Peter J. Mello

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8

Oh no, we lost 11% of our energy reserves! Janeway's gotta give up coffee to save power, but using the holodeck is totally fine? (And apparently even more fine when that figure doubles.)

Convenient that Chakotay happens to have his medicine bundle even though his ship was destroyed in Caretaker, isn't it? I don't remember the Maquis crew members exactly getting a chance to salvage their belongings before that Kazon ship took their shuttle in the flank…

Based on the deck layout in Star Trek: Voyager: Elite Force, Neelix turns left out of the mess hall right into a dead-end when he's heading off to argue with Janeway. Turning left got him out of the shot faster, I guess.

Someone in effects should have checked the script. Those nucleonic beams were very much not parallel to the ship's central axis.

OK, nitpicks aside, I'm of two minds on this episode.

On the one hand, it does a lot of great work establishing elements of the series that I really do love (if only for nostalgic reasons, in some cases). We get a hint of the Doctor becoming more independent ("A hologram that programs himself…"). We get jokes about Neelix's cooking. Tom is already establishing himself as a holodeck wizard of sorts (even if he does write his female characters like a chauvinist).

But we also get some of the bullshit. The whole premise is just a bit hokey, and the Neelix/Kes relationship is all the more awkward when you start the series already knowing that she's two years old and will be dead by age ten. (That kiss? So uncomfortable.)

Still, Voyager was my first Trek show. I can't help but like it despite myself.

Over a decade since it was released, and Kill Bill still holds up as one of the best "I've been done wrong, and I shall have my revenge" sagas ever committed to celluloid. With the release of "KB: The Whole Bloody Affair", the viewer is able to enjoy the entire saga in one fell swoop if so desired. As a bonus, this 215 minute version adds some scenes either missing or only alluded to in the original edits.

First up, the opening Klingon proverb, "Revenge is a dish best served cold." is gone and is replaced with a dedication to the late director Kinji Fukasaku (Battle Royale). Then in the O-Ren anime sequence, which was already fairly gory, the young O-Ren's murder of yakuza boss Matsumoto is even bloodier, with a close-up of his stomach and intestines spilling out after she guts him like a hunter does an opening day deer. In the House Of Blue Leaves sword fight against the Crazy 88, which changed to black and white in the original after Beatrix rips out a henchman's eye, here, the entire battle is in shown in color, which amplifies the severity of the carnage with gallons of Karo and red dye number 40 as several dozen limbs are severed and the entire sound stage ends up looking like the vampire club scene in Blade. There are also several different angles and gory shots added into the sequence including a brief, earlier encounter with the young boy Beatrix ends up spanking with her sword. With that addition, her reaction at their second encounter pays off better.

There is also an additional scene with Beatrix and Bill's lawyer Sofie Fatale, which clarifies why she was so broken (if losing one arm wasn't bad enough) when Bill is consoling her in the hospital. And finally, as Beatrix enters Bill's house and finds out what happened to her daughter, its a much better reveal since that reveal hadn't been hinted at as in the original versions.

While recent rumors of a Kill Bill: Volume 3 have yet to be confirmed, there IS a potential path forward as set up in Volume 1. Seeing as Beatrix is hardly an innocent victim. She's an assassin who kills other assassins, including another killer turned mother, as she consolingly tells Vernita Green's little girl, "When you grow up, if you still feel raw about it, I'll be waiting." She says this knowing there yet may also come a time when she, too, may be taken to account for going beyond "justice", and "balancing the books" in favor of pure and simple revenge.

Uma has said she would work with Quentin Tarantino again if he wrote a great part. Maybe that part could be Kill Bill, Vol. 3. Tarantino has said he will retire after his tenth film and he has already made his ninth, "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood", which interestingly, did cast Thurman's daughter in an unspecified role. So what the future holds has yet to be written, but I for one, would look forward to revisiting the deadly viper assassin's world one more time.

I do like the show, but it's not Star Trek. If this was just a new sci-fi show that existed in its own universe, it would be incredible. However, the fact that they've tried to pass this off as Star Trek when it's clearly not sullies the experience.

If it wasn't already apparent, Paramount and CBS have no idea what made Star Trek great, and don't care either. The simple explanation is that the world of Star Trek is supposed to be optimistic; this is pessimistic. And I do enjoy pessimistic sci-fi, but there's so much of it, and to see one of the few optimistic sci-fi worlds turned into something pessimistic is a shame.

Fortunately, we now have The Orville, which is doing Star Trek better than anything has since Voyager ended in 2001.

The show is supposed to take place between Enterprise and TOS, but the technology is very different. For example, there are holograms everywhere. Why try to do a prequel again? Why not set this after Voyager? That would make a lot more sense, and they'd be able to add whatever technology they like, and not be constrained by existing continuity. Fortunately, it's not too late for the showrunners to say "hey, we made a mistake, this actually takes place X years after Voyager".

Last, they fucked up the Klingons. For almost 25 years, they had the look of the Klingons figured out perfectly. They're iconic. But this show (and the reboot movies) messed them up and made them look like generic sci-fi bad guys. What happened to their hair and beards? Also, the costumes are ridiculous, and their ship interiors look like they're made of coral. I do like the idea of having an albino Klingon though.

And I applaud their desire to use the Klingon language on the show, but it's pretty annoying having every Klingon scene subtitled. The previous shows used a common sci-fi conceit: the actors speak a language that the audience understands, but it's accepted that they're really speaking a different language. The viewer effectively has a universal translator so they can understand what's being said.

Also, it looks nothing like Star Trek. Once again, The Orville got that right, and this didn't.

All of that said, I do like the show. The characters are interesting (especially Doug Jones), I've enjoyed each episode, and I think the storyline is pretty interesting. But goddamn it, why did they have to try to make this Star Trek when it's not?

Um, Tom, why wait until "morning"? If the weather on the planet gets nasty at night, just take the shuttle down to the day side. Unless this orchid species is specific to one region, that is (which wasn't mentioned on screen).

Looks like there's some kind of tape mark on the biobed that Janeway asks Tuvix to sit on. The camera panning makes it hard to tell (motion, especially horizontal motion, tends to blur in TV-sourced video because of interlacing, and DVD encoding doesn't make it any better) but there's something orange on that bed and it isn't present on the other two. Perhaps it's a spacing marker for where Tom Wright should sit so the following effects shot (in which he disappears and is replaced by Ethan Phillips and Tim Russ) will work.

I'd also like to know why Neelix came out of the separation procedure wearing a Starfleet uniform, when he went in wearing one of his trademark patterned jackets. I won't go as far as to call it a goof, because the writers most likely had a reason for not putting him back in his original clothing. But one must wonder why the clothing was merged in the first place, if the orchid's symbiogenetic properties worked on a genetic level. Starfleet uniforms have no DNA, so far as we know, and ditto for Neelix's clothes.

Most people who watch this episode probably have a similar reaction: The premise is creepy, but the ethical dilemma that it creates is interesting. I find myself agreeing with @LeftHandedGuitarist once more regarding the actor chosen to play Tuvix: Tom Wright didn't feel like the best possible fit for the role, somehow, despite solid acting work that he clearly put in time with both Tim Russ and Ethan Phillips to develop around some of their characters' mannerisms.

As much as I disliked the setup, I'm honestly not sure how it could have been done better, except for maybe changing which two crew members were fused. No doubt Tuvok and Neelix were chosen because the show has spent two seasons up to this point building on how much Neelix annoys Tuvok, but they didn't make use of any of that. Tuvix is perfectly happy as the fusion of two men who didn't exactly get along. Janeway can't be fused, unless we want to give the moral dilemma to Chakotay (boring), but that still leaves over a dozen other possibilities to consider. I really don't know which of them would have been better, but I suspect the writers also really liked having that girls' chat between Kes and Janeway.

Ultimately I can't be too hard on this episode. It might have been interesting only in the latter half, but I think this was a defining episode for Janeway. Unlike @FinFan, I don't think this finished her as a character. Rather, it illustrates exactly the kind of person she is, and what lengths she'll go to when the people she cares about are threatened.

[7.5/10] I feel like there are two modes of Discovery: one where it aims to take a page out of classic Trek focused on problem-solving and geopolitics, and one where it aims to be a modern serialized drama with major turns and intense character beats.

In its final season, the show’s gotten pretty good at the former! “Eirgah” is, in many ways, all about finding unorthodox diplomatic solutions, understanding what even an alien enemy truly wants, using your resources -- not just technology, but people -- to reach a solution. And when it’s in that mode, it’s pretty darn good!

Sadly, even after five years of trying, it’s still not especially good at the latter. The ongoing race to find the Progenitors' technology is a yawn wrapped in dynamite. The breathless character relationships between Moll, L'ak, and Book are roundly uninvolving. And the attempts to turn every week into a high-stakes action movie rather than a measured, if heightened set of interactions between different peoples, continues to be unavailing.

Which is all to say that I love the initial diplomatic negotiations and internal considerations regarding the incoming Breen. On a basic narrative level, there are solid stakes. The Federation has L'ak. The Breen want him. L'ak’s people are known more for their reflexive decimation than their considered diplomacy, something multiple conversations remind us of. (Hello Deep Space Nine fans!) How to navigate the situation on that basis alone is tricky, which portends good things.

And then you have the pragmatic, the ethical, and the threat of apocalypse to manage. On a practical basis, L'ak might have important information Starfleet can use in the hunt for the Progenitor tech, and they certainly don’t want to hand a roadmap toward that kind of power over to the Breen. On a moral level, it’s against Federation principles to hand over someone to die, especially when they know L'ak wants nothing more to do with his people. And lurking in the background is the sight Burnham and Rayner had during the time travel adventures, of a Federation HQ destroyed by the Breen, laying out what could go wrong if this all, well, goes wrong.

What results is a tug of war. Do we attempt a peaceful solution here, as a pinch-hitting President T’Rina seems to suggest. Or do we bear down for battle because the Breen are brutes who can't be trusted, as Rayner suggests? And given the ticking clock and high stakes, can Burnham get the info she needs to help both the engagement with the Breen and the search for the Progenitor tech in time?

That's a great setup. It lays out dimensions of the problem that are practical, moral, and personal. It gives you a, dare I say, Deep Space Nine-esque quandary of whether to do the noble thing or the expedient thing with a serious threat hanging over your head. And it all requires reckoning with your own prejudices and principles to find a path forward. That is classic Trek.

I’ll admit, as much as I’ve loved Commander Rayner as an addition to Discovery, I have my qualms with the “Behind every bigot there’s a story of understandable trauma.” His xenophobic reaction to the prospect of dealing with the Breen is rightfully galling to T’Rina. But I do appreciate, from a storytelling perspective, that his skepticism is more than just garden variety prejudice. The idea that his people were brutally wiped out by the Breen, hence his prejudice against them, adds dimension to his sentiments. Rayner not letting those feelings, that hurt, get the best of him, and finding ways to contribute positively to the plan, are another sign of his growth.

Not for nothing, this may also be one of Michael Burnham’s finest hours, especially as a leader. As with “Face the Strange”, it’s her empathy and understanding that pay dividends here.

She doesn’t write off Rayner’s prejudices, instead speaking with him about his Breen experiences in a way that not only gives them the tools to better understand what these erstwhile aggressors want, but also brings Rayner back into the fold. And while her conversation with Moll and L'ak results in her nigh-magically divining what their deal is without them saying much, I’m willing to chalk it up to Michael being perceptive, and a commendable desire to gather as much info as possible before marching into a scary situation. That is real Starfleet stuff.

So is the payoff with the Breen. They are as brutish, intimidating, and curt as advertised. Their unreceptiveness to our heroes’ entreaties makes it that much more impressive when the good guys unleash their savvy. Understanding what L'ak means to Primarch Ruhn, as a bargaining chip in a political contest, and using what Rayner knows about a rival contender for the throne, gives the good guys the knowledge to bluff Ruhn and play his rivals against him to not only maintain the status quo, but earn a peaceful resolution to the crisis du jour. Again, classic Starfleet.

And if things had ended there, I think I would have been happy. Is the story a bit simple? Sure. But it requires both guile and understanding from all involved to pull off, the kind of careful navigation of interpersonal and geopolitical minefields that were the bread and butter of the Star Trek I grew up with.

Instead, from there, we dive first into wild turn and crazy fight land, which is the mode of Discovery I’ve grown the most exhausted with.

Thankfully, along the way, we get some interesting reflections of the same kind of lateral thinking and recognition of the value of friends and allies that Burnham models here. Tilly and Adira work to figure out what the inscription on the Betazoid scientist’s clue means, while Stamets teams up with Book to figure out what the composition of the metal base points to.

Both are nice little subplots. It’s a treat to see Tilly and Adira problem-solving together, with Tilly’s attaboy for Adira’s growing composure and confidence being particularly heartwarming. The fact that they have to go to Jet Reno to piece together clues toward an ancient library is a good excuse to enjoy some of Tig Notaro’s distinct energy, and to tantalize us with the prospect of a sci-fi Library of Alexandria that might hold the key to the next destination. (Hello Avatar: The Last Airbender fans!)

On the Stamets side of things, we get more hints that Stamets is putting incredible stock into “the mission” despite the threat of destruction, because he remains motivated to cement his legacy apart from the spore drive. His devotion and low-key desperation shine through, and his recognition that an empath like Book might be useful in decoding a clue left by a member of an empathic species is a nice way to show his own type of lateral thinking and put Book to good use.

The way the two halves come together, with Team Tilly’s discovery of the library which might be the source of the inscription, and Team Stamets coming up with its possible locations, until they harmonize their findings to point the way, is more classic Trek problem solving. As mystery box stories go, this is the step that feels the most earned and true to the show’s roots. It requires teamwork, intelligence, and creative thinking. What more can you ask for?

For the episode to end there, I guess.

Look, here’s the big problem -- I just don’t buy the Moll and L’ak corner of the show. Moll and L’ok having some timeless, unbreakable connection to one another? I don’t buy it. Book feeling like Moll is his last bit of family? I don’t buy it. Eve Harlow’s affected acting through of this? I don’t buy it.

It’s not like Discovery hasn’t tried to do the work here. We had a Moll/L’ak backstory episode. We’ve had plenty of scenes where Book tries to explain his connection to and feelings about Moll. It’s just that none of it’s been convincing. SO when you have the two smugglers blowing this whole thing up so they can be together, or Moll basically defecting to the Breen so that she can use the Progenitor tech to bring back L’ak from the dead, it’s not like I don’t believe it, but I don’t really care. It’s not piercing or convincing enough to warrant my emotional investment. Instead, these theoretically gigantic moments become instances of, “Well, this is happening, I guess.”

And of course, we depart from the classic Trekkian diplomacy and problem-solving to have a series of the same choppily-edited, mushy fist fights we’ve seen time and time again in Discovery. I don’t need to see Moll punching out Hugh, or getting into gun battles with Commander Nhan, where the show tries to spruce up a pretty dully-directed hour with some strange overhead shots. The combat has lost all impact given how often they go to that well.

Instead, we’re in overhyped melodrama land, where characters make emotional decisions founded on sentiments the show hasn’t really earned, with wild swings in fortune that require extended boardroom conversations to half-justify. Risking the Breen getting the Progenitor tech may make the season’s endgame more exciting, but it seems like a pretty foolish choice given what’s at stake.

That's the problem. Once Discovery is out of its “Let’s solve the problem du jour” mode, that allows it to follow the rhythm of old, it loses its spark. Once we’re back to trying to make hay out of uninteresting and unconvincing new characters, and feed the show’s overblown blockbuster season arc, the whole thing falls apart.

The most frustrating episodes of Discovery aren’t the installments that are outright bad. They’re the ones where you see the show’s potential, but that potential runs aground when the series falls back into its old habits.

This was my first episode of this show that I happened to catch. Some good dialog and acting, some not so much, and some of both that was unnecessarily difficult to understand due to a combination of speed-slurring accents, mumble acting, and very wide dynamic range audio mastering. It really wants to be a film, despite not quite knowing what to do with its own cameras or aspect ratio. I like the style it's going for, but it's not quite there. Really, quite uneven in ways that it doesn't have an excuse to be. Still, it's definitely better than anything "Trek" branded that we've had in over a decade.

This plot was executed better in Stargate SG-1. There, it didn't seem like an arbitrary hand wave to set up the moral conflict. Here, they explain nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's all a straight copy of the short story The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, which, incidentally, was read by DS9's Nana Visitor in one short story audiobook release. In SG-1, they gave a reason why it was necessary, whereas here it's just "we don't know, ~the ancestors~ made it". They also don't show (the writers didn't bother to come up with the inside of the mystery box) how or why "the machine" needed a child's brain, or—more importantly—what it even fucking does, and how that enables their quantum gobbledygook tech, which I am now convinced was nothing but headline-gleaning buzzword injection. That's almost JJ Abrams tier writing. Either they knew what they were ripping off, and didn't want to come up with the exact same explanation, or they read the short story and didn't bother coming up with one because they're incompetent writers.

The surrounding drama was nice, though, and it was cute seeing Lindy Booth, unexpectedly, in Star Trek.

Also, no, I can't let it go. She stupidly gets too close to the insurgent traitor, then gets grabbed and nearly gets her throat slit, but then the middle-aged dignitary chick maneuvers her way and out-Judos her palace guard. Looks like, not only is she a bad judge of loyalty, but also didn't bother training any of them how to fight (remember, he did just win a fight with every other guard along the way). This is heavy handed and perfunctory writing, and it makes it difficult to take it seriously, or to feel any real sense of tension when the writers just do whatever they want, anyway, and you can see their will in every action. It's the same shit every time, now. Everyone is an action hero, because other skills don't matter and make the character worthless and weak if they can't wrestle a trained guard or win a contest of strength against the bad guy. Thank, MCU.

I was worried when this started as it looked like was going to be an episode all about Neelix and his jealousy. It turns out that it is, but it's nowhere near as bad as I had feared. Tom and Neelix really needed to work their differences out, and in true cliched TV tradition they get stranded together. It becomes a prime example of how simplistic the writing on this show was, as the two of them bond over a baby and magically resolve all of their differences. You could argue that Trek in general operates like this, but Voyager somehow makes it much harder to stomach. Still, I'm really glad that the Neelix/Paris jealousy story is over.

It's also a shame that the alien baby puppet looks like a reject from that '90s TV show Dinosaurs.

I really appreciated the calmer moments of this one, such as Harry playing clarinet and the Doctor's discussion with Kes. Voyager was not one for really digging into characters, so when the moments occur I tend to enjoy them. I think this also wins the prize for the most insane camera shaking ever during the shuttle's crash landing. That was absolutely nuts.
Janeway's new hairdo is awesome.

I refuse to believe that a Bajoran earring is against Starfleet uniform regulations. Don't they have allowances for religious accessories? The United States military does, per DOD instruction 1300.17 (as of 2011), quoted in the Wikipedia article on religious symbolism in the U.S. military:

Jewelry with religious meaning or symbolism is also authorized, providing it meets the "neat, conservative, and discreet" requirement, and generally follows the rules for any jewelry that can be worn with a military uniform.
— https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?oldid=800839754#All_military_personnel:_apparel_and_grooming

(I tried to access the source as cited at the bottom of the article, but the target website has been restructured and the link no longer works as intended. I'm being lazy tonight, and I don't feel like tracking down wherever the original target has gotten to, so I'll just hope the quote used was accurate.)

The typical Bajoran earring is not particularly flamboyant, nor is it overly obtrusive. About the only theory I can come up with as to why Tuvok declared Gerron's earring to be against regulations is that Starfleet might consider it a personal hazard in the work environment, similar to how "dangly" jewelry or long hair worn "down" are often forbidden in places like scenic construction shops because they present a risk of entanglement with equipment and subsequent injury. (Out of universe, it could be that the writers simply couldn't think of any other way to have Tuvok antagonize Dalby by "picking on Gerron.")

The placement of Tuvok's combadge in relation to his backpack's left strap reminds me why wearing my badge replica is so frustrating if I need to carry anything with a strap.

Question for Tuvok: If you cleared deck thirteen of personnel for the evening, why is it that we see a pair of crewmen standing aside to let your group pass by them in the corridor just as you say, "The ten kilometers begin now"? You know, I'm just curious what your definition of "cleared" is. It seems to be different from mine.

Denis Villenueve. A solid lineup. A different take on first contact. I loved Sicario but went in expecting a cerebral epic sci-fi.

That was a mistake.

Good things:
- Some really nice visual scenes
- Interesting aliens Calligraphy aliens!
- Clear theme of communication is omnipresent
- A neat score that might be awesome in a different movie

Bad things:
- The acting
- The lack of emotional reaction to ALIENS! The students asking to turn on the TV, all of the main characters
- Lack of useful characters Only the aliens and Louise actually did anything the entire movie.
- Supporting characters are very stupid in an attempt to foil the main character slightly
- Very clumsy exposition. Genre-typical news reports, voice-overs, dumb characters asking stupid questions.
- Very slow pacing. This worked in parts of Sicario, but didn't work in this movie because there was no tension. The main characters never seemed remotely threatened.
- Lousie showing up at school thinking everyone will be there after aliens arrive and there's a state of emergency
- Why can't you translate alien language like you can translate Farsi. This is a paraphrase but in the spirit of what Colonel Weber was saying.
- Useless love interest when the costars have no chemistry.
- Ultrasecure military base lets someone steal a ton of explosives and put it in an ALIEN SPACECRAFT without anyone noticing.
- Many unbelievable plot points
- Poor dialogue Let's make a baby - real quote
- Poor handling of the major plot points Looking through time seems to undermine the fact that the aliens need help. Why did one have to die if they could see the future? Why did only one die when they were right next to each other?
- Very heavy handed moral messaging that didn't align with the rest of the movie.
- Why couldn't Ian also see into the future as he studied the language, or any of the others?

Overall extremely disappointing. I'm honestly surprised critics or general moviegoers like this. The premise was very good. It's a real shame the execution failed so miserably.

I've watched this series from day one and loved it until season 4. When season 5 started, with their major plot changes, I wanted to quit this show but this episode made me loathe this show to the point where I would literally beat up Martin for giving HBO the rights to change the story line this much. I'm personally disappointed with HBO for killing of such a lovable and adorable character in a way that it wasn't possible. Stannis would NEVER agree to such a thing (and if you remembered in the last episode, he turned down Melissandre without thinking twice). Why did the TV show drop in quality? I was ready to bear the fact that Lady Stoneheart wont be in the show (even tho she has a MAJOR influence in the books) but not this major flaw. Stannis is a weak man, unable to endure the seduction of a witch and the only thing that was able to cancel her manipulation was Shireen. For god's sake Selyse had second thoughts, the woman who hated her daughter more than anyone in the world but Stannis didn't, the man who showed so much love and pride in her daughter.

I'm rating this episode 1 because this is the last episode I will ever watch of Game of Thrones. I was able to survive "The Red Wedding" and Oberyn Martell because I knew this was coming but this... THIS... I'm disgusted.

EDIT: If the actress didn't wanna act in the series any more they (HBO) could have at least killed her via Ramsey Snow's 20 men sneak attack or something. This was utterly revolting. :/

On the first season, See presented and explored a post apocalyptic world where the civilization lost their ability to see. This concept opened up many interesting questions, but the series gradually degenerated into derivative storylines with weak writing ("I want to pray"). Nevertheless, I watched all the episodes on the merits of 3 characters: Boba Voss (always charismatic Jason Momoa), Tamacti Jun (bad ass Christian Camargo), and Maghra (beautiful Hera Hilmar) and expertly staged action sequences.

The second season pivots the series to Game of Thrones-style backdrop. Multiple factions and/or characters are vying to unite and rule the civilization: Edo Voss (recasted to Dave Bautista from Guardians of the Galaxy), Queen Kane, Maghra, and Harlan (fantastically played by Adrian Paul).

My favorite scene is the goodbye exchange between Baba and Kofun.

Baba: Kofun. Kofun. My son.
Listen to me.
Your and mother and I...
we raised you to be beautiful, not a warrior.
I don't want you to have to fight the way I had to.
I never imagined a life for you away from the Alkenny.
And I failed to prepare you.

Baba: After a touching farewell, he goes on a Ned Stark-style impossible mission to rescue his daughter Haniwa from his estranged and enemy brother Edo.

Wren: She tells Haniwa that while those who can see are not viewed as witches, Edo and his people will execute them. That begs the question. Edo employees a seeing child to find Baba, reinforcing Wren's discriminated victim arc. I am guessing she will turn to Haniwa's side.

Harlan: A great new addition to replace the best character, Tamacti Jun. He has shades of Little Finger, planting seeds into Maghra to betray Queen Kane (who is probably not as dumb and impulsive as she appears).

P.S. I don't like the new opening theme. Full orchestra score and busy graphics diminish the first season's atmospheric theme which perfectly encapsulated the series.

[9.0/10] It’s just supposed to be business. You come in. You sign the forms. You check the boxes. You pay the fine. You don’t get sentimental. There are practical reasons to do this thing, reasons that, coincidentally, involve your continued safety and freedom.

But then you look at the person standing across from you, a person whose joy or pain matters to you, and suddenly you can’t pretend that this is all just a ministerial act, just a necessary concession to the gods of bureaucracy or the legal system. Instead, it becomes something meaningful, something personal, that has an emotional import and connection that makes it more than just business as usual.

So yeah, Kim and Jimmy are married now. After fans reeled from last week’s cliffhanger, it turns out their union isn’t a last desperate act of mutual self-immolation or an impulse borne of bad family lessons. It’s a means of protection, so that if Kim is implicated in Jimmy’s lies once again, she can never be compelled to testify against him as her husband.

And yet, my favorite moment in an episode not short on great moments comes when the two of them face one another in some dingy courtroom, enduring the world’s least romantic wedding ceremony and, against all odds, they’re both moved by it. It’s an outstanding piece of acting from Bob Odenkirk and Rhea Seehorn, who hardly say a word in the scene, but whose faces and subtle changes in expression let slip that however much these two people themselves this wedding is a practicality, it is actually a fleeting moment of romantic transcendence for two people who, whatever their problems, do genuinely love one another.

It sets the tone for “JMM”, an episode where people try to keep things professional, detached, and calm, until it’s contrasted with something much more personal, much more piercing, that wins out.

That’s certainly true for Kim. The episode doesn't spare us the aftermath at Mesa Verde in the wreckage of Saul’s stunt last week. “JMM” involves Kim and Rich low-key groveling before a miffed Kevin Wachtell, all but ready to fire their firm. The partners do the respectful, deferential thing, evincing the sort of demeanor that’s expected between lawyers and their clients, and take responsibility for the failures that led to Wachtell and his company getting fleeced for hundreds of thousands of dollars by Saul. And all it gets them is a dismissive, perturbed kiss off from Kevin, along with the admonition that Kim can do better than her shady beau.

But after walking out the door, Kim decides that she won’t take that lying down. She barges her way back in and is frank with Kevin, about how she really feels, in a way her deferential act wasn’t. She tells him that time and again they advised him against every step that led down this path, and he rejected their advice and barged ahead. It’s not entirely true (or at least omits how much fuel Kim threw on the fire), but she challenges Kevin, approaches him candidly and directly and, most important of all, personally. He respects that and, with a terse but telling response that he’ll see her on Thursday, lets her know that she’s keeping the business.

That directness matters. It builds on a frankness, a realness, that Kevin respects in Kim far more than all the fancy degrees and smarty pants advisors he low-key loathes given his faux-blue collar roots. Truth and honesty gets to him in a way that the usual routine in this situation doesn't and wouldn’t.

There’s a similar contrast between the professional and the personal in Gus’s part of the episode. His first appearance in “JMM” is in a bland boardroom meeting, where fast food CEOs are golf clapping over quarterly percentage increases and plastically delighting over the unprecedented advent of spicy curly fries (which, in fairness, do look pretty tasty).

But the tenor of the conversation changes when we see Gus, Lydia (!), and Peter Schuler behind closed doors. Breaking Bad fans will remember Herr Schuler as the Madrigal exec who had an...unfortunate reaction to the DEA’s investigation. “JMM” plants the seeds for that fatalistic response to external pressure. Schuler is deep in the muck on this, helping to fund Gus’s operation and far enough into it to know and worry about the threat posed by Lalo and the cartel. He’s panicked over auditors, desperate not to get caught, and ready to throw in the towel.

That is, until Gus makes it personal. I don’t want to speculate too deeply about the friendship that Gus and Schuler share, but there’s a familiarity and intimacy to their interactions back at the hotel. Gus persuades his benefactor to stay in the fight by holding him by the arm, looking him (and by extension, the audience) in the eye, and calling back to a shared history together. It’s that gesture, that remembrance, that keeps Schuler mollified enough to give Gus a little more rope, a little more time, far removed from the practiced smiles of the boardroom.

It’s personal for his mole too. Nacho ends up helping Gus burn down one of his own restaurants, under orders from an imprisoned Lalo, to keep the pressure on for the Salamancas and to keep up appearances for Fring. It is, as always, a cool and cathartic sequence on this show, and Gus’s chicken slide grease explosion (which he cooly walks away from, naturally), is a visual highlight.

But for Nacho, however cool this may be, it is something he does not out of loyalty or anger or a sense of rivalry, but because it’s just his job. It’s the necessary evil to protect the thing he actually cares about -- his father. In his meeting with Mike, he tells his new handler that he wants out, that he wants to whisk his dad away somewhere that the cartel can’t get him, because the separation from his “career” and his family is getting thinner by the second.

At the same time, Mike is finding peace on that front. If it weren’t for Kim and Jimmy’s strange but endearing wedding, Mike’s interludes with his granddaughter and daughter-in-law would be the sweetest thing in the episode. He reads to his son’s little girl. He reminisces with Stacey about his boy’s elementary school age antics. And he tells her that he’s better, that he’s accepted what his professional situation is and doesn't want to fight it anymore. More than anyone in the show, Mike is able to find equilibrium by accepting the “hand he’s dealt” in his job, and enjoying the private, personal things that job (hopefully) exists far away and apart from.
He does, however, still have a job to do, and right now that means getting Lalo out of prison so that Gus can force him south of the border where it’s harder for Lalo to call the shots. (And hey, if it gives Gus a chance to take the guy out, all the better). That leads to Mike crossing paths with Saul for the first time in a long time, feeding Saul the dirt (which Mike himself created), to get Lalo out on bail and back to Mexico.

Jimmy is genuinely conflicted about it. As ready, willing, and able as he’s been to represent the, shall we say, less than reputable members of the community, becoming a “friend of the cartel” is a horse of a different color. He says as much to Kim in a heartening moment of honesty and candor between them. He thinks about the money, “ranch in Montana” money, but when she asks him if it’s what he wants, he says no. It’s about the thrill of the chase, and about making a life for and with the people he cares about with Jimmy, not necessarily the size of the bankroll. Money’s a means to an end, not an end unto itself for him.

Still, Mike shows up on his doorstep, notes a mysterious benefactor, and between that and the intimidation of a scary crime lord telling him it’s better to be in front of the judge than the cartel, he does what’s expected of him as a zealous advocate and professional. He uses the info that the prosecution’s star witness was coached by “some P.I.” to cast the judge’s ire on the state, and deploys a phony wife and family to show ties to the community. It works! Despite facing a murder charge, Lalo receives a bond and can afford it despite a hefty price tag.

But something’s eating at Jimmy through all of this. In contrast to the fake fiance and moppets he scares up to sway the judge, Jimmy looks across the aisle at the real family of the victim. He sees a poor kid’s mother crying in the courtroom, where he’s helping a cold blooded killer evade justice. Even when it’s done, he peaks at them from around a corner, with his reflection on the marble helping to represent the duality of him in this moment.

It’s too neat and clean to divide this man into Jimmy McGill and Saul Goodman. There’s elements of each in the other. But there’s always been a side of the man whose born initials are “JMM” that wants to win at any cost, and a side of him that genuinely cares for people and can feel their pain. There are so many exit ramps in Jimmy’s life, so many places where he could have changed directions and not become the shyster we met in Breaking Bad, and this moment, where the palpable, deeply personal pain felt by this poor family cuts through his typical mercenary craftiness is one of them.

But it’s not to be. Howard Hamlin intervenes, revokes his job offer, and calls Jimmy out for his recent antics with bowling balls and prostitutes and other schemes to mess with Howard’s life. To say that Saul reacts poorly is an understatement. He lashes out at Howard, accusing him of killing Chuck, declaring that a job at HHM is beneath him, loudly and publicly promoting himself as a god, whose stature and grandiosity are so great as to make Howard’s piddling little offer to him infinitesimal.

That’s the thing about Jimmy. He didn’t become a lawyer because of a supposed deep respect and admiration for the law like Chuck. He didn’t do it as a way out and a way forward like Kim. His reasons were always personal. He wanted to impress his brother. He wanted to make Chuck proud. His business life and his private wants were always mixed and matched.

Only here, that motivation has changed. There’s still good in Jimmy, the impulse to gaze at the mournful expressions of a victim’s loved ones and have it give him pause over whether he’s doing the right thing. But the polarity of the personal has changed for him. He’s no longer just in the legal business to earn Chuck’s respect or make a living or fund his dreams with Kim. Now he wants revenge, to show Chuck’s ghost, and every living manifestation of the people and institutions and norms that have made him feel “less than” and looked down upon his whole life that he’s better, and more important, bigger than everyone who once thought less of him.

For Jimmy it always starts out as business, as a transactional thing he does without real consideration. Then, time and again, he has that moment of pause, that moment of restraint, when he thinks about the emotional impact of his choices. But then, inevitably, his personal grievances, his perceived slights, the personal baggage he’s carried for so long, shoves him back toward being Saul Goodman. No deep look into someone’s eyes can change that, however much we might want it to.

This show need to stop trying so hard. I don't know how it gets so many things wrong so often. This kid talking about his podcast like it matters is just off.

Finally having a group meeting is one of the smartest things they've done. I really don't think they needed a traitor element in the first place but we'll see.

Also in pro news the kids are apparently transferring houses. Between mom and dad. Which does respect his fatherhood status even if it might mean complications for the kids.

Honestly this episode is much smarter than the last episode. Even with the cheesy podcast stuff.

Like this "Holy Grail" thing where everyone is like "yeaaahhh right". As if no one has ever used the "holy grail" to mean something important before.

and then just like that an episode that started off rocky, was going smoothly then nosedives ruining a 6/10 episode to 3-4/10 territory. Lady Cop blames an amnesiac for beating his wife when the guy can't even remember his name. As if that makes any sense. At the family house young Olive invites her new-Daddy home to eat dinner to cheer up her mom because children understand complex adult dynamics either 100% or 0% depending on the episode and when real daddy summoned by his son via text shows up real-Daddy and new-Daddy get into a fight over the dumbest thing ever. You're ADULTS. act like it. Even if you wanted to yell who gets into a fist fight? No wonder Jordan Peterson thinks he's a genius he's learning everything about manhood not from historical cultural myth but television. But just everything about that scene is stupid.

"It doesn't look like a happy reunion" - what? You literally just walked into the house mr "Who is this man and why is he in my house that I'm exiled from"

"You are the whole reason this family is messed up" - WHAT??!? The dude disappeared in an airplane. He didn't mess up his family. Someone else messed up his family. He's literally innocent in all of this.

Olive sucks. Olive sucks worst than her mother and her mother SUUUUUCKS. Everyone on this show sucks to a little degree. But good grief.

And we have the second episode with a couple cheating to get back together (You 1x07-08)

This episode like so many of this series had the potential to be solid. Ending it by having white guy do the podcast is silly. Except plot twist.. good plot twist it's an insurance policy something the podcast host is too dumb to understand. Then finally having other people's callings show up is brilliant. Everything about this ending is compelling enough to make me want to see what happens next. If only the middle didn't just suck donkey balls so frequently.

I have a bit of a mixed opinion about the show. It still looks nice. Perhaps a bit too clean (does Bronwyn really always looks like she's about to attend the Met Gala? All other peasants are wearing rags and she's sporting a clean and sexy dress. Really?). But that's apparently where the budget went to. I feel that they neglected characters and stories though. They jump from location to location but I'm not sure we learn all that much character-wise. And the best described character Galadriel is strange. I would even call her a bit childish and immature. Isn't she supposed to be wise, composed and clever? Although I know very little of the LotR lore, I always thought the elves don't behave like humble humans (the worst example of this was of course last episode's Baywatch-horse scene). I mean, I get it: the first season is used to introduce the various locations and characters. Given the sheer number of different locations and people that's a monumental task already and in this snail speed they need more episodes to create believable characters. Thus, I'm afraid, most time of the remainder of this season will also be allotted to this rather boring introduction. And boring it is: all the character building via dialogue is mediocre. Plus, over the course of the first season, they want us to show the slowly growing threat to this mostly very peaceful world. So they can't have too much action w/o the stakes having reached existential levels. I'm okay with that. They should take all the time needed to have a credible climax later, but surely this is another factor why this episode doesn't feel exciting.

Something is simply off. I watch this episode and I profoundly enjoy the locations, costumes, props, wigs and make-up, but the story just passes by. I don't really care too much. Why should I pay attention? It's very one-dimensional and very black and white. You know exactly who is good and who is bad and who will forge alliances with whom (after some initial reluctance). There's still some mysterious aspects left (primarily surrounding the orcs, their handler and the comet guy), but it's not really important to pay attention: Orcs are bad, the comet guy is good and he will help the elves and their allies eventually. I wouldn't be surprised if the essential parts of season one's story can be summarized in one short paragraph. And all the fantasy babble feels tailor-made to true fans of the LotR franchise - it's not made for people like me. It's just a bit dull and unsophisticated story telling with unnecessary pathos and it's way too dragged out. Tbh, this is totally in line with the movies in the LotR franchise.

[9.8/10] What an episode! It's hard to imagine an hour of television that could draw out the differences between Jimmy and Kim better than this one.

In the wake of Howard's death and all the sins she committed and enabled, Kim numbs herself in a colorless world of banal conversations and empty experiences. Everything about her day-to-date life is colorless and dull, resigning herself to a sort of limbo as both penance and protection from inflicting anymore wrongs on the world. And even there, she won't make any decisions, offer any opinions, as though she's afraid that making any choice will lead her down another bad road.

Until Gene intervenes, balks at her command to turn himself in, and tells her to do that if she's so affronted by what they did. And holy hell, she does! If there was ever an indicator of moral fortitude in the Gilliverse, it's that. The courage of your convictions it takes to have gotten away with it, lived years away from the worst things you've ever done, and still choose to return to the place where it happened and accept your punishment, legal, moral, or otherwise, is absolutely incredible. Rhea Seehorn kills it, especially as Kim comes crumbling apart on an airport shuttle, amid all the hard truths she set aside for so long coming back in one painful rush. It's a tribute to Seehorn, and to Kim, how pained and righteous Kim seems in willfully choosing to confess and suffer whatever fate comes down, unlike anyone else in Better Call Saul or Breaking Bad.

It makes her the polar opposite of Gene, who finds new depths of terribleness as the noose tightens around him. As he continues the robbery of the cancer-stricken man whose house he broke into in the last episode, he finds new lows. Even when this risky excess has worked out for him, he pushes things even further by stealing more luxury goods as time runs out. He nearly smashes in the guy's skull with an urn for his own dead pet. He bails on Jeff. And when Marion finds him out, he advances on her with such a physical threat, a dark echo of the kindness to senior citizens that once defined his legal career.

The contrast is clear. Kim will turn herself in even when she doesn't have to and has excuses and justifications she could offer. Gene resorts to ever more cruelty, fraud, and craven self-interest to save himself from facing any of the consequences he so richly deserves. Kim is right to tell Jesse Pinkman that Saul used to be good, when she knew him. The two of them will understand better than anyone else in this universe what it's like to attach yourself to someone who sheds everything that made them a decent human being. Jimmy lost the part of himself that was good, or kind, or noble, even amid his cons. But Kim held onto her moral convictions, and it's what makes her not just Jimmy's foil, but the honorable counterpoint to the awful person he became.

EDIT: Here's a link to my usual more in-depth review of the episode if anyone's interested -- https://thespool.net/reviews/better-call-saul-season-6-episode-12-recap/

Everyone keeps suggesting there is a paradox concerning the 5D future humans and their ability to save humanity in the past. It's really not a paradox at all. Everyone assumes humanity survived to ascend to the 5th dimension but how could humanity exist in the future if not for the actions of Cooper.. who was guided by future humans (begin endless loop).

Did anyone ever consider the other important character in the movie? Amelia Brand carried on with the rest of her mission (thanks to Cooper). I postulate that Brand used the human seeds as intended and set up a colony. A colony that would thrive and eventually evolve beyond human. Thus Earth is of little importance, and may have indeed died. These colonists, and the generations that followed, would have been told the story of a great man (Cooper) who saved them from extinction. With the ability to manipulate space-time, they would pay homage to their hero "God" by helping him in the past so he may fulfill the mission most important to him, to once again see his daughter. Plan B worked beautifully. But the 5d humans, having the power to bend space-time, decided there's no reason why Plan A had to fail.

[8.0/10] Easily the best episode of the series so far. I really enjoyed the glimpse we get of Will and Deanna -- happy enough that it feels like a nice grace note to their story in TNG, but with enough loss involved to make it something other than a wish-fulfillment happy ending for them.

But what I like even better is that this stop is more than just fanservice with some familiar faces. The show uses Picard's connection to his old officers, and Soji's budding bond with their daughter, to make the Riker family a bridge between Picard and Soji. Reminding Picard that he needs to be patient and kind to earn someone's trust and that fighting the good fight is what keeps him feeling alive, while Troi and Kestra show Soji that she has value regardless of whether she's "real" and that he can be trusted, is a really great way to use these cameos.

The Jurati/Raffi/Rios stuff back on La Sirena is a lot less successful. If nothing else, I appreciate the plot mechanics of Narek being able to track them using the pill Jurati takes in the flashback. But I'm still super confused as to the shape of Jurati's motivation here. I get that she's afraid of a Synth uprising thanks to the mindmeld, but why and how does that lead her to kill Maddox and what's her objective? It also feels a little dumb that Raffi and Rios don't really catch on. Still, there's intrigue in the idea that she's willing to go into a coma to try to detach herself from her Zhat Vash handlers now that she's having second thoughts.

The weirdest part of the episode is the Elnor/Hugh/Narissa stuff. The fight was pretty cool (even if I'm still tired of Narissa's hammy Bond villain routine), and the show piqued my interest with the quick rapport between Hugh and Elnor. But then why the hell did the show (seemingly) kill off Hugh five minutes later? It's another disappointing and abrupt end for a legacy character. (Justice for Hugh and Icheb!)

Still, the Picard/Soji/Riker family stuff is so good that it makes up for the other parts of the episode. Picard's scenes with each members of the family are great. His and Riker's dynamic in particular is so warm and familiar in the best way. And holy hell, Marina Sirtis gives her best performance in all of Star Trek here! The layers to her conversations with Picard and Soji are so good!

Overall, this one has its problems away from Nepenthe, but when it's at the Riker homestead, things are really good and nicely manage to make a feel-good TNG cameo into something more meaningful and relevant to this show's characters and the story at hand.

6.7/10. The idea of “Election Day pt. 1” is a great one. Taking the time before the election returns really kick into gear to explore the relationships between the characters, reflect on what come’s next, and show how many of these people, Josh especially, only have one mode and don’t know how to function when they’re not in it, is a canny choice for the lead up to the finish. The problem is that little of it is especially good, and much of it feels fairly scattershot.

The most prominent through line in the episode is that latter point – the idea that Josh and Bruno and the cadre of people who work for them have been so focused on election gamesmanship that they don’t know how to turn it off when there’s not much more to do. It’s a nice parallel when the episode shows the two of them freaking out about the same exit poll numbers that each swears can’t be right. And we get little details like Josh and Lou wanting fifteen different versions of Santos’s end-of-the-night speech to cover every possible contingency, Josh micromanaging the setup of the ballroom, and dealing with changes to the speech from the transition team.

The upshot is clear – all Josh knows is crisis, and when faced with a situation in which all these contingencies are already planned for and there’s nothing more to do, he tries to create one out of whole cloth because he can’t stand sitting on his hands. In a show that almost always has a Crisis of the Week, that’s a bold choice, and the most solid part of the episode. The problem is that the episode hits that same note over and over again without much variation or intrigue. Josh’s freak out toward the end of the episode is fine as an exclamation point on that theme, and his failed “inspire the troops speech” is a good signifier that he can only see more problems to fix, not successes to be proud of. But at some point you just want to say, “We get it! Josh can’t relax!”

Or maybe he can. After years, years of teasing it, The West Wing finally pulls the trigger on Josh and Donna. After a scene where every member of the Santos staff is basically paired off (and even Bruno is using his current position to hopefully get himself into another), the last two folks left in the room are Josh and Donna who, after so much fumfering around, get together.

So we do the awkward morning after thing. And it’s fine. To be fair, I don’t know how you pay something like this off – which the fans desperately wanted but which doesn’t make a lot of sense – in a satisfying way. But the development is kind of underwhelming, with the standard post-coital awkwardness and neither knowing how to approach their friendship or budding relationship afterward. There’s the occasional fun moment, like Donna telling Josh she already knows how he likes his coffee, but for the most part it feels like The West Wing briefly turned into an episode of Melrose Place with an odd amount of focus on everyone’s romantic lives.

After all, even “Congressman Casanova” and Helen Santos find a productive use of the first bit of time off they’ve had in weeks. We get a scene of Lou and Otto, where the Otto is a bit more sentimental about their dalliance than the prickly (and frankly pretty mean) Lou is about it. And, of course, we get another scene exploring the relationship between Will Bailey and Kate Harper. There’s the noteworthy reveal that Kate voted for Vinick, and I appreciate the show depicting the senior staff as not so monolithic in their political preferences, but for the most part, it falls into the same Melrose Place territory. Will talks about going off to run campaigns in California again, and Kate talks about sticking around to serve whoever the next president is, and the pair try to navigate the awkwardness of their undefined relationship, which is about to face a big transition.

That’s the other major thread in this slack tide episode – what comes next. The staff of the Santos campaign, the Vinick campaign, and the White House have poured their lives into something that basically comes to an end on this very day. Two-thirds of these folks are going to have to find something else to keep them busy not long after election day, and while most of this facet of the episode ends up feeling pretty meandering, it’s a nice note to hit for the characters at least.

That idea works best with Charlie and C.J. (who are, admittedly, two of my favorite characters on the show, which biases me). We haven’t seen Charlie in a while, and when we do, he’s pressuring C.J. to start looking at other jobs for when the Bartlet administration ends. She, of course, is still “living out the first line of [her] obituary” and doesn’t want to focus on anything beyond what’s in front of her. But then Charlie says something undeniably sweet when pressed on why he keeps pushing this – he admires her, and wherever she goes, he’d like to keep working for her. In an episode that spends so much time and energy on romance and relationships, the most heartwarming and compelling moment in this episode is one between colleagues, not lovers.

We also see Matt and Helen Santos thinking about what will happen tomorrow, whether their lives will, perhaps, go back to normal, albeit with a crushing loss to contend with, or whether they will change forever. After the hustle and bustle of the campaign, the thought of raking leaves in the backyard doesn’t sound so bad. And Bruno, who’s asked by Bob if he wants to go into business together, politely declines and says he’s done when this is over. Bruno’s not an old man, but you get the idea that he has a little more self-awareness than Josh about this. When he’s this close to the flame, he can’t help but stick his hand in the fire, and his only salve is getting himself the hell away from the conflagration.

There’s a lot of interesting ideas in “Election Day pt. 1”: the calm before the storm that leaves everyone anxious for the thunder to start rolling, the summer camp romances that inevitably emerge when you throw everyone on the same bus for six months, the ruminations on what happens after this is all over. It all fits together like somebody jammed a bunch of play-dough together rather than feeling like a well-oiled machine of an episode. But maybe that’s intentional. In a show, and for a set of characters, who are constantly moving forward, it’s ambitious, if nothing else, to show what happens when nothing’s happening, so they can’t help but reflect on the past, wonder about the future, and find the oldest way to pass the time in the present.

(And, for those of you waiting with baited breath, I'll talk about the events of the very end of the episode in the write up for the next episode.)

[8.7/10] It's a stellar season premiere. I really enjoyed three themes in particular that flitted throughout the episode.

The first is the notion of homecoming. Arya beckons all the Freys to return to their family home in order to slaughter them. Jon returns the family homes to the survivng members of the northern families who betrayed him, and last but certainly not least, Dany returns to the place where she was born. There is a sacredness in return, in where a person is from, that GoT recognizes and plays around with.

The second is the notion of guilt, something that comes through in Arya's conversation with the run-of-the-mill soldiers she meets in the Riverlands. One of them speaks of hoping his wife had a baby girl, because girls take care of their fathers while boys go off to die in another man's war. There's a look on Arya's face, one that seems to reveal a lament that she'll never get to take care of her father, and that her victims may just as easily be lowborn who no more wanted to fight and die than Arya wanted to see her family killed.

There's a parallel with The Hound's portion of the episode there too, where he sees the corpses of the farmer and child he mugged back in Season 4, and can't help but feel guilt at the actions that if not caused, then at least contributed to their demise. This is a different Sandor Clegane, one who buries the people he did wrong, who believes in things, and even if he doesn't know the right words, gives them a eulogy that serves as an apology.

The third is the idea of perspective. Most of the players in the episode are concerned with who will sit on the Iron Throne. Jon is wrapped up in fighting the Night King. And Arya's on her rooaring rampage of revenge. But when Sam is caught up in the same struggle, the Archmaester (Jim Broadbent!) cautions perspective, that this too shall pass, and that there are certain things worth preserving, certain projects worth pursuing, apart from the worldly concerns that consume most men.

It's a rich episode, full of colorful scenes and potent themes. Exciting to have GoT back!

EDIT: I changed my mind. Looking back, I liked this show more than I say I did. The cast are fun and likeable, even if I never fell in love with their characters.

Hey, everyone, I made it! I got through my least favourite Star Trek show for the first time after numerous attempts. And I have to say, I didn't completely hate the journey.

But, this is how it ends? That's it? What a thoroughly disappointing way to finish things. The finale introduces some random new plot elements that really don't work and just come out of nowhere (Tuvok's disease and the Chakotay/Seven relationship - which did have some hints but they were completely from Seven's imagination, so this feels jarring), and worst of all we get no proper resolution to so many things.

Voyager arrives back home and there's zero emotional payoff; we don't get to see their welcome back or any reunions with family and friends. Tom's father is on the screen when they make it back and doesn't acknowledge his son sitting right there. What's going to happen to the Maquis crew members now? B'Elanna gives birth but we don't get introduced to the baby or even find out what they name her. Seven asks to have the Doctor perform the procedure on her which will "unlock" her ability to feel the full range of emotions, but we don't even know if he actually does that. In just the previous episode, the Doctor declared his love for Seven but that's not addressed at all.

Instead, the final episode decides to spend its time on another dull Borg story that feels like it lacks any impact. Voyager has defeated these guys so many times now that it feels pointless for them to keep encountering them (and this time they have convenient future tech). Yes, it's nice to have Alice Krige reprise her role as the Borg Queen, but the episode doesn't actually do anything interesting with her. The entire bullheaded mission of future Admiral Janeway is dubious at best and depicts her as extremely selfish.

The entire show was a missed opportunity to do something interesting, and it chose to stay as safe as possible all the way through. Any time the series did do something good, it was forgotten about and not mentioned again (remember when Seven's nanites were discovered to be a cure for death? Sure would have been useful to do that again. Remember the previous episode when the Delta Flyer's communications were destroyed so Janeway transmitted a message through the deflector? Why hasn't that been used in the uncountable times communications were down?).

The show had some really good characters, though. The Doctor was the standout by a long way and the introduction of Seven was a good move. Captain Janeway is inconsistent in her actions and motives, but Kate Mulgrew was never less than fantastic in the role. I just wish everyone had some evolution across the show. Harry, Tom, Tuvok, Neelix, Chakotay: they really never changed their personalities (and this even applies to the Doctor and Seven). There's an argument that everyone became a better person, but I say that nothing about them actually evolved. The fact remains that I just don't care about characters like Tuvok or Chakotay, because they never felt like real people.

Still, it is an easy and entertaining watch and in the end it is Star Trek and delivers a lot of the storytelling and universe that makes me feel cosy. I just probably won't watch it again (hmm... maybe if it's given an HD upgrade and released on blu-ray). I know the show has a lot of fans and if you like it then that's great, but I don't think I'll ever quite understand why.

Ahh, the sound of the nattering naybobs of Trekdom furiously trying to clap with one hand. You see, unless a program meets the narrowly specific parameters of what they will accept as "proper" Star Trek lore. Reminds me of those YouTube videos of entitled 16 year old's getting a new Lamborghini or BMW, and then pitching an absolute fit because it wasn't the color they desired. "This is NOT the Trek I was looking for"...... OK Obi Wan Kensnobby you win, we'll all go sit in the basement and watch reruns of the original series, or better yet, just the SPECIFIC EPISODES in each series that meet with your awesomely discerning taste. They rest you may send to the cornfield!!!!

Personally, I thought the producers and writers did a pretty good job of giving us a brand new crew, a brand new ship, an at least interesting situation as far as the story arc, while maintaining the connection to traditional "Trek" with appropriate amounts of fan service and character call backs. The animation, stylistically, is light years ahead of what is offered on "The Lower Drecks, er...Decks", and, the storytelling is aimed more toward the dramatic rather than the comedic. If that's not your thing, cool, but, neither should it be dismissed out of hand.

Personally, I found the amount of tension, thrills and FUN just about right, and the mix of immediate story and long arc balanced enough to hold my attention and leave me wanting more. Again, for a show aimed at the Nickelodeon demographic, that's no small feat IMO.

So yeah, I plan to continue watching it, and, it will be interesting to see if this version of the "Trekverse", can go where the others haven't gone before, or if the naybob's will be successful in stirring up enough negativity to eject the warp core and leave the crew stranded.

That last scene was amazing. I love that we are getting huge battles more than once a season, probably because they have more of a budget per episode. Drogon is a total game changer, one second Jamie thinks he can hold off the Dorthraki. The next he is just about shitting his pants. Bronn did show that they are mortal and can be hurt. Jamie charging at Daenerys while Tyrion was watching was great. Tyrion still cares, at least a little, for Jamie and wants him to live. It not often we see two main characters directly fighting each other. Glad to see Daenerys get a win and Jamie not dead, hopefully.

Jon and Daenerys are getting closer. They seem to start to like each other more every scene they have together. Jon finding the cave paintings of white walkers was convenient. Hey look at this giant rock we are going to mine. Oh, look over there, there are old paintings of white walkers. Told you there were real. Jon still won’t bend the knee but he doesn’t want to be the king. A little stubborn, like daenerys too. Someone is going to have to give.

Another stark reunion only this time it didn’t feel as special. Maybe it's because we have seen a lot of reunions lately but it didn’t seem like they were that excited to see each other. Then Sansa’s like, Brans home too. Why did littlefinger give that dagger to Bran? Will Bran find out who tried to kill him with it? Was it actually littlefinger himself, he said he “lost” it to Tyrion. But hey at least Arya now has some valyrian steel.

The Arya and Brienne fight was fun. It crazy to see how well Arya was trained as an assassin by ’no one’. She still is a little girl that can be kicked down by Brienne but still very deadly. Sansa is seeing it for the first time too. I’m sure she is wondering who her sister has become fighting like that and having a list of people to kill.

I love how Davos introduces Jon. "King Snow, isn't it? No that doesn't sound right. King Jon?" Personally I like King Jon Targaryen.

That last scene was awesome. Too bad Euron couldn't of waited five more minutes for Ellaria to "invade" Yara. That drawbridge smashing someone was a perfect start to a big fight. RIP two of the three sand snakes. One of them cut Euron, did she poison the blade like Oberyn did to the Mountain? If he is poisoned and gets back to King's Landing fast enough maybe Qyburn can save him and turn him into an undead zombie too. So the gift is Ellaria Sand? It makes sense since she killed Cersi's daughter. Also poor Theon, Ramsay has ruined him for life. That cockless coward. The look Euron gave Theon and that laugh makes him certified crazy, right?

Daenerys plotting how to take over the Seven Kingdoms was fun. I'm glad they started right where they left off last episode. It is interesting to see all the women in power at that table. Daenerys calling out Varys was needed. He always seems like he is out for himself. He made a convincing argument but I'm not sure how much is true. Tyrion seems like he has the right idea with taking King's Landing with Westeros armies and Casterly Rock with the Dothraki. Too bad it doesn't look like that is going to happen. Will Daenerys take Olenna's advice and act like a dragon?

So is Melisandre going to be staying in Dragonstone and supporting Daenerys? Does she think the prophecy says Daenerys could be the one to bring the dawn or does she think that is Jon? It was also nice to see Missandei and Grey Worm finally show real feelings for each other. It did cross my mind that this is a sex scene with a unsullied.

Cersi trying to recruit is sad. Didn't seem like many came to her when she called and they aren't all convinced. Jamie talking to Randyll Tarly to become warden of the south but he still isn't sure he is on the winning side. So Cersi has a big cross bow that can go through an old dragon skull. I don't think they will kill any of the dragons. The only way I see any dragons dying is if they are fighting the white walkers. Then the Night King will bring it back and we could have a zombie dragon. Now that would be trouble. Would it breath fire or ice?

Jon leaving for Dragonstone is exciting. Daenerys and Jon meeting will sort of be a family reunion, because you know, Daenerys is his Aunt even if they don't know it. Sansa just keeps undermining Jon in front of everyone so might as well just put her in charge. Littlefinger is now on both Sansa's and Jon's shit list. I wonder how much longer he stays there or if he decides to turn on them?

We finally got the reunion we all wanted, HOT PIE and Arya! But seriously I'm glad someone told her and winterfell so she can head home. Too bad it looks like Jon will be gone. Another reunion with Arya and her direwolf Nymeria was short lived. At least she got to see her pet was still alive even if she has to let her go live her own alpha wolf life now.

That Jorah Greyscale scene was gross. I'm guessing Sam isn't going to get it to work. He was writing a letter to khalessi. Maybe he will try to go to Dragonstone before he loses his mind and maybe the dragon glass could cure him. Stannis' daughter was cured and they lived on Dragonstone, it could happen?

Good episode, things are moving pretty fast.

Patrick Stewart spins around the wrong way after Brent Spiner "hits" him in Engineering… No wonder that particular fight call seemed extra cheesy.

Both times Graves transfers his consciousness, the implied mechanics leave major plot holes. Who turned Data back on? How did Data get on the floor? Who unplugged him?!

While I wouldn't necessarily call this a great story—it has a lot of elements that were common in science fiction up to that time, and the plot holes are awfully big—it is a great watch. Brent Spiner doing just about anything makes for a great watch.

I'm a bit disappointed to read that a scene where Data was to riff on Picard's bald head, after his attempt at a Riker-like beard failed, was cut from the script. That would have been hilarious. But maybe it would have included another instance of Deanna making some excuse to avoid laughing in front of Data, who is an android and would not feel insulted by it, so… maybe it was better left out. (That bit was very out of character, I thought. Troi shouldn't feel the need to hide her reaction from Data. He'd find it useful feedback, if anything.)

Besides Spiner's usual obvious fun-having, there are some nice little writing touches to think about.

IMDB pointed out (because I haven't read Dickens in forever) that the disease Graves had is probably a reference to a character of the same name in A Tale of Two Cities, which is pretty great.

Graves' name itself, while not really a literary reference per se, is still funny. A man trying to cheat death is named after the thing in which he does not want to end up (a grave). Har har?

(I also realized early on this this episode why Dr. Pulaski must be so dour… She's played by Diana Muldaur, who practically has "dour" in her name… but that's a cheap shot, I guess.)

It's interesting how, out of an entire 45 minute episode, one single scene that explicitly addresses they/them pronouns has got a certain type of viewer bent out of shape. Apparently this equates to the episode being riddled with nonsense, all the more ridiculous since the idea of inclusion and acceptance is so against the Trek ethos...oh wait.

Anyway, sadly this was another weak episode. Normally I'm Georgio's biggest fan but I have to agree with Andrew Bloom's review that her combative quips in the early part of the episode were generally quite forced and poorly delivered. In fact, the script for this episode was noticeably clunky in terms of the incidental dialogue between the cast. Also, while I appreciate the show finally fleshing out Detmer's character after three seasons, I feel like they've possibly miscast her. The actress isn't bad, per se, but her performance comes across as a fairly meek individual rather than someone who ought to be helming a starship. In fact the general calibre of the performances this episode was a bit wonky. The actress playing Osyrra was quite wooden in my opinion, as was the actor playing her nephew.

After a strong start to the season, these past few episodes have rather dragged. I'm hoping the closing third of the season is a return to form as some of the plot points start getting resolved.

[6.0/10] Oh man, what a crock this is. It is so full of cheats and shortcuts and self contradictions that it's hard to take any of it seriously. Suddenly, we've pivoted to the prospect of mortality and self-sacrifice as the most important theme of the season, despite the fact that those have been, at best, tangential to the ideas the show was exploring up until...last week.

And it's totally contradicted by what the episode actually does! Picard trying to "give his life" to prove to Soji that organics is good would have more weight if we hadn't seen him jump into death-defying situations throughout the season. What makes this one any different? And when he "dies", it's not because the Romulans blast him or really anything to do with his grand stand. His brain abnormality just acts up when it's dramatically convenient, with no apparent connection to his attempt at self sacrifice.

Then the episode just wipes away that sacrifice anyway! I can't tell you what a cheat it feels like to have Picard die, learn a very important lesson about the beauty of life coming from the fact that it's finite, only for him to then immediately cheat death! Then the whole bending over backwards to try to explain that even though he has an android body now, he'll age normally feels contrived and bullshit as hell. It's a dumb plot choice that immediately contradicts the episodes laudable themes about accepting mortality as something inherently human.

It's not all bad. As deus ex machina as Riker's arrival, it's still a cool moment. As weird as Data looks in the "quantum simulation" (oh brother), his death and appreciation for Picard's love is moving. And even if Jurati feels like she's from a different show, her quips and jibes got a chuckle out of me.

Everything in this finale is just so rushed and glancing and ultimately unsatisfying. There's some good ideas here, but they're all shortchanged for a meditation on death that feels out of step with the show's ideas to this point, and a bunch of easy plot fixes and character relationships that haven't actually been developed.

On the whole, this season was a real missed opportunity. Assembling this kind of talent and deploying it only for this wobbly mess of a season is a big shame. I'm a sucker, so I'll be back for season 2, and I hope they'll work out the kinks But after this, I'm not terribly optimistic.

Riker calls for emergency attention from security, so who shows up? Worf, with Geordi. Neither has a phaser. La Forge isn't even part of the security division—at this point in the series, he's the helmsman. But Dr. Crusher happens to bring along a phaser when called to a medical emergency onboard the ship… because that makes sense. (We'll try to ignore how Worf and Geordi play along with Admiral Quinn's lies about what happened to Riker. That's also bad.)

That chair Remmick is sitting in looks an awful lot like the one used for Admiral Jameson in "Too Short a Season". That's because it was the same prop, redressed.

Not a nitpick, but doesn't fit into the review proper, either: I had no idea Captain Rixx was a Bolian. This is the first appearance of the species in Star Trek, and I guess I'm used to the later makeup design—which uses a much more saturated blue. Bonus trivia: The Bolians were named after Cliff Bole, who went on to direct a total of 42 Star Trek episodes across TNG, DS9, & VOY. He also directed on numerous other well-known shows like MacGyver, The X-Files, Baywatch, and Charlie's Angels.

Some background information on what was happening in the television world at the time explains why this episode wasn't as good as you might think it should be. After all, it's clearly meant to be a taut thriller about the possibility of Starfleet being seized by aliens. It's obviously meant to be part of a larger story arc—that started several episodes back, when Quinn gave Picard that warning.

The writers' strike of 1988 was ultimately responsible for this letdown. This "Conspiracy" plotline was meant to be intertwined with the Borg, who were to be introduced at the start of season two. But the writers' strike delayed the rest of the Borg storyline several months, and this piece of it was dropped. That's why nothing ever comes of the "homing beacon" Data reports.

It's too bad. Aside from it being entirely too easy for Picard and Riker to win against the "mother creature" (in Remmick's body), I enjoyed this one. It's not perfect, but "Conspiracy" as part of something bigger would have been better than what ultimately happened: treating this like any other incident-of-the-week—essentially, pressing the "big reset button" and pretending like these events never occurred.

[8.7/10] The close of “Something Beautiful” makes me think of a scene from “Nailed”, the penultimate episode of Season 2. In that episode, Chuck McGill confronts his brother and Kim about his suspected switcheroo with the Mesa Verde files. He impugns Jimmy’s character and says Kim should open her eyes. And he tells Kim that Jimmy did it for her, that it was a “twisted romantic gesture.”

But Kim defends Jimmy. She admits that he’s not perfect, but essentially argues that he’s a good person, a person she pities for how much he wants his brother’s love, a love that he’ll never get. She chastises Chuck for denying him that and judging him, for threatening to inflict such consequences on Jimmy, denying his theory as crackpot. But when she’s alone with Jimmy, she betrays her true feelings. She punches him in the arm. She expresses her frustration, because she’s no fool; she knows he did it, and she knows Chuck’s right -- he did it for her.

So when Kim returns to the offices of Mesa Verde, the crown jewel of her ill-gotten gains, and sees their vaunted “models” of their expansion plans, it’s overwhelming for her. The camerawork and editing is tremendous, zooming in on this miniature world and making it larger than life, especially with Kim’s place in it. She sees a tiny man and woman in front of the building, the sounds and the feelings rush back, and she can’t help but remember how this all started. It started with this man that she loves taking revenge on his brother on her behalf. That’s not something Kim Wexler can shake as easily as Jimmy seemingly can.

Sometimes you start something, and you don’t know how big it’s going to get, or the difficult places it’s going to take you. “Nailed” is also the episode where Mike knocked over one of Hector’s trucks. In a bitter echo of that scene, “Something Beautiful” opens with Gus’s henchmen recreating that tableau with Nacho and the dead body of Arturo, to make it look like the same goon who attacked Hector’s soldiers before have struck again. It is, in keeping with Gus’s M.O., a meticulous job. No detail is left unattended, and to complete the cover-up, they shoot Nacho in the shoulder and in the abdomen, leaving him to bleed in the desert with nothing but a phone call to the twins to potentially save his life.

There too, the scenes are beautiful, but harsh, as director Daniel Sackheim uses Nacho’s injury and rescue to show both the efficient brutality of Gus’s plan and his goons as Nacho is left to bake and bleed under the desert sun, and the impressionistic resplendence of the flashes of night-lit faces he sees on the operating table of the same veterinarian who associates with Mike and Jimmy.

After that vet gives Nacho his diagnosis and medical advice, he leaves Nacho with one last instruction -- “leave me out of this.” The vet says that the work with the cartel is too hot for him, and he wants out. It’s another bitter irony, because Nacho wants out too. He told his father he was trying. He wanted to keep his family from getting involved deeper with the Salamancas, deep into this morass. But like Kim, he’s too far into it now, and he’s suffering the physical and mental consequence of something he can’t escape from, that’s happened because of him.
And yet, as much as Nacho desperately want out, there are those who desperately want in. Gus, ever the mastermind, has made it so that the Salamancas are without leadership and supply on the streets is running thin. He gets to play the reluctant subordinate to Don Bolsa, agreeing over feigned protest that, if he must, he’ll find an alternative supply of meth with the Salamanca’s pipelines shut off for the time being, a contingency he has clearly been planning for some time. His almost undetectable smile while on the phone with Don Bolsa betrays it. While everyone else is scrambling, in too deep, Gus knows how to play the hand he’s dealt.

But this new situation requires him to go Gale, the latest Breaking Bad alum to appear on Better Call Saul. Gale is as delightfully geeky and puppy dog-like as always, singing along to a rondelay of chemicals sung to “Modern Major General”, reporting his results from the tests that Gus had him run, and practically begging for Gus to let him be the official Pollos Hermanos meth cook.

Gale is one of this universe’s more endearing inventions, to the point that his presence is a welcome little joy in an otherwise fairly heavy episode. It even makes me forgive the show’s increasing, and frankly kind of cheesy, willingness to dip back into the Breaking Bad pool. But here that crossover quality works, because we know Gale’s fate, and what lies in wait for him on the other side of that desperation to join up, the harsh realities that Nacho is facing as he wants out of what Gale wants into.

Sometimes, though, that life on the other side of the glass is just too appealing. That seems to be the case for Jimmy, who returns to the sort of small time hustles we saw him running with Marco back in the day. This time, it means replacing the secretly valuable hummel figurine owned by the copier salesmen he rejected in the last episode with a common, otherwise undetectable replacement, and pocketing the profits.

The ensuing sequence -- where Jimmy’s hired goon tries to make the swap, and inadvertently gets trapped hiding from the company’s owner, who’s in the doghouse with his wife -- is one of the funniest in the show so far. (It had echoes of “squat cobbler” with its absurdity.) The humdrum, almost cliché problems of the owner buying his wife a vacuum cleaner, listening to self-motivational tapes, and ordering pizza in the middle of the night while the would-be thief hides under a desk is a brilliant and hilarious setup, made funnier by how much patience Better Call Saul shows with it. And the coda, with Jimmy misdirecting the owner and rescuing his accomplice with little more than a coat hanger and a car alarm, is the icing on the cake.

But there’s more going on than just comedy here. Mike recognizes that when he turns down the job. He realizes that Jimmy’s after something else, something beyond just an easy score, and that’s a complication Mike is smart enough not to want to get involved in. Unlike Nacho, and unlike Kim, Mike knows when he’s walking into a briar patch he might never walk out of, and he’s been reminded recently enough that few things in the circles he runs in are as clean or “in and out” as he might hope. There’s warning signs going off about Jimmy, and though we know they won’t keep Mike away from the once-and-future Saul Goodman forever, they’re enough to keep him away for now.

And maybe that’s the same sort of realization that Kim is starting to have. At the end of the episode, Jimmy sees the piddling distribution Chuck left for him, reads a mildly condescending but still genuine and heartfelt letter from (so Jimmy knows it’s really from Chuck), and yet he’s nonplussed. Yet again, something that would seem to provoke some outpouring of emotion from Jimmy gets bupkus, while it’s Kim who breaks down and tears up and needs a minute.

Chuck’s letter talks about he and Jimmy’s bond as brothers, about the connection they share despite their differences, about the resilience and hustle Chuck admires in his younger sibling. And there’s two ways to take Kim’s wounded reaction to that.

One is a sense of guilt for having been the thing that motivated the rift between the McGills. Chuck told her it wasn’t her fault back in “Nailed” but he also told her that Jimmy did all this for her. As I’ve mentioned before, part of the larger story Better Call Saul has told thus far is of Kim slowly but surely replacing Chuck as the major person in Jimmy’s life. Maybe being reminded of what led to her getting Mesa Verde, of the bond between brothers that was severed on her account, is too much to bear.

But the other is that she realizes she picked the wrong side. The last time Kim was in Mesa Verde’s offices, she told her counterpart that all that had happened with Chuck at Jimmy’s disciplinary hearing was the tearing down of a sick man. In that scene in “Nailed”, Kim took Jimmy’s side over Chuck’s. Whatever the truth was, she believed that Jimmy’s heart was in the right place, that he was the victim, and that he was a good man.

Now, in the wake of Chuck’s suicide, maybe she’s starting to see his decency, maybe she’s starting to reevaluate the set of events that led her to this place, and her choice to be with a person who seems fine with them all. In “Something Beautiful”’s final image, we see only half of Jimmy’s face, the other half obscured by Kim’s closed door, and there’s symbolism in it. As perceptive as Kim is, she didn’t see the whole picture with Jimmy; she didn’t see the whole picture with Chuck. Now that it’s coming into focus, she finds herself so immersed in something awful, so bound up in it, and all she can do is buckle and try to bear it.

Breaking Bad has already shown us the fates of so many of these characters, how Jimmy, Gus, Gale, Mike, are all sucked in and battered by this world. But Better Call Saul leaves us people like Kim and Nacho, who we can only hope escape this terrible orbit in better shape than Chuck did.

8.6/10. When I think of The West Wing, I think of going big. The series has never been especially subtle, and when you think of its most iconic moments, the ones that most often take place in season finales, they tend to hew toward bombast: assassinations, explosions, nominations, kidnappings, and grand declarations and recriminations in ornate cathedrals.

That’s why the most impressive thing about “Tomorrow,” The West Wing’s series finale, is how damn small it is. Despite Wells & Company's probable inclination to stick with the show’s usual M.O. and go out with a bang, “Tomorrow” takes a more contemplative stance, one that speaks to the small details of the transfer of power, the prosaic issues that emerge as one administration ends and another begins, and the quiet, human moments of the people who are passing the baton.

Even the crisis of the week is small. President Bartlet and the senior staff can’t get out of the office without pouring water on one last fire. This time, it’s a train derailment thanks to a New England snowstorm. We get an abbreviated version of the ol’ West Wing block and tackle, with what remains of Bartlet’s advisors giving him a rundown of the situation, and the President himself getting a pair of Governors on the phone to resolve this minor cross-border dispute. It’s a nice last gasp for these daily issues that were the show’s bread and butter, which serves as a grace note for the style of storytelling that once dominated the series.

But what’s really striking about the episode is its restraint, the way it doesn’t belabor points that the show might have gone to greater lengths to underline in other circumstances. While Will Bailey notes that the train derailment incident may have been the staff witnessing the final act of governance of the Bartlet Administration, it’s not Jed’s last act as President. Instead, after hemming and hawing and mulling it over for much of “Tomorrow,” he signs a pardon for Toby, only to rap his knuckles on the desk in frustration immediately after.

It’s an incredibly well-done subplot that helps pull the series across the finish line, one that draws strength from how reserved it is. We don’t even see Toby in the episode (something that, I admit, makes me a bit sad). We don’t hear Bartlet vocalizing how he’s conflicted over whether to bail out his longtime friend with whom he’s still clearly perturbed. We don’t have C.J. engaging in a spirited colloquy with the President over the pros and cons of the pardon, or a vigorous defense of her friend.

Instead, the episode takes on a “show, don’t tell" ethos. The fact that the President added Toby’s name to the potential pardon list but-- without having to detail his internal opposition--keeps delaying the signing of it, saying he hasn’t decided what to do yet, tells us all we need to know about how Bartlet feels.

In the same way, the show lets the actors' performances tell the story here. The scenes between Bartlet and C.J. are great bits of nigh-wordless acting, with Allison Janney in particular going a great job at showing how C.J. is trying to stay detached and objective about the issue, so as not to influence the President, but how her affection for Toby and her hope that the President will absolve him subtly bleeds through. Martin Sheen, as always, holds up his end of the bargain as well, communicating the internal struggle going on in the President's head, and his mild regret and frustration but ultimate resoluteness when he does sign that pardon.

The episode uses these same techniques to circle back to the idea of the Inauguration being a day of change for everyone, about the quiet end of one administration and the semi-humble beginning of another. The clockwork rhythm of the portraits and knickknacks being packed up and replace, the “you can do it” speeches offered by C.J. and Deborah Fiderer (who is fantastic here) to their successors, the way that the spirit of Leo McGarry hangs over the episode, all helps to mark the ways in which the new class is starting, and the old class, the one that we came to know over seven seasons, is walking out the door.

Most of the members of the old class get a moment in the sun here, however briefly. In the episode’s most heartwarming scene, the President passes his father’s constitution on to Charlie. Again, he never needs to say that Charlie is like a son to him, and the two don’t hug or anything, but the gesture says so much, and whatever’s left is said by the looks of affection and sincere gratitude on the pair’s faces. Afterward, Charlie, Will, and Kate find themselves with nothing to do for once in their lives, and decide to go to the movies in an amusingly quotidian touch. Finally, in the episode’s most blunt scene, C.J. walks out the White House gate and responds to an inquiring passerby, with some relief and appreciation, that she does not, in fact, work at the White House.

And in the end, we see President Santos sitting behind the desk in the Oval Office. He’s flanked by Josh, Sam, and Bram (and it should be noted that for a campaign that had major contributions from women and people of color throughout, the only senior advisors we see in the room are a trio of white guys), and suddenly there’s a new daily crisis to be fixed. There’s a real sense that the dance goes on, that we take these little pauses to stop and appreciate that a big change is upon us, but then, at least we hope, things flow into business as usual once more, even with (some) different faces conducting that business. Despite the scenes we witness of the Inauguration, the pomp and circumstance of the occasion is undercut by the episode’s focus on the undeniably small and personal and even logistical in the midst of all this ceremony.

That extends to the way the episode treats the incoming and outgoing Presidents here. As The West Wing has done often in its later years, the episode employs a certain parallelism between President Bartlet and President-Elect Santos. Most of what we see from Santos takes the form of little moments shared between him and Helen, where he admits his nerves at the monumental task ahead of him, and they joke around to ease his mind a bit. It’s Santos at his most relatable and authentic. Rather than the perfect candidate who has the right answer for every question, he’s just a normal guy who’s still somewhat shocked that he is where he is, confiding in and having a sweet rapport with his wife, hoping that he’s up to to this incredible challenge.

And on the other end, much of what we see of Jed Bartlet is him reflecting on what he accomplished and what he failed to, confiding in Mrs. (Dr.) Bartlet in the same terms. The show didn’t always utilize Stockard Channing’s talents to their full potential, but the Bartlets as a pair were always one of the show’s great strengths, with an earnestness and honesty between the two of them that always served the show well. It’s nice to see this episode lean on that strength here, showing the ways in which Abigail understands her husband, can pierce through his various fronts, and even seemingly read his mind and reassure him as he steps away from the biggest job he’ll ever do.

But the parallels don’t end there. At the end of the episode, we watch as both Santos and Bartlet unwrap something, and we see their reactions. We never get a glimpse of what exactly President Bartlet wrote to his successor, but in another superbly understated moment, the way that Santos reads it, smiles, and even tears up a little, says more than any dialogue, read in voiceover or otherwise, possibly could.

In the same way, one of the show’s last images is of Jed unwrapping a gift from Leo's daughter Mallory, something that she thought her father would want him to have. It turns out to be one of this series’s holy artifacts – the “Bartlet for America” napkin. And while Jed is wistful and seems even a little regretful about what he left on the table in his time in office, about this incredible time in his life ending, the way his face lights up upon seeing that gift is incredible. In an instant, you can see all the stories of the show, the years of crises and setbacks and victories and moments great and small flash on the now former President’s face, as he warms himself with that thought, allowing him to look fondly on the days to come.

There’s no grand oratories in “Tomorrow.” For a show known for its loquacious bent, we don’t get to hear Santos’s speech, there’s no big monologue from Bartlet summing up his time in office, and there’s not any charged exchanges of high-minded principles. In place of these things, The West Wing’s series finale offers a series of quiet, deceptively complex, achingly human moments among the people who are ending this journey and beginning another one.

The real world of politics is typically not nearly so grandiose as The West Wing's depiction of it. It's as full of bean-counters and pencil-pushers as it is visionaries and operators. But the beauty of this series, and its finale, is the way that it could balance the big work of government--the levers and pulleys and boardroom debates that we imagine when we think of governing--with the stories of the people who were pulling those levers and having those debates. In “Tomorrow,” everyone who orbits the West Wing, including the Presidents themselves, are shown to still be human beings, as impacted by the enormity of these occasions and these changes as anyone, which shows in little moments, little gestures, and little ways.

[9.1/10] If you graphed Walter White’s transition from mild-mannered science teacher to Heisenberg, there would be a few peaks and valleys, but it would pretty much be a straight, diagonal line. There were always these inciting events, these decision points, that pushed him further and further into becoming the man he eventually became. But the line between Jimmy McGill and Saul Goodman isn’t that neat. It’s more like a series of deepening parabolic arcs, where time and again, he reaches the brink of giving in, of becoming the shyster running cheesy ads on daytime television and linking up with criminals, and then he pulls back.

Because Jimmy has been fortunate enough to have wake up calls, to have people who pull him toward the light. Whether it’s Marco’s death or Chuck’s episode or Kim’s crash, there are moments that tell Jimmy he’s gone too far, that he needs to feed his better nature rather than settle into his Machiavellian talents. Those have been enough to keep him in the realm of the (at least mildly) righteous. Each time, some setback emerges that prompts him to gradually drift back to his flim-flamming ways, but time and again, he has the presence of mind to recognize that he’s in a bad place and hold back.

That’s one of the nice things about “Lantern,” the finale of Better Call Saul’s third season. It doesn’t overplay its hand on these sorts of moments. Kim doesn’t have some big monologue about how she’s been pushing herself too hard and it’s all Jimmy’s doing. Instead, she responds to Jimmy’s apology by declaring that she’s an adult and chose to get into the car. She comes close to jumping back into the breakneck schedule that brought her to that point and chooses to rent ten movies and actually relax and convalesce instead.

By the same token, Jimmy doesn’t have any long, drawn out confession or apologia. The look on his face, the held hand between him and Kim, the way he dotes on his friend and partner, says it all. “Lantern” plays the remorse, the realization, in Jimmy’s actions, not in the words he uses so often to bend and blister the truth. After fighting so hard to keep the office going, Jimmy immediately has a change of heart and says it doesn’t matter, setting that dream aside after seeing what it did to the woman he loved.

There’s a good deal of repentance to Jimmy here. He tries to make amends with Irene, to set things right with her and her friends, and continually comes up short. Until he reaches a strange epiphany. He admits to Kim that he’s only good at tearing things down, not at building them up, but then realizes that he can fix things by turning that quality against himself. So he uses that Jimmy McGill cleverness, this time setting up a ruse (that takes us back to chair yoga) and hot mic so he can stage a confession with Erin, the young Davis & Main associate we met back in Season 2. Jimmy applies that same manipulative quality to his own detriment, and it proves to be a clever solution to his attempts to correct his mistakes.

It’s not like Jimmy to be self-sacrificing, to make a move that will not only make him look bad, but effectively screw up the elder law niche he’d carved for himself in Albuquerque. That has the benefit of foreshadowing how Jimmy will need to find a new racket whenever his license is reinstated, but more importantly, it shows the lengths Jimmy is willing to go to, the surprisingly selfless moves he’s willing to make, for Kim and for Irene, in an effort to straighten out and fly right.

(Amid all of this fascinating, unexpected, but largely internal drama, it’s notable that Nacho’s portion of the episode is downright straightforward. The episode pays off the dummy pills it set up in “Slip”, and Hector’s debilitating infuriation at having to put his lot in with “The Chicken Man” established in “Fall”. There’s some minor tension in the scene where Nacho’s father seems poised to stand up to Hector but relents (with a great performance from Juan Carlos Cantu), a bit more when Nacho shows himself willing to train a gun on his boss rather than risk Hector hurting his father before his pill plan works, and the knowing look Gus offers after Hector succumbs. But for the most part, this is where the show simply dutifully knocks down what it previously set up.)

It ties into the symbolism that the episode is steeped in. “Lantern” opens on a young Chuck McGill reading to his brother by lantern light. He’s still supercilious (and it’s a great vocal mimic from the young actor), but the whistle of that gas lantern symbolizes the connection between the two siblings, the fact that despite Chuck’s issues, there is a light still burning for him.

That’s the difference between Chuck and Jimmy. Chuck manages to systematically alienate anyone and everyone who cares about him, from pride, from overconfidence, and from self-centeredness. We don’t know exactly what happened with Chuck and Rebecca, but we know that Chuck pissed away a promising chance for reconciliation rather than admit his condition. We see him push away Jimmy, the one person who really loved Chuck, giving him the devastating pronouncement, “you never mattered all that much to me.”

And when he goes to shake Howard’s hand, with the expectation that he will be welcomed back with open arms, Howard not only rebuffs him, not only sends him off from the firm he helped start, but he reaches into his own pocket to do it. He is so ready to be rid of Chuck, so tired of his crap, so devoted to the good of his firm, that he is willing to pay personally to be done with his erstwhile partner.

That is a wake up call of a different sort of Chuck, one that severs his last connection to the world, that sends him on a downward spiral away from the progress he’d made on coping with his condition. In “Lantern”, Jimmy admits that he’s not good at building things, only tearing things down, a pathology that seems to affect both McGills. For Chuck, that becomes more literal, as he methodically tears his own house apart trying to find the source of the electricity that is driving him deeper and deeper into his insanity.

“Lantern” revels in this, taking the time to show the escalation in Chuck’s madness when he realizes he is truly and utterly alone. It starts with simply shutting off the breakers, then checking the switches, then tearing at the walls, and finally ripping the whole place apart. We’re back to “Fly” from Breaking Bad, an unscratchable itch, an unattainable goal, that stands in for deeper issues the character can’t bear to confront directly. Better Call Saul holds the tension of these moments -- the threat that Chuck will fall off the ladder in his light-bulb snatching ardor, that he’ll electrocute himself grasping at wires buried in drywall, that he’ll cut himself on the shattered glass or sparks of his smashed electricity meter. Instead, it’s Chuck’s own deliberate hand that seemingly does him in.

The last we see of Chuck is him sitting delirious on in his torn apart living room. He is in a stupor. The whistle of the gas lantern returns. And throughout the scene, there is the knock, knock, knock of Chuck kicking at the table where it rests. Chuck’s descent is a straight line, a gradual peeling off of all the people who would give a damn about him. The lantern symbolizes his connections to other people, the quiet hum of the other lights in his life, that he continually had to snuff out to make sure his shined the brightest. That is, in a symbolic and more literal sense, his undoing. The distant crawl of flames that ends the episode sees to that.

And yet, once again, he is right about his brother. That’s the inherent tragedy of Better Call Saul. There’s room for decency in the parts of Saul Goodman’s life we never see in Breaking Bad, but whatever strides he makes here, whatever changes he commits to, we know that eventually, he backslides into becoming the huckster who helps murderers and criminals take care of their problems by any means necessary.

Before he descends into his mania, Chuck offers one last, unwittingly self-effacing assessment of his brother. He asks Jimmy why express the regret, why go through the exercise of pleading remorse and trying to change. Chuck tells his brother that he believes his feelings of regret are genuine, that he feels those feelings, but that it’ll never be enough to make him change, that he will inevitably hurt the people around him. There’s the irony that Chuck himself is scelerotic, that he is just as un-self-aware, incapable of overcoming the lesser parts of himself, but he isn’t wrong. The audience knows that and knows where kind-hearted Jimmy McGill ends up.

That’s the idea this season opened up with, and maybe the theme of the whole show -- you cannot escape your nature. Cinnabon Gene has every reason to keep his mouth shut when a young shoplifter is taken in by local cops, but he cannot help but yell out that he should ask for a lawyer. There are parts of Jimmy that he will never tamp down. Maybe, if his brother had truly loved him, had helped him to channel those parts of himself in a good direction, he could have used his charming, conning ways in service of helping old ladies with wills or other injustices. But there is a part of Jimmy always ready to slip, always ready to go to color outside the lines, to go to extremes, to get his way.

When he does that, people get hurt, people like Chuck. Jimmy is not to blame, at least not solely to blame, for his brother’s (probable) death. Chuck has brought more than enough of that on himself. To paraphrase Kim -- he’s an adult; he made his choices. But Jimmy had a hand in the catalysts for what happened to Chuck, in the things that drove him apart from Howard, that threw a monkey wrench into Chuck’s recovery, that made it impossible for him to return to practice and the life he once knew, the prospect of which seemed to energize and inspire him.

That is going to haunt him. The one thing Jimmy wanted almost as much as his brother’s love was his brother’s respect. Chuck’s likely last words to him will be essentially that he never really loved Jimmy and that he’d only really respect him if he embraced the harmful person he is deep down, and owned it, rather than fighting it. Jimmy won’t learn what happened to his brother and wake up the next morning as a fully-formed Saul Goodman, but that final thought, that warning and proclamation, will linger with him, eat him, even as he makes these grand gestures in the name of being a better man. It’s Chuck’s last awful gift to his little brother.

The changes that happen to people as they grow and evolve are rarely as neat or clean as Walter White’s elegant descent into villainy. They are an accumulation of little moments, stops and starts, peaks and valleys, until another person emerges from the slow tumult. Few people turn into monsters overnight or have one grand moment where they change completely. Instead, for most, it’s just that little by little, moment by moment, person by person, the light goes out.