say after the first episode. (And starlight’s reaction of disgust is the right one.) Him trying to make his big stand at the behest of the faux-Scientology organization goes predictably awry. The Anti-Supe Squad crashing a speedboat into his whale friend is gruesome but, as with so much of The Deep, darkly funny. When Homeladner patronizes him and calls his exposed gill disgusting, you feel sorry for the dope, his futile attempt at a return dashed and his personal progress in his self image demolished with one comment.

I also find Edgar’s role in all of this fascinating. It’s a big deal that the story of the Vought babies gets out. It’s what Hughie and the crew worked toward for so long. But it’s also not as simple as “story breaks/company dies.” Edgar’s move to a denial, and to distract the public by having The Seven kill a “super terrorist” is a terrible but intriguing move on the chess board, especially when Homelander plays along. Only, Homelander isn’t in it for Vought. After being rejected by his son, he’s convinced The Seven are his “real family” and is forcing a human connection (or trying to anyway) that he can’t achieve otherwise due to the abuse he suffered and his own resulting psychopathy.

But the heroes’ reaction to the news is fascinating. Maeve knows her dad’s full of shit. The Deep recounts his difficult childhood thinking he was going crazy from hearing fish tlak. Even Black Noir, the Supe we know the least about, cries at the news. And like The Deep, I’m shocked at how much I feel for A-Train, who covers for Starlight, but points out that the people who say money doesn’t matter are the people who grew up with money.

We don’t really see Stormfront’s reaction to the news beyond her usual persona, giving Homelander an attaboy but then stealing the kill and the spotlight from him. I’m still curious to know what her game is, since I don’t think she’s everything she seems. We do see her be brutal, in several ways. She treats collateral damage like it’s nothing, seemingly killing bystanders for fun or, at best, to alleviate mild annoyance. She uses a racial epithet as she kills Kimiko’s brother, suggesting her name isn’t a coincidence. And he doesn’t just kill him; she enjoys it and wants to see the light drain from his eyes. Stormfront appears to be a psychopath as well, but one primed to supplant Homelander if she, and her handlers can get away with it.

On the whole, a lot of major stuff going down here, which I appreciate in a genre that can drag out mystery boxes and plot points. Most importantly, this one nails two of the most important and telling scenes, with one outsized depiction of a family of abuse, and another of a shitheel making good for once.

Introducing Toph was the best thing Avatar: The Last Airbender ever did. While the main core trio is great on their own and they have a great rapport going, especially in this episode, Toph introduces an element the show was missing - a true foil to Aang. She is the opposite of Aang in pretty much every single way, and yet they compliment each other almost to a tee. She's sarcastic, feisty, loves to fight, and wickedly talented to the point where she basically has nothing else to learn. Aang is kind, naive, diplomatic, and has a lot to learn. It's this parallel that makes them both great characters to have around, especially with each other.

It helps that her introductory episode is so good. Her debut as a character is nigh perfect, and her showcase of her abilities one of the best visual things on the show so far. The wrestling parodies are equally hilarious in good measure, particularly The Boulder who is a laugh riot. I also like how contained the show remains in this particular episode, with the Fire Nation absent for the first time in the show's entire run - something that would benefit the show in the long run as it becomes more and more character centric.

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.

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.

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.

[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.