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Richie is such an interesting character, and another layer is given to his demeanour in this episode. The main bulk of this chapter is the struggle he feels between grasping onto the memory of his best friend, while also doing right by the restaurant that he left behind. For it to thrive it must also shed what it was when owned by Mikey, and that's a difficult emotion to convey but The Bear somehow does it perfectly. The resentment of the new guard, the loss of tradition and culture that you feel and associate with a place, the bullshit conversations you used to have are no longer there. The vibe is different and you know the place is better for it, but you still can't quite shake the feeling of loss and like you don't fit into the new mould. The love is waning and it's up to Richie to process and grow with the place, or let it grow without him. As we see him call the police on the gangs he used to bump shoulders with, we're inclined to believe that maybe, just maybe, Richie is on the up. There is a lot of delicacy taken with the approach to these characters and how they're all developing post-Mikey and it's really interesting to watch, especially for the second time through. New viewers can easily get bowled over by the shows frantic, stress-filled pace and a lot can be lost in the weeds. I highly recommend another viewing for those that have seen it through once, it's a stellar piece of TV and I'm having a blast seeing it another time.

That and Jon Bernthal absolutely commands the screen during the opening scene. What a presence and really conveys the feeling that a larger-than-life character has been pulled from this dysfunctional family unit. The void left is cataclysmic, and the people left behind can't possibly hope to fill the void. So much is said via so little, and The Bear really is a masterpiece for it. I'll stop rambling now before I sound too much like a fanboy for this show :sweat_smile:

Oh boy, they went with way more explicit judgement of characters, their nature and their actions... I love it!
I think Mappa or maybe Isayama felt that manga wasn't explicit enough before (thanks to Yeagerists) or maybe crazy world outside my window that heading to WWIII forced them to be blunt first and character accurate a bit later.

That ending is why I will never stop recommending people to at least read Uprising arc (ch. 51 - 70).
Season 3 part 1 went for action and cut out so many important for the themes and characters moments.

If you were caught of guard by Armin's confession about being tempted by selfish, simple solutions, it's probably because you didn't hear his throwaway plan where he justified lose of civilian lives for the cause and more importantly it's pretty much Armin's idea to cause mayhem and pose as a savior of humanity at the end so... yeah.

As a nihilist manga reader, who kinda got confirmation on the read of all subtle (in the manga) implied motives, solutions or even lack of it during Eren and Armin final conversation. I kinda prefer manga approach, but dear lord if you only knew amount of mental gymnastics in support of "the final solution" or finding "prove" that the author is clearly imperialistic fаscist... that went around after the final chapter. Oh, boy. So at the same time, I also appreciate the option to point in the direction of (hopefully, with Isayama approved changes) final episode of the saga.

As an adaptation, final episode improved most of the scenes that didn't have enough breathing room in the manga, it didn't felt like action got in the way of the story... probably because you saw it within an hour and not as 6 months final stretch of the story.
There are a couple of scene directions that didn't sit right with me and I can't even put my finger on why, yet. Also faces for some reason were a struggle or poor animators didn't have the strength/time to fix them. Would prefer seeing the scene after credits at the same ratio the whole time. But it's a small stuff in a grand scheme of things.

TL;DR
Thank you, Mappa. You did wonders to endless season 4. After what was done to season 3 part 1, WIT dropping AoT, was a blessing in disguise. People will appreciate preserved story, themes and characters even more if their read the whole manga after Uprising Arc.

As we can see, people will never freaking learn. And I doubt anyone has any solution. We gonna walk in that Forest until the end of our days.

Oof, JP is not nice at all. He could have at least said some kind things to Taylor, but no, didn't even say the 'I wish you the best' kind of thing back. He seems to be that type of person who values "honesty" above all, but in reality, that honesty is just ill manners and a lack of social skills or even, lack of kindness. I mean, Taylor did him no wrong besides not being his type at all, yet he acts like she is an annoyance. You just don't treat people you once loved like that, even if you are camera shy (and if you are camera shy, why are you in a reality show that already had several seasons so you know exactly what to expect).

Lydia and Milton seem genuinely happy, good for them!

I wonder if Izzy is all right. He lost a lot of weight - maybe he is just toning his muscles, but hope he's not sick (or still too heartbroken over Stacy).

Even though this seasons was shorter and quite uneventful (felt like the producers were really trying to induce some drama, especially with the Uche thing, but meh), the reunion was much better than last year's. Maybe because there were fewer couples and fewer interesting things, maybe because it wasn't a live event, or maybe because the Lacheys have learnt their lesson, but finally, the right questions were asked and the right people were pushed, with seemingly no unresolved issues or hard questions left. So yaay.

[9.8/10] Susie nails it. When Midge tells her she’s considering doing something reckless with the four minutes remaining on The Gordon Ford show, Susie tells her number one client to go for it. She tells her that she got into this thing by taking a stage nobody invited her to and saying things she wasn’t allowed to say. Why should today be different? Why shouldn’t the same boldness and hilarious honesty carry the day now?

And oh my lord does it.

“Four Minutes” is, like so many series finale, full of call backs and bookends. In the finale of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’s first season, Midge and Joel are on the verge of getting back together. What stops the reunion is Joel hearing an underground “party record” of Midge’s confessional rant from the night he left her. He couldn't stand her spreading their private lives to strangers, and perhaps more damningly, he couldn't stand her being better at comedy than him.

Now, when he hears that Midge is going to be on The Gordon Ford Show, he is overjoyed for her, not jealous. And more to the point, without being asked, he tells her to talk about anything, about him, about the kids, about any part of the life he helped fracture, if only so that his sins can be further made fodder for something good and worthwhile. I’ve ragged on Joel a lot, but there may be no bigger sign of his growth and maturity than that.

Some echoes are not so happy. In the first episode, Midge hears Lenny’s rant about the meat grinder of stand-up and asks him in response if he loves it nonetheless. He gives her a shrug of resignation, a wry sort of acceptance that love it or hate it, this is the path he’s on. Here, Susie gives Lenny a plea when his life is disintegrating. She gives him an offer for help he sorely needs. Folks aware of the real life story know that Lenny is not far away from his untimely end. But when asked one final time, not in so many words, if he’ll accept the assistance it would take to pull out of this tailspin, all he offers is the same resigned shrug. It’s an underplayed but brutal affirmation that he’s as stuck on that path now as he was then.

Some lead to moments of honesty and vulnerability. The desperate phone call that pulled Midge away from work was having to bail Susie out of jail. It’s a meaningful reversal of the series’ beginning where it was Susie who got Midge out of the slammer. What led Susie there is continued raw feelings over Hedy, and having to dredge up that painful part of her life in order to get Midge the ticket to being in front of the camera she needs.

In the wake of that concession, which Midge now understands the gravity of, Susie (and Alex Borstein) gives arguably her best monologue in the entire series (give or take her eulogy for Nicky). When she talks about her relationship with Hedy, the plans they made that she let herself believe in, the love that they shared in a time and a place it wasn’t accepted or embraced, the heartbreak of seeing the woman she cared for pulled away from her, it is the most raw we’ve ever seen her. Her heartfelt confessional to her closest friend not only gives Borstein a time to shine as an actor, not only helps Midge understand what her manager did for her, but underscores the extra pain folks like Susie had to endure at a time where there were even more hurdles to finding love and acceptance that folks struggle with under the best of circumstances.

But the sacrifice is worth it because it works. Midge gets an invitation to appear on The Gordon Ford Show. The invitation is a bitter one. Gordon Ford resents Midge and Susie going around him to make this happen. But by god, it’s happening. And it leads to all sorts of great comedy and better grace notes for the cast of characters who made Mrs. Maisel feel so lively and hilarious for five seasons.

Dinah pulls off one last miracle, getting Midge the dress of her dreams for free for a mere mention of Bergdorf’s. (A far cry from when Midge had to struggle with a domineering boss to keep her job at a competing department store.) Zelda calls Rose to let her know about the show in secret, so as not to let Yanucz know she’s entangled with the Weissmans again. Archie and Imogene make it to the big show and take credit for dumping on ol’ Penny Pan from a cocktail party. Mrs. Moskowitz cuts through the elder Maisels’ monkeyshines and gets to the bottom of their grand plans.

Those grand plans are to, well, retire and spend the rest of their lives together. The epiphany arrives in an appropriately silly way, with a couple of choice falls in the shower and a sopping fur coat leading to some honest conversation. But in a season that started with the prospect of their divorce, there’s something adorable and endearing about Moishe retiring and giving up his business, the thing that represents the outward success he so cherishes, to revel in the inward success of a marriage to the woman he loves.

For a finale that is, quite understandably, full of sap, “Four Minutes” doesn’t skimp on the comedy. Susie and Dinah debating how to get a bucket across two buildings using a trained squirrel is a big laugh. Midge ranting to her fellow writers about deserving a few hours off without an array of pestering phone calls, only to find out it wasn’t them, is a very funny moment. And Abe and Rose frantically trying to explain to a series of unsympathetic cabbies during a shift change (relatable!) that through money, math tutoring, wedding rings, or magic whistles, they need to get to Rockefeller Center, is another one of the show’s great comic set pieces, with expert cinematography to match.

And yet, theirs might be the most touching moments in the finale. Rose’s schism from her husband and daughter in the first season stemmed from the sense that they were lying to her, that they were keeping the important things from her, that she wasn’t taken seriously. So when she has to find out Midge’s big news second-hand, Rose declares she’s not going thanks to this affront. It is merely the latest insult, the latest case of her being kept out of the loop by her “pathological liar” of a child.

Except, hilariously, Midge has enlisted everyone she knows, from Joel, to Shirley, to Zelda, to her fellow writers, to try to get the news to Rose. Wouldn’t you know it? Mrs. Weissman inadvertently left the darn phone off the hook. Nonetheless, she is touched that Midge went to such lengths to reach her, and it shows her how much her daughter does value and care about her.
Abe’s moment is much simpler. Midge tells him the news, and he’s confused about Midge’s references and colloquialisms and other things he just doesn’t understand. But what he does understand is that this is an achievement. He stops his all-important goings-on to tell her so and, even when the appearance isn’t going as planned, tells her how incredible what she’s accomplished is. It is a heartwarming follow-up to his hollowing epiphany of what he’d done wrong from the prior episode. And it is a tacit acknowledgment that, even if his daughter’s life doesn’t fit what he’d wanted or expected from her, it is no less extraordinary for it.

His pride carries extra resonance because Midge’s vaunted appearance isn’t going well. Gordon’s begrudging admittance of her to a spot on the show is not to perform her act; it’s to be interviewed as a writer. She is a “human interest” story. He will technically fulfill his wife’s request to have her on. But he also demeans her in the process, treating her like a sideshow and a curiosity rather than a comic.

She’s permitted to perform. She isn’t permitted to sit on the couch where the “real” guests go. He all but denies Midge her name, introducing only as “a Gordon Ford show writer”, and “our resident lady writer” before briefly providing only her first name, in contrast to the male writers who get their surnames as part of their introductions. And when she has the temerity to be funny during this neutered little segment? He throws to commercial because he can't stand her and Susie getting one over on him.

It is a brilliant exercise in frustration. Midge’s last stretch to glory in this finale is not a primrose path of triumph. It is another instance in which she must scratch and claw to get what she ought to have earned through talent and hard work alone. It is another example of her being punished for not doing things “the right way”, when that way contains every roadblock for people like her. It is one more time when succeeding at this means being bold and daring and a little dangerous, taking what you deserve because otherwise no one will give it to you.

That is the biggest bookend and parallel between The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’s final bow and its opening salvo. Susie calls out that same fire that led Midge to the Gaslight to vent her frustrations on stage in the first place. Once again, Midge goes where she supposedly doesn’t belong, speaks when it’s not her turn to speak, because whether it’s liquid courage or simply the courage of her convictions, by god, she’s meant for this.

In one of those impossible, brilliant, writerly monologues, she tells it all again. She talks about being Jewish. She talks about being the child of two demanding parents. She talks about being left by her husband. She talks about being a mother. She talks about wanting fame and recognition for what she does. She talks about the challenges she’s faced as a woman, a comic, and someone who’s tried from day one to reconcile her life on stage with her life off of it.

At base, she talks about her life. With tremendous choices in lighting and direction, the show sells the enormity of this moment, the way this is the tipping point of her climb to fortune and fame, but also an intimate confessional, the truth behind her art that makes the comedy funnier and the confessions more piercing.

As I wrote in the series’ beginning, Seinfeld was not meant to be “a show about nothing.” It was intended to be a show about how comedians found material for their act. And in the same way, this moment in Mrs. Maisel is about the same thing. The performance that puts her on the map is not a riff on random nonsense or “put that on your plate”-style phoniness. It is about how, from her initial wedding toast, Midge has used her life as fodder to stand-up in front of the crowd and connect with her audience.

In a way, Midge’s whole life has led to this moment. She uses the events of the series, her challenges from being single again, the unique struggles of being a comedienne, her relationship with her kids and her relationship with her parents and her relationship with the ex-husband whose selfish deeds started this whole wild journey, to make up the set that becomes her crowning achievement. The trials and travails of the last three years and five seasons amounted to this: a set that kills, a truth that resonates, and a person less revealed than transformed, who’s come out of her original betrayal stronger and willing to seize what’s waiting on the other side of that window.

It’s beautiful and stirring and a magnificent capstone to all Midge was achieved. If there’s an element of wish fulfillment to it all, it’s that she’s so hilarious that even grumpy Gordon can't help but break down and admit he should have had her up there a long time ago. He does fire her, so she doesn’t get off scot-free. But in a parallel to Joan Rivers’ big break with Johnny Carson, she’s invited to the couch, a recognition of her talent and the fact that, whether he wanted her there or not, she was going to be a big star. It’s enough for Gordon to give her the benediction of announcing her name, a title drop for the series that could hardly come in a more satisfying way.

But other people knew before Gordon did. One of them was Lenny Bruce. Whether or not he’s there for her great success, he saw the star that she would become. It is downright lovely that the thought we leave Lenny with is not his sad passing, but rather the image of someone who had utter faith and confidence in Midge, with a fortune cookie fortune, spun into honest flattery, that gives her a boost via their sweet inside joke when she needs it most.

But the first person who knew was Susie. Season 5 teased discord between manager and client throughout. Our flash forwards suggested enmity between them that couldn't be resolved. And for all the talk of fame here as the ultimate goal, our semi-shocking glimpse of Midge in 2005 suggests a lonely life. Her parents have presumably passed on. Her kids clearly have mixed feelings with her. Joel is but a loving picture on a desk. All that's left, seemingly, is for Midge to wander through an opulent but empty living space, albeit one in a familiar part of town, that suggests she may be as isolated and aloof as Sophie Lennon became amid her success.

Except she isn’t. She retreats to her room, connects with a blissfully retired, tropically-residing Susie, and the two uproariously funny old vets crack each other up over Jeopardy and reincarnation across a continent. In the end, when the work together has ended, what’s left is their true friendship. And more importantly, Midge has what she was looking for the last time Susie was in a beachside locale -- someone who makes her laugh.

When Midge lost one partnership with Joel, she accidentally discovered another with Susie. And while the former fueled her, and eventually worked its way to being a worthy part of her life, it’s the latter that drove her, comforted, and sustained her.

What a lovely note to go out on for this series, which nailed the landing in a way few television shows do. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’s final set is a glorious one, which pays due tribute to these rich characters, this colorful little ecosystem, and the journey that led them here. A small-time bar boss comes to manage the stars, a jilted housewife comes to be the groundbreaking entertainer she was always meant to become, and two people uncover a friendship that nourishes them even when the work fades away. To Amy Sherman-Palladino, to the talented creative team that brought this series to life over the past six years, to Midge and Susie -- thank you and goodnight.

[9.0/10] The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel already answered the question in some ways. How far would Susie go for Midge? How much will she push to break through those “brick walls” (or glass ceilings)? Is it just business between them, or is there something deeper, more personal that merits going further than she would for anyone else?

The answer came, in so many ways, in “The Testi-rostial”. But it doesn’t hurt to see it again in the present. Midge and Susie have tried everything they can to get Midge booked on The Gordon Ford show. Midge nudged Danny Stevens in such a novel yet funny direction that he tried to poach her. Susie staged a coup to get Mike the producer slot. Here, Midge even pens a sketch for Princess Margaret herself that is tasteful but funny, and absolutely kills in a must-win night for the creative team. And it’s still not enough.

So she makes the titular “plea” to Susie -- use your history with Gordon Ford’s wife, Hedy to get me on the show. Midge doesn’t know what she’s asking exactly. She knows it’s an end run around the gatekeepers who would hold her back from stardom. But she doesn’t understand why this is such a big ask for Susie, and in her defense, Susie doesn’t explain and doesn’t want to explain.

In the end, though, she acquiesces. Susie goes to Hedy and asks her to convince Gordon to jettison his rule and book Midge. She talks to the person she least wants to speak to in the world, someone who hurt her, someone she absolutely does not want to owe anything to, let alone ask for a personal favor from. Hedy herself acknowledges how hard this must be for “Susan.” And by god, the last thing Susie wants is the indignity of having to brook Hedy’s suspicions that her relationship with Midge is something more than professional.

But she does it anyway, because it is more than professional, though not in the way Hedy might think. Susie loves Midge. She wants to support Midge. She wants to break down those barriers together. This is her way of expressing it, in doing something much harder than “hopping over dicks” or haranguing talent bookers. It is, more than fixing Midge’s future Hawaiian wedding, the ultimate sign that when push comes to shove, Susie would do anything for her client, or at least this client.

Because she recognized something in Midge, something that Abe is just now starting to recognize in his daughter. When he sits down to dinner with his pal Gabe, and two more men of letters, Arthur and Henry, he is morose, shaken, unengaged with the Algonquin Table banter and intellectual debate of his contemporaries. His world has been shattered by the simple realization -- he’s done it all wrong.

It’s a long, writerly scene, filled with the kind of introspective and philosophical dialogue that could be ponderous in less deft hands. But the crux of it is simple. Here are four older white men, born of the 1800s, rattled by the constant change around them, trying to make peace with it all and realizing, to their creeping horror, that they may have had the wrong view of the world, of their lives, of their children, this whole time.

It’s a bracing thought. We too live in a time of what feels like epochal change to us in the same way it feels to every generation. There is still something harrowing about Abe’s epiphany, one steadily shared by his dining companions. Here are the educated cosmopolitan men, those expected by 1960s society to not only understand how the world works but be the masters of it. It is their jobs, in the eyes of the community and social hierarchy, to be the builders and caretakers of this great civilization.

Only, to Abe’s hollowing dismay, he sees his granddaughter upsetting all of his biases and expectations and, to his credit, it rocks him. He took his son Noah to Columbia, and never considered doing the same for Miriam. He acknowledges that she bought the place that they now live, borne on the backs of her courage and determination. He recognizes a fearlessness in her that he not only didn’t nurture, but doesn’t understand where it came from. (And even in the throes of his realization, can't countenance that she may have gotten it from his Match-Making Mafia combatant of a wife.)

There is an order, a way the world is supposed to work, that has been passed down from Abe by his father and his father and his father. But not to the daughter who disrupts that and makes him understand how the entire system upon which he’s built his life, the entire dynamic and dichotomy that undergirded his worldview, can be dead wrong, and his brave, persevering daughter, who succeeded despite him not because of him, is the living proof.

In the early stretch of Mrs. Maisel, one of the breakthroughs came in Abe understanding why Midge couldn't go back to Joel. It was the beginning of Abe seeing his daughter. Truly seeing her. And now, through her daughter, he sees her ever more clearly, so clearly that, in Tony Shaloub’s best performance on the show, he’s disturbed and disquieted to think about what he missed, and how he got this whole damn thing wrong.

A visit back to her alma mater with her old college comrades sells how close Midge came to sinking into the life her father would have constructed for her. The collegiate scenes are as vivid and fun as any in the show, with witty bon mots and rapid-fire gags as fit for any table. But they’re also a reminder to Midge that, as much fun as these old friends are, as fondly as she remembers her college days, as much as her former pals admire what she’s accomplished, they’re still a part of that world and don’t quite get that stand-up is her career now, not just a detour until she returns to orbit.

That's what she says to Susie in her Grand Central plea to leverage her relationship with Hedy Ford. She accepts having been the good soldier and trusting the process, but wants to make the final push. She acknowledges that it’s a little selfish, but that she wants more. In truth, Midge is a little unfair. Because she agrees that Susie has gone to the mattresses for her time and time again, but questions how far they can go together if Susie won’t go to the absolute limit to help her succeed.

It’s a little more understandable, though, both because Midge doesn’t know the gravity of what she’s asking of Susie and because we’ve seen what happened at the Jack Paar showcase. Susie protests that if Midge does succeed, she won’t want it to be tainted by having had to call in personal favors. But Midge has tried playing fair. She’s tried working twice as hard and being twice as funny for half the money. And it still hasn’t gotten her where she wants to be on talent and hard work alone. So if the playing field is titled against her for reasons beyond her control, why not use whatever arrows are in their quiver, fair or not?

Because most of all, Midge doesn’t want this to be something she did for a few years before settling back down into the staid life her mother and father had been preparing her for all those years. The show teases some of the good times between her and Joel, and as sweet as those were, as fondly as they both look back on them before things went sour, Midge wants more than that now. And in a way her father is just now starting to understand, she has the courage of her convictions to go out and get it.

When Midge opens up a “Letter to her future self” that she wrote in college, it contains only one word -- “don’t.” Maybe we’ll get the context in a flashback in the series finale, something to put a capstone on the thematic throughline of an unexpected boost into feminist rebellion that began the series. Or maybe we won’t. But for now at least, there’s only one other place that word is used.

When Hedy compliments Midge on the sketch she wrote for Prince Margaret, Midge is deferential, accepting her role as the impetus for the idea but crediting the rest of the writing staff for making it funny. Hedy admonishes her with the same word. Don’t. Don’t eschew credit. Don’t cast aside your laurels. Take them. Take them in a world where even the people who love you, well intentioned though they may be, won’t acknowledge them otherwise.

Don’t sell yourself short. Don’t settle for less than you are. Don’t give in to the expectations to simply play the part that's expected. Don’t stop until you’ve done what you set out to do. Maybe it’s just some teenage pablum scrawled into an old coke bottle. Or maybe, somewhere deep down, Midge already knew.

This season ended surprisingly wholesome (well, we still have the live reunion left, but I honestly didn't expect the weddings to be so emotional and positive).

Brett and Tiffany are treasures, truly. I even shed some tears during their speeches. They seem to be the perfect LIB material and right for each other, in par with Lauren and Cameron from the first season. They are the perfect mascots for the experiment, and probably a good indication that perhaps the creators should really consider what fans have been saying, that they should raise the minimum age requirement for applications. Brett and Tiff know who they are and what they want and most importantly, what they don't want in a relationship, and that definitely makes them good candidates. Early twentysomethings rarely do, and that is something we always see in LIB as well, although if they'd exclude them, there would probably be far less drama (and that equals a less watchable reality show..). Marshall being present in B&T's wedding was very wholesome as well, I hope he finds his match, he seems to be a genuinely good guy. PLUS the fact that B&T went to hook up in the bridal suite after the wedding!! Haha, love them.

I love Bliss and Zack as well and I think they are amazing for each other. I was sad that Zack choose Irina first for many reasons, but I am glad that the show decided to make a twist and "allow" Bliss to come back on camera. As seasons pass by, I believe LIB should evolve in some way to make it last longer and more entertaining, and this is one way to do it for sure.

Chelse and Kwame, well, I am not so sure about them. Chelsea deserves someone who is 100% in, and I don't think that is Kwame. Also, she expects honesty and based on the editing of the show, Kwame wasn't exactly honest with her. Upon seeing Kwame's & Micah's exchanges in Mexico and during Chelsea's party in television, I doubt Chelsea is going to be content. Plus the question of relocation, and the fact that Micah might as well be single... well, we are in for a spicy reunion next week. I would be surprised if C&K would make it (lol and I just figured out that they are C&K and they love Calvin Klein underwear).

Regarding Paul and Micah, Paul made the right call. I consider Micah to be a mean girl and she is very demanding and simple compared to Paul, I cannot imagine their view of life and of important topics align, and that they have much to talk about. And as Paul said, she doesn't seem like a nurturing person. In any case, it's still better that Paul will be able to watch Micah's exchanges with Irina and Kwame unwed, because I doubt he would have been happy to see those colours of Micah. They can still get together after every card is on the table, but I don't think that's a good pairing. And jeeez, that blonde friend of Micah.

[7.3/10] Solid pilot. It sells the premise of the show well. We’re doing The Producer except for sports. Extrapolating the silliness of a mid-major football coach being brought over to head up an English Premier League team to a full show is a trick, but the writers come up with a decent way to have it make a strange sort of sense.

I’m most intrigued by the character of Ted Lasso himself. He’s basically a cartoon character in the early going, and I could see his “hayseed full of cliches” routine running thin pretty quick. But they do a few things to humanize him and make him into an actual character and not just a caricature from sports channel bumpers.

Most conspicuously, they make him someone going through a separation from his wife and son. It adds a whiff of pathos to an otherwise inveterately upbeat persona. They also make him a kind and considerate person, asking people how they are and treating them with a certain compassion that most don’t seem used to.

That seems to be the core theme of the show in the early going. Ted may not know much about the sport, and he may only have been hired to drive something the former owner loved into the ground, but he cares about people, treats them like human beings. It opens some eyes, from Nathan the groundskeeper, to Keeley the WAG, to even Ms. Welton the owner, who’s taken aback when Ted asks how she’s dealing with the divorce. It’s not hard to see the outline of Ted’s kindness giving these players what they need in an unexpected way, but it’s a solid foundation for the show.

I also like Ms.s Wleton as a character. She’s sharp-elbowed debut self-possessed in a way that makes her compelling. Her being two-faced with Ted isn't ideal, but there’s gotta be room to grow, and you have to start somewhere.

Otherwise, this is mostly table-setting and silliness. We get thumbnail sketches of the important players, a start to Ted’s assistant coach, Coach Beard, and Ms. Welton’s morally reluctant assistant. We get the sense of the media and common fan’s reaction to the absurdity of an American football coach being brought over to manage a big time soccer team. The basics are all covered.

My only major complaint is that I didn’t really laugh at any of this. Some of Ted’s cornpone sayings are worth a smile, and there’s a few mildly clever bits. But there weren’t a ton of yuks in this opening episode. Maybe that's to be expected with so much premise-setting ground to cover.

Overall, this is a solid but unspectacular start to the show, but it sets up a good foundation of characters and plots to build on, if not as much overwhelming comedy out of the gate.

I must be half way through part one by now and I think I'm realizing my issue with this season so far. First of all it's a mess. That's obvious. This isn't the focused character study we've been used to. This is literally a murder mystery. This is the Fast 5 genre turn for You.

But the problem isn't that it's different. It's that it's lost it's raison d'etre. I root for a lot of anti heroes here in "peak TV". I rooted for Dexter easily. I rooted for Walter White in slightly nuanced ways that I think a lot of Breaking Bad fans just didn't get. Yes he's the bad guys but I understand why he's doing it. It's why I was confused when I found out everyone hated Skylar. She's my second favorite character. Without rehashing that debate to myself again. Joe was different. I rooted for Joe like I do almost every main character but I felt slimy doing it. In a way I've never felt before. I wanted Joe to win. I wanted Joe to live. I wanted Joe to escape but there was nothing I could point to and say "here's why he deserves it not just because he's the lead character in a show about himself but he did this at least". That's why the children in season 1 and season 2 were a drag on Joe. The children were slightly redemptive. But Joe isn't a redemptive character. He's so well acted, well written that you don't need to redeem him. I put this on Penn because he does what the character does. He charms you. In anyone else or with worse direction you'd have to keep emphasizing how charming he supposed to be but with You, he just is. Joe is really goodlooking. Joe is erudite. Joe is everything I imagine a women wants to just take home and do filthy things to. And then you hear what's going on in his head. The "he loves kids" part ruins that. Just let Joe be Joe. He can just be the bad guy that you, as a man, understand just a little too well. The funhouse mirror to how you think when you meet a pretty girl or just any girl that says "Hi" to you while making eye contact. Nothing will make you fall in love faster than a girl who makes sustained eye contact.

Joe was perfectly crafted to be just so distasteful in exactly the right way. From a character perspective he thinks the same way Dexter and Walter do. He's justified in his actions because of his motivations and the information he has. But You did something great. It broke the internal narrative. And it did it by giving Joe an internal monologue.

It's not just hearing his voice but everything in the show that really showed Joe to be from the get go not what he thinks he is. Joe is horrible but he thinks he's noble. Joe thinks he's in love but he doesn't respect autonomy. Every dark thought I've had as a man, Joe breathes into existence and shows it's true face. He acts on thoughts we all learn to suppress like adenaline junkies learn to not jump off the cliff just because it's there. It was all so well balanced and focused on revealing Joe for who he is to the audience if no one else.

Joe in Season 4 isn't that guy. Joe's always fought with controlling himself and here suddenly he's a bastion of control. Suddenly here he's reading women for the signals they're actually giving him as opposed to the signals he wants them to give him. Here Joe is who is thinks he is. There's no heel turn. Not for us, not for Joe, not even in retrospect (at least not yet). And rooting for Joe now feels broken because he's still Joe but now I feel like the show is rooting for him too. You trust the show to keep you honest. To remind you that Joe isn't going to be the good guy this time around. The murder mystery (in every context of that term) is distracting from who Joe is. It's allowing him to shine as the hero he always thought he was. But that's not You. You is about a man who thinks he's the hero every woman wants but she's not even in danger much less in need of rescuing. Penn is still great. He's fantastic and I've seen Charlotte in so many programs and she's doing a rather solid job here. Will I tune in? Yes. But it's not You anymore. It's Me and a Joe focused on himself might make for a better man but it doesn't make for a better character.

[8.5/10] I think I enjoy it when Schitt’s Creek swerves me. The show is so apt to devolve into corny sitcom tropes and random intervals that when it seems to be heading that direction, and instead pivots to some place real it gives me such delight. This episode fits that bill perfectly.

THe “surprise party destined to go wrong” is such a trope. I’m not knocking it. THere’s a lot of good humor to mine from the setup, but it’s an old chestnut. Then, when Johnny spills the beans about David and Patrick dating to his parents, I figured we were going to get some sort of wacky spillover where everyone’s mad at everybody, because that was going to be the “special surprise” at the party. Then, when David didn’t realize that Patrick’s parents weren’t aware they were dating, I assumed we were going to fall headlong into a pit of over-the-top relationship drama.

Instead, the show goes someplace real. David and Patrick’s conversation is great. Rather than going into relationship drama pablu, it touches on Patrick’s comprehensible reluctance to tell his parents because he loves them and is afraid it will change their relationship forever. Rather than just being hurt, David is understanding and supportive of what his boyfriend is going through. It’s mature and sweet and you feel so much for Patrick -- a very well written and acted scene.

Then you have the scene where David goes to talk to Patrick's parents and they swerve you again. You worry that they’re going to react poorly, and be harsh with David, and that the dad in particular seems ready to disown him. Instead, the hints at disappointment and frustration are just over why Patrick didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell them. It’s an incredible sweet twist, and David’s efforts to keep them from telling Patrick that they know, so that he can break it in his own way, is another great moment of maturity and understanding from David.

(As an aside, Johnny is also hilarious in the scene in his fumbling efforts to smooth things over.)

Then you have the scene where Patrick does actually tell his parents. There’s another dose of pure humanity there. The actor who plays PAtrick does such a good job communicating the characters fears and hopes and hesitation in that moment, and his parents do an equally good job at trying to convey support for their son while at the same time not letting him know that they’re already aware. The dad’s simple reaction of “I like him” is such a warm moment, and the smiles and joy after everything is out in the open is a lovely and cathartic close to the scene.

Then, of course, you have David and Patrick slow dancing in the end, reflecting on what Patirck realized and what David sacrificed or finagled in order to make this happen. One of the cornerstones for great writing is characters achieving what they want, but in a way that they didn’t expect, which changes them. This episode embodies that beautifully, with David giving Patrick the best birthday surprise he could hope for, albeit in a way that shakes out a little different than the genuine surprise party he was planning. It’s one of the show’s best stories, and the writing and acting are fantastic throughout.

As if that weren’t enough, the Moira/Alexis storyline was very good too! Moira is one of the characters who hasn’t gotten as much character development as the others. Catherine O’Hara is great, but Moira is not dramatically different in season 5 than she was in season 1. I like the show starting to change that here.

Her fear of lowering herself by doing a convention, only to meet another soap star who does them regularly and makes bank that changes her mind, is a great character note for her. She seems to take her colleague’s (and fellow soap legend) advice that there’s a freedom to letting go to heart (even if it means letting weirdos take pictures of your feet). I’m interested to see if the show sticks with that tack vis-a-vis Moira, or if this is a one-episode flight of fancy. I hope it’s the former.

Overall, two great character-focused storylines, with plenty of laughs to keep things moving.

[7.4/10] Ugh, I want to give this episode a higher score. I really do. But the Roland story is so bad. He’s never been my favorite character, but when the show relegates him to the background, he’s not so bad. But now I fear that putting him as a regular presence at the hotel is going to mean more and more of his unfunny shtick.

Case-in-point, Roland once again acts like no human being would. Bringing a mini-fridge to work, watching Erin Brockovich in the middle of the workday, and playing video games on the T.V. you were told to leave at home is just over-the-top, cartoony behavior that has zero basis in reality and, worse yet, isn’t remotely funny. There’s a decent kicker with Jocelyn explaining that she needs him out of the house and Johnny relenting, but it’s pretty meager all things considered and drags the whole episode down.

The David/Stevie/Patrick story about David being unwilling to compromise is much better on a scene-for-scene basis. It’s hard to put my finger on why, but I get such a kick out of Stevie and Patrick scheming to bust David’s eminently bust-worthy chops. In this case, tweaking his inability to compromise with the prospect of plungers and other toilet accoutrement at the front of the store. David’s facial reactions and body language when trying not to betray his utter disgust and disdain are fantastic. The fact that his ensuing rant leads to the first time he refers to Patrick as his boyfriend is a cute button to put on the whole thing, and Stevie’s in rare form.

But the most interesting story in the episode is the one with Moira, Alexis, and Twyla. Moira’s realization that she hasn’t been involved in her own daughter’s life and her fumbling attempts to rectify that nicely walk the line between endearing and comedic. The cold open, with Moira obliviously talking about Ted’s “striking” new girlfriend, is a laugh riot, and Moira’s awkward efforts to learn about her daughter and give her advice for picking up a man, are all quite funny.

They’re also very touching. For one thing, Moira’s earlier clumsy attempts to help her daughter give way to a really sweet statement that Alexis is in her prime and deserves every happiness. It speaks to how mother and daughter are on the same page with how Alexis is once again using Twyla to channel feelings she can’t express herself, and Moira uses Twyla to communicate her feelings back. I’d feel bad for poor Twyla, but she’s touched by Moira’s vicarious compliment and goes home with someone who shares her second favorite color, so surely she’s on a winning streak here anyway.

Still, the best moment is the closing one, where Moira reassures her daughter, not in so many words, that even if you have to wait a year for the right person, when you know there’s something there, it’ll still work out, because it worked out with her and Johnny, so it can work out with her and Ted. It’s the exact reassurance Alexis needs to hear right then, and it’s the perfect counterpoint to her cluelessness in the episode’s cold open.

That story does so well in the end, and the shenanigans involving the Rose Apothecary crew are amusing, but the Roland storyline is so bad that it brings the whole thing down.

Exquisite and wholesome. Some works of art just help you relax a bit and take life slowly. 84 Charing Cross Road, is one such breezy real-life tale which effortlessly hints you to slow down and listen, for the world may offer serendipity just around the corner.

84 Charing Cross Road is a 1987 British-American drama film directed by David Jones. The screenplay by Hugh Whitemore is based on a play by James Roose-Evans, which itself was an adaptation of the 1970 epistolary memoir of the same name by Helene Hanff, a compilation of letters between herself and Frank Doel dating from 1949 to 1968. This is a non-fiction book, which turned into a drama and then into a feature film. I believe it must have bloomed as it progressed through the various media channels.

This came to me through recommendation list on Judy Dench and yet, she is just supporting actress in this one. The real chemistry is between Anne Bancroft as Helene Hanff and Anthony Hopkins as Frank Doel. Anne Bancroft vividly portrays Helene with wit and childlike freshness. Anthony Hopkins presents a well-mannered British guy throughout the film. As they get comfortable with letters, the chemistry and ease of communication improve and that shows in both of the performances. Judy Dench was nominated for BAFTA for a supporting role. Although she has less screen time, she still leaves a mark as the wife of Frank.

When a humorous script-reader in her New York apartment sees an ad in the Saturday Review of Literature for a bookstore in London that does mail order, she begins a very special correspondence and friendship with Frank Doel, the bookseller who works at Marks & Co., 84 Charing Cross Road.

This is a masterclass on how the passage of time is depicted on screen. The correspondence lasts for almost 20 years. Both Helene and Frank continue to live their lives in expected ways. Frank’s children grow up, Helene’s career gradually takes off from a simple script reader to an accomplished author. In this journey of life, the conversation between these two friends strengthens as true platonic care and affection for each other.

Throughout this journey of time, the central theme always remains the classics, hard to find, out of print books. If you are a bibliophile, this movie is for you. And if you are antiquarian, then probably don’t waste time reading further and go watch this. The book references, passages offer a solace very few things can. Literature and old books being the landscape, it has reflected well in the writing. The quips and occasional sarcasm of Helene leave you smirking throughout the narrative.

This leisurely paced drama is something we all need. Probably worth revisiting multiple times when the breakneck pace of the current life invariably bogs us down. Art like this tells us to slow down and cherish the experiences.

01x02 - The Boy: 8.5/10 (Great)

That didn't take long at all, and now my brain is officially f'ed. With every passing minute, I believed we were getting closer to unravelling the mystery, but by the time the credits rolled, I was much more perplexed than when I had begun watching. Those who loved the psychological suspense of “Dark” will appreciate this. Compared to the first episode, this episode felt much more polished. I can't think of another show that uses the fact that its characters speak various languages and have trouble communicating as a central narrative feature, so I'm glad to see it here. It enriches the experience but leaves us with a foreboding feeling since I can easily imagine the language barrier becoming a significant factor in a future conflict.

So far, the programme has had a feel quite similar to “Lost,” and I wonder if it will borrow any ideas from that show. The hatch, in particular, seemed reminiscent of “Lost”. If you enjoy mysteries and haven't watched “Lost,” I highly recommend it. Thinking about it now, I should definitely give “Lost” another watch. Digressions aside, let's get to the things I noticed in this episode.

(Spoilers Ahead)

— We see the ship being watched at the end and monitored in colour; does this indicate multiple timeframes? Or perhaps it's even more complicated than that. The story is set in 1899, yet a short Google search reveals that colour televisions didn't appear until the late 1940s, much beyond the time period depicted in the show.

— Is it possible that the crew member's claim that the youngster is to blame for the deaths on this ship be factual?

— I'm curious about the significance of the mysterious Triangle symbol that appears everywhere.

— Is it possible that Daniel—the mysterious man who boards the Kerberos—is actually Maura's son or maybe her father? Or My gut tells me he's the strange kid, so I'm going with that. — Clémence is curious whether or not she has met Jérôme before. Is it just me, or could this hint towards something?

— The only accurate conclusion to be drawn is that time travel, or timey-whimey events, are indeed taking place.

Really good episode since the focus is mostly on dialogue and character description. An intriguing world. It looks fantastic. The nightly, clandestine adventures of Rhaenyra and Daemon are exciting. I also liked the explicit debauchery. Unlike in other episodes of the franchise, both sex scenes with her felt genuinely "appropriate" plot-wise (and - I must admit - kinda hot in the way that Eyes wide shut or bicurious or step-siblings porn can be unexpectedly hot. You can't explain it but you can't deny it).

I like all the multi-dimensional characters. Surprising developments. I didn't see Daemon's move coming (still can't tell what he's really up to especially with regard to Rhaenyra or is he just an impulsive idiot?). I still like the Queen's and the Crown Princess' stories best. In particular, I like how these two girls quietly observe and tacitly try to influence the Royal Court. Each in their own way. I still can't tell whether they are rivals or allies. Rhaenyra is such a renegade character .... love it. (Sometimes I fear that she's modeled too much like Daenerys which would be cheap fan-service - but it's too early to have a clear opinion on this issue.)

PS: I like the extensive use of Valyrian. Adds a nice touch.

PS2: This model of the city is fantastic.

It's such a tiny detail, but I'm glad they added a proper (and very nostalgic) intro.

Costumes, stage design and make-up continue to be my favorite element: on my second screen I can't stop googling pictures of the actors in this franchise and I'm amazed how different they look in real life. I've been doing this ever since I saw Emilia Clark for the first time in Colbert's Late Show.

A good episode. Correctly paced. Leaves ample room for character building. That's what a first season was always supposed to do: tell us who is who and who is fighting for power for what reason. I can only assume that it's especially important why innocent but fiery Rhaenyra will enter the power struggle. And they do a good job here: it's about feminism (if that concept yet existed), it's about her personal loss, it's about other family members deriding her, it's about the love to her father and to her dragons, about the difficult relationship with her uncle and probably about a confident (aka BFF) turned into a competitor. Plus, they start to widen our view: there are also external threats endangering Targaryan realm. Presumably other factors will be added in the next episodes but it's kind of credibly told. There's not much fun or joy in this episode. Everyone is angry, agitated or sad. Love stories are disturbing: even age-appropriate marriage proposals are not romantic at all. Thus: there's not much wrong with this episode :smiling_imp:

[7.7/10] My complaint at the beginning of season 4 was that the show had promised us all of these momentous changes in the season 3 finale and they amounted to...not very much. Nandor, Nadja, and Guillermo are basically in the same place. Lazlo is a dad, but his betrayal of Nadja didn’t amount to anything. Only Baby Colin Robinson is meaningfully different from where we left him at the start of season 3. It was a frustrating bait-and-switch reversion to the status quo.

Despite that, I like how “Sunrise, Sunset” leans into that idea. Guillermo’s confessional that “nothing here changes” makes it explicit, and it ties into the Fiddler on the Roof-style musical and thematic references at play here. All of the grand plans and actions that everyone has made this year amounted to nothing, and it’s very melancholy.

Sometimes it’s also funny! Watching Nadja’s misadventures trying to keep the club afloat are a big laugh. The improv comics and children’s birthday parties are amusingly desperate ploys. The ability to bring back historical figures, only to use them for a dull podcast, is a very funny comic setup. (Plus hey, I gasped at seeing Murasaki represented, so that’s something too.) And the fact that when it’s time to give up the ghost (no pun intended), Nadja burns the place down, but never bought insurance, is a good twist of fate. I especially appreciate that thanks to the blood sprinklers finally working, all she incinerates is her own office, including her secret stash of cash. It’s all very funny, but to Guillermo’s point, despite Nadja’s grand plans, it leaves her back at square one.

The same goes for Nandor. He doesn’t have as much to do in this one, mostly an amusing exchange with Colin Jr. where he thinks he knows how to relate to the younger generation and instead gets humored and mocked by the quasi-teenager. Still, after all he’s been through, his new devotion to finding a mate, Nandor is unperturbed by losing Marwa, has contented himself by getting really into books, and as a vampire who’s lived for centuries, is unsurprisingly cool with stasis for a longer time scale than Guillermo is. Regardless of his grand desire this season, he’s back where he started with no interest in “what’s next.”

Most strikingly, the same goes for Colin Robinson Jr. His is one of the funniest bits in the episode. Seeing grown man Mark Proksch portray a disaffected youth with such conviction is hilarious, especially with his mocking tone and sullen demeanor. Likewise, the moments when he reverts to a more childish stage are extra funny when it’s really Proksch doing the shtick. Plus, his instinctual need to hammer resulting in him finding a projector slide that points him to Colin Sr.’s secret room is surprisingly twisty and thrilling.

His reversion to Colin Sr. is clever enough. The gradually falling out of his youthful mop and need for glasses and, well, flatulence while reading his progenitor’s meticulous journals comes gradually and portentously enough. His full-fledged return, with the knowledge of the group's PIN number solves the money problems neatly and results in another funny bit of him micromanaging contractors.

And yet, there’s a strangely sincere undercurrent to the whole thing. Holy hell, I didn’t know Matt Berry had it in him. The scene where Lazlo explains to Colin Jr. that he’s an energy vampire, with Colin lamenting his lot in life and wondering why his erstwhile dad did nothing to stop it comes off unexpectedly real. And god help me, Lazlo having spent the past year raising this young man, bonding with him through their little monkeyshines, and being a little shattered when his erstwhile son has no memory of it is quietly heartbreaking. Berry sells the hell out of the moment, and man, you really feel for him.

You also feel for Guillermo. HIs big change, for lack of a better term, was his first long term boyfriend, and that was completely ruined by his status as a familiar to these self-centered jerks. There’s a line from The Sopranos that’s long stuck with me. Christopher Moltisanti confides in his boss, “It's like the regularness of life is too fucking hard for me.” Like so many lines from those characters, there’s not much elegance to it, but there’s something profound in the sentiment, as not very deep or reflective people have transcendent or existential experiences that they can’t quite articulate.

Guillermo is not Christopher. He is smarter and more articulate than that, but his monologue about being the hamster on the wheel strikes the same chord. He does these same things, over and over again, with no expectation of anything beyond the fact that the tide will roll out and then it will roll back in.

There is excitement, of course, in the fact that he decides to use the money he embezzled from the club to try to get his friend, Derek, to turn him into a vampire. Guillermo rightfully decides that if he wants change, he has to seize it, rather than simply wait in vain for it to be handed to him. The moment is strangely hopeful, that he will finally get what he’s always wanted, even if the show always has an out in the form of Nandor’s two remaining wishes.

But there’s also an irony to it. Guillermo goes to such lengths because he wants to become a vampire, like he’s dreamed about since he was a kid. And yet, what is immortality but the absence of change, the persistence of your current state? I lamented the persistent stasis of What We Do in the Shadows from season to season, but with this melancholy reflection on the year’s events, it becomes a feature, not a bug. The show once again turns something ridiculous into something profound. Who knows if season 5 will bring Guillermo, or the viewers, what we want, but I continue to be excited to discover what’s next.

The ending was later game of thrones stupid.

Daemon running out there like an idiot, and the dozens of archers firing at him miss, again, again, and again, and again, and again, and then oh now finally they hit.

All the while he's fighting against opponent, after opponent, after opponent, against multiple opponents, as the crab feeder sends out dozens of his men.

It's just stupid. And his dragon stayed back because? No reason. Could have been attacking the archers.

And it turns out Daemon didn't do this solely to try and kill the crab feeder, but to try and bait him out so he/his allies can kill him and his army?

But wait. Allies said they had around 700 men. They're in a war. So crab feeder must have hundreds or around that number. Crab feeder wouldn't be stupid enough to send out a big force just for daemon, especially because he was wounded by arrows and on the ground, and still being attacked by them. Plus, we saw him send out what two dozen of his warriors? Against Daemon. For some reason.

Then when allies show and dragon attack, Crab Feeder and his allies don't go back in the caves? Which was their usual tactic each time for literally years during the war.

Even though they're in a losing war, Daemon and his allies win at the end.

None of this makes sense.

Writing quality across the whole episode is lower than the previous two, and we have now reached later game of thrones level of stupidity.

Would Daemon have really done that stupid run? Oh and we also see more of his dishonorable nature by nearly beating a messenger to death, and then betraying the white flag of truth. Even though he at least seemed to have some honorable aspects to him in previous episodes, even though he was brutal. Was this all in the book? The stupid suicide run, the dishonorable actions. And was it in the book when Daemon charged right in the middle of battle on his dragon and got pounded by arrows and almost died? He got lucky because one went into his shoulder. This is stupid. Even on the run he could have been killed by the first volley of arrows. I'd be very surprised if any of this was in the book.

Edit: And we don't get enough info about things regarding the status of armies, and the numbers we do get don't make sense. So Valeryon's forces have 700 men left? Eh? That low? And you're waging a war? Been in a war for years? How many forces does Daemon have? Does he have any left? He had goldcloaks right? For some reason. I guess he had so much of their loyalty is what it said in previous episodes. Yeah i guess they just followed him to Dragonstone and then into war. Where are they? Are they still a part of his army? If not, then it's just him? Why did the Valeryon guy say Daemon is helping them lose the war, he has a dragon. He's consistently helping, especially so if he's contributing his goldcloak forces, and i assume that's all Daemon would have, since we don't know if he's the lord of anywhere and able to conscript people.

So many questions like that. All through the episode about things. When an episode is a mixed bag like this, you start to see and question many other things. I still enjoyed the episode overall though.

Edit 2: Since a lot of people seem to agree with me, i thought i'd go into more detail. The show hasn't completely broken down yet like later Game of Thrones, nor has the logic been twisted too much like middle Game of Thrones. The previous 2 episodes i thought were really good, but this episode you could tell had a different writer, and that's not good, because it makes you less immersed, like sometimes you feel these characters shouldn't be saying what they're saying. Contrast that to Game of Thrones season 1, and i couldn't tell who was writing what episode, as it was good across the board. So early into this season and i'm seeing a mismatch in writing is not a good sign.

I think we have a lot of interesting characters in this show and i'm looking forward to continuing. I'd rate this episode a 6.5/10, but 6 or 7 is valid to me. Most of this episode i thought was pretty good, but there were too many things for me to choose 6. The mismatch in writing, the timeskip, the brattiness of Rhaenyra, the white deer heavy handed symbolism, the end of the episode and the anticlimactic nature of the crabfeeder. The king feeling a bit too lost in his soul, when he's supposed to be king and has been king for a long time, and has a queen and children. I understand the reasoning, i just don't buy it much. But i still like the many conversations, politics and intrigue in the show, and the characters and story.

Others might say that this is not as intense as previous episode, which might be true in terms of action and moving the plot forward. But I find this episode is still intense in a different way: more emotional investment.

"Family" and its unfortunately related cousin "abuse" seem to be the the theme that knits together different story arcs of the episode: the obvious Butcher flashback, Kimiko and Frenchie, MM with his family, Soldier Boy, and Homelander.

The episode kind of speeds up the pace in showing Soldier Boy's villainy through a recreation/imagination of Black Noir's flashback; although I'm not too comfortable that they present Noir's flashback at face value (instead of being an unreliable narrator), I think it still kinda works.

It is shown that Soldier Boy is an abusive, selfish bully with anger issues you would typically see among band leads or celebrity groups. While some have defended Soldier Boy's action by comparing him to Homelander ("at least Soldier Boy is not psychotic, emotionally unstable narcissist! He is a normal person not grown in lab!"), I think they missed the point of the show: the biggest issue here is exactly what would happen if people with power (influence) have additional power (literal superpower) while being protected by multi-billion dollar company. They possess all the impunity to wreak havoc. Like MM said, "no one should have the right to wield such power."

This theme of abuse is explicated with Butcher's flashback. No one is inherently "good" or "evil" - you are shaped by your upbringing. As the scenes between his memories, his reflection, and his projection in current time are cut seamlessly back and forth, Butcher slowly realizes that he mirrors the man he hated the most. Yet he fully accepts his succumbing to that darkness while bringing Hughie with him through his personal vendetta against the supes - not caring about the risk towards others who he claimed he loved. Even with parents, one may grow to be a contemptuous person if they live in an abusive family, and it's a cycle that is very difficult to break. Butcher's flashback is certainly the spotlight of the episode for me.

Even with Kimiko's story in the background (her saying that V only explicates what kind of person you are), considering that we've been shown how the character's social lives shaped them into what they are now - Kimiko with her abducted kid background, Hughie's insecurity with his zero to hero job, etc - the message stays strong, countering the superhero cliche of inherently morally good and evil person.

I'm hoping this dynamic could be further explored in the next episode (or season) with the Soldier Boy and Homelander encounter when it's revealed that Soldier Boy is Homelander's father, at least he feels so. An abusive father meets a narcissist kid-who'd-wanna-be-a-father. The ending of this episode becomes revealing when tied up to the earlier convesation between Homelander and Maeve: with Homelander echoing Soldier Boy's words that he "used to dream of having kids" with Maeve, it becomes apparent in this episode that the relationship between Homelander and Maeve (and Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess) it is not something exactly out of pure love.

"Having kids" is not a romantic statement: it's a purely masculine, self-centered ego of having someone of your blood - of your similarity - that you can be proud of. Who the partner is doesn't matter; they are only means to that end. And in that Soldier Boy shares something in common with Homelander as shown through his delight of accepting Homelander readily as his son, albeit lab-grown. He only wants to see a better version of him.

Last but not least, I love the jab at corporate this episode still throws. Ashley spinning breaking news about Starlight in a similar way Disney would spin stories about their abuse and mismanagement; and that A-Train being zombified, again, with the heart of Blue Hawk embedded in his body, serving only as Vought's puppet. I'm not sure if that's the most satisfying end to A-Train's arc, but seeing his disappointed, grim look, his lack of agency, I guess the character suffers a lot. I just hope this will be the last of his arc and the show doesn't squeeze him further.

That said, with the reveal at the ending, I am not sure I am 100% satisfied as I was expecting Soldier Boy bringing down Homelander, or rendering him powerless by the end of the season. Looks like Homelander will continue to be the main villain. I just hope they don't prolong the "mentally unstable" trope too much and find ways to keep the show interesting. Looking forward to the finale.

Most solid episode of the season so far. Nothing extraordinarily amazing, but it's just The Boys at its best like in the first half of Season 1.

What I like the most is that everything that happens leading to the climax in the Herogasm is just frantic, chaotic, a lot of stuff happening at once, unplanned, unpredictable, and consequently, tragic. Just a lot of things coming out together at the same time, including the tying up of loose ends of plot points (e.g. with A-Train's demise and his conflict with Hughie).

The episode keeps the comedy and jab at corporate speak intact, but does not overdo it so we get straight to the crux of the matter. From Homelander, Starlight, Kimiko/Frenchie, Hughie, A-Train, even Ashley - the plot revolving around those characters are about what makes them really them. They all have struggled with the question whether power (be it through V or executive position) made them into a terrible person they do not like, but it is all actually on them. Power only explicate their attitude. Like Butcher in the previous episode said, "With great power comes the absolute certainty, that you will turn into a right cunt."

It was interesting to see how each characters react: Hughie portrayed as an insecure man, A-Train tasting his own bitter medicine, Starlight getting tired of the play-pretend and politicking she has played all over the years, and of course, Homelander being Homelander. I find it especially best with Hughie and A-Train. Hughie, when in S1 he acted as our moral compass, here we see him as someone fragile, a man unable to keep up with the pace of the world he's living in and feeling defeated by his girlfriend for not being a breadwinner. A-Train, a great end to his arc, as he realizes that he has caused so many harms to others due to his toxicity, he realizes that he can only bring a little bit of justice for his own brother. He can't run away from his past like Frenchie said, I think it's very poetic.

Also it's refreshing to get a brief character development with Soldier Boy. Hoping that there is more to this character in the next seasons to come.

Last but not least, the fight with Homelander was intense. The unexpected Butcher x Hughie x Soldier Boy tag-team is great, especially with the confused, defeated look Homelander gave to them. I'm expecting this will drive Homelander even uncontrollable, especially now with his inner monologue and everyone either against him (Starlight, Maeve, if she is still there) or leaving him (Noir and possibly A-Train). The show seems to be planting the seed of conflict between our Boys in the future to come. Hopefully this will pay off.

[8.0/10] This is a season finale without much finality. That’s not the worst thing in the world, but considering we went years between seasons before, the number of dangling threads here and sense of not settling down much of anything the show kicked up this season is a tad disappointing.

But what we do get is good! Midge’s set about women being in charge only nobody’s told them! And the ensuing chaos of the raid! And Abe’s obituary for Moishe! And Lenny reading Midge the riot act! It’s all excellent and in some cases, downright moving.

It’s that last bit though that’s my favorite. Candidly, I don’t like Lenny and Midge sleeping together. In my humble opinion, the show went about as far as it should have in blending real life and fiction with Midge and Lenny’s quasi-date in “It’s Comedy or Cabbage” from last season. Pushing it this far, especially after Lenny’s jerkery earlier, seems unnecessary.

But I like him being the one to talk some sense into Midge. Susie is just freaking done and, given how her phone is ringing off the hook, doesn’t seem to need Midge in order for Susie Myerson and Associates to do some serious business. She’s understandably pissed that Midge gave up the Tony Bennett gig in the name of only headlining, but just sucks it up until she says, not in so many words, that she’s tired of having to listen to Midge’s B.S. about this. And hey, good for her.

Lenny, on the other hand, comes from a place of experience. He’s the one Midge aspires to be like, to be able to speak her mind and still have an audience like he does. And he basically tells her that being controversial is a curse as much as it’s a blessing. He demands that she take him off a pedestal and recognize him for the fuck-up that he is (drug problem notwithstanding). Most of all, he insists that she see this as work, that she give up on the “my way or the highway” bullshit and play ball to get where she wants to be.

It’s the kind of speech you don’t hear very often on television. (The “just do the work” speech to Don in Mad Men comes to mind as the rare comparator.) It’s not inspiring exactly, but it’s motivating. It’s learning to compromise, to put in the work to get you where you need to go, and have the humility to recognize that your path to get there may involve a few less glamorous stops along the road. It comes from a place of love. Lenny sees that Midge is on the cusp of her big shot and doesn’t want her to miss it. And it’s exactly what she needs to hear.

The rest of this one is good too. I’m sorry to say that I recently had an experience of a loved one being in the hospital in dire condition, and “Carnegie Hall” manages to capture both the humor and heartbreak of it. Imogene patting everyone on the arm, Joel looking up medical textbooks, Mei posing as a hospital-provided mahjong player, Abe fearing his keys are a death rattle, it’s all funny in that dark but rib-tickling sort of way.

It comes with a heap of touching moments though. The one that catches you off guard is the conversation between Abe and Shirley. It’s funny too, with detours about services for burial plots and trips to Turkey based on Turkish plumbers. But the heartfelt conversation about “dying with all your teeth” and whether god is cruel for allowing people to know that they’re going to die is profound in a way you don’t necessarily expect from what is mostly a joke character. The coup de grace comes when Shirley reassures Abe, even as she’s hurting, that if Rose passes first, she’ll be there to help him. It’s just unbearably sweet.

The same goes for Abe’s spoken obituary about a thankfully living Moishe. Amy Sherman-Palladino doesn’t lay on the schmaltz. Abe discusses the origins of Moishe’s fabrics shop and mentions the thirteen Jews and even gets philosophical and academic in that trademark Abe Weissman way. And yet, he ends on a note of sincerity. As much as the elder Maisels are characters who exist mainly for humor and to be pests, their actions speak to their true, generous character. Abe’s right. The way they took Abe and Rose in without asking for anything in return, the way Moishe’s looked after Midge when it wasn’t his responsibility, is a mitzvah and the sign of a good man. The speech tugs at the heartstrings and Kevin Pollak does excellent work with Moishe’s plainly touched reaction.

The episode’s a good excuse for Sherman-Palladino to show off her skills as a director. The “Personality” sequence at the burlesque house has oodles of visual panache, and it’s matched with the mad dash to get everyone out the door once the raid starts. We get some good indications of struggle as Midge trudges through a freak snowstorm. And in the big scene with Lenny, she manages to make two people arguing on a big stage in an empty theater visually interesting with the way she blocks the performers and keeps the camera active with them.

That just leaves Midge’s set. As always in these confessional moments, Midge (and by extension, Sherman-Palladino) seize on both the truth and the humor. Her recognition of how women are expected to soldier on in these situations where men are societally permitted to be out of sorts is well-observed. Her note of how doctors are gods but nurses are, as Lenny will say, doing the work, and holding you as you cry, sets up a strong call and response and vindicates hard-working medical professionals. And she closes without a joke, just a wry but piercing observation of who might really be in charge and a wish that a kind man not leave this veil of tears just yet. It’s her best set of the season, and there have been some doozies.

Of course, there’s also the sweetness of Abe and Rose, with him being moved enough by Shirley’s comments to affirm her and her match-making, and give her the wherewithal (and kiss) to spur her to go to war with the Matchmaking Mafia. It’s a nice grace note for the couple.

There’s still a lot up in the air. Shirley still doesn’t know about Mei. Moishe accepts her and her pregnancy, but insists she convert. Midge’s career trajectory is still a big question mark. Susie’s rocket to the top and what the mob’s “taste” will look like lingers out there. How Rose’s war will turn out, what will become of Alfie and James and Dinah, and a million other questions still linger. This is more of a set of ellipses than a period, or even a semicolon.

But it’s good stuff -- touching, funny, and appropriately chastening of its title character at a time when she needs to hear it. I can’t ask for more than that.

[6.0/10] So magic is real in the Maisel-verse. Let’s start there. As Susie might say, “What the fuck?!”

Part of me wants to applaud the chutzpah of going full on Magical Realism at this stage of the game. The show at least teased Alfie’s genuine mystical abilities in the first episode with Susie’s little jaunt into the calendar. But the fact that he can conjure images out of nowhere, predict the future, disappear into thin air, and most of all, hypnotize Rose into doing her act word-for-word is a bridge too far for me. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel already exists in a certain heightened reality. Going beyond some fanciful sleight of hand and making Alfie legitimately magical is just too much.

But you know what? Somehow not the most questionable thing in the episode. Midge is...really callous and oblivious here. I want to believe that the show knows this and is doing this intentionally to reveal a certain self-centeredness that’s going to come crashing down in some way shape or form, especially after how well the show handled the Shy Baldwin confrontation. I’m still a little wary of Sherman-Palladino protagonist blind spots though.

Let’s recap. (1.) She’s very harsh with Joel over the reveal about Mei. Granted, that’s the most fair one of the bunch, since Joel was brusque with her and hearing that your ex is getting married and having a baby would be jarring for anyone. (2.) Yet again, she doesn’t seem like she’s willing to listen to Susie, and even taking gigs without her. Again, granted, the Croatia gig was a legitimate non-starter. But Midge doesn’t seem to hear or care that Susie can’t promote her without Midge making the effort to climb the ladder, to be an opening act where Susie can nevertheless take bigwigs to see her. Midge doesn’t care, and won’t even close the door on her way out.

(3.) Midge’s act is pretty cruel to her family. Maybe you can say she never meant for them to hear that stuff, but it’s still personal and unflattering details to share in a public place without the consent of the people you’re talking about. Anyone friendly with creatives knows that parts of your lives will end up in their art, but there’s ways to handle that gracefully, and Midge’s is anything but. (4.) She’s oblivious to how the story of her accidental instance of being The Other Woman might be too racy for this crowd, no matter how they cheer, and more so might hurt none other than Jackie Kennedy. Now look, emotionally piercing a future first lady with your infidelity-based comedy isn’t high on the list of predictable social faux pas to avoid, but still.

(5.) Last but not least, you even have poor Dinah trying to work around Midge’s self-focus. Whether it’s adjusting meeting times to account for the fact that Midge is chronically late or Midge enlisting her manager to get her dress back from an accidental one night stand, an effort that “took some doing,” you get the plain sense that Midge expects the world to bend to her will. And hey, that’s even setting aside that she recruits mob guys to stalk her ex’s new squeeze, spilling the secrets she swore not to tell anyone in the process.

I think, I hope, that the folks behind the show see how selfish this all is. I hope, as I’ve hoped from the beginning of the season, that this will be an opportunity for Midge to gain some self-awareness. Rose is wrong when she told Midge to stop what she’s doing, but she was right when she told her daughter that they’re all connected. Midge’s choices have consequences for other people. And increasingly, it seems as though she doesn’t care about that, or anything but herself.

But by god, Susie does! In addition to going all out for Alfie, she recognizes the special talent of James, the stand-up Dinah takes her to see at a chicken and waffles joint. It’s enough to keep Susie from firing Dinah, which frankly seemed nuts since, despite Dinah’s controlled chaos, she seemed fantastic at working within Susie’s own brand of chaos and getting things done.

More to the point though, we can see in these things Susie making good on the promise she made at Jackie’s funeral. She’s giving people a chance who would never otherwise get one, people who have something special that she recognizes and wants to nurture. As Midge gets worse, Susie seems to get better, and I suppose I’ll take that trade.

In terms of serious things, that just leaves Joel and Mei. I have a feeling about where this storyline is going (which would, ironically, take it in the exact opposite direction of how Gilmore Girls used to handle these sorts of unexpected developments. Nevertheless, I like Joel freaking out about how his life is about to change significantly. He has no right to be rude to Midge about it, but expecting a baby right when you’ve been robbed at least makes it comprehensible, if not justifiable. Joel telling Moishe, replete with a fainting spell, is a little cheesy as an episode break, but their interactions remain sweet, and I have a feeling all of Joel’s confessions will amount to naught.

In less serious tones, I don’t know how to feel about Abe being strong-armed by the Matchmaking Mafia. It’s a ludicrous storyline to begin with, but then they take it someplace serious and meaningful. For however wrong Midge is for most of this episode, she’s right in telling her mother that if this thing makes her happy and fulfilled, she should fight for it. I’m curious to see where Rose’s arc goes this season, even if the tonal shifts are a bit awkward.

All of that said, this one’s...pretty funny? The gag runs for too long, but Abe accidentally taking communion and not knowing what to do with the wafer is some great Jewish comedy. Astrid’s provincial reactions to Alfie’s show are hilarious. Susie getting dressed completely on top but not on bottom is bizarre but makes for a funny exchange. And the comics, from Midge, to Lenny, to god help us all, Rose Weissman, do a good job in their acts. Hell, the cold open with Midge running into a Handsome Man (freakin’ Jess!) who turns out to be running a Dennis Reynolds play on her is a great comic swerve. For all the discomfiting material in this one, there’s at least some good yuks.

Overall, this isn’t a great lead-in to the finale, whether for the existence of magic, Midge’s self-centeredness, or some weird tonal balancing acts, but I’m still hoping against hope that, after a very good season up this point, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel is going somewhere with all of this.

[8.2/10] It’s rare in television that a scene you imagine is almost exactly what you wanted. I figured that The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel would have some sort of confrontation between Midge and Shy Baldwin. It’s too juicy to fully ignore. And the situation with Benjamin gave us precedent for the show dropping a bombshell late in one season and addressing the aftermath and consequences later in the next one.

But what I was afraid of is that it would be nothing but triumph and glory for Midge, giving the guy who supposedly screwed her over the ol’ what-for. Instead, Midge says three simple words: “I fucked up.” She explains why. She tells shy about the nerves, about having to follow a legend, about doing anything to get a laugh. But she tells him that she was sorry, and remains sorry, and would never do anything to hurt him, because he was her friend.

Or at least that’s what she thought. Midge does read Shy the riot act a bit. She tells him that she thought he was a friend too, that whatever the situation, she didn’t expect to be treated like that, that thanks to what happened, she knows it was never true.

It’s a tough needle to thread, but the scene is nigh-perfect in how Midge admits she screwed up but confronts Shy with how what he did is pretty screwed up too. Does it still tilt things a little too easily in Midge’s favor? Yes. But it’s an admission of guilt at the same time it’s a recrimination and private execution (which is better than the public one Midge got). The scene’s well-acted and well-written on both parts, with the right blend of humility, contrition, and righteous anger I wasn’t sure The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel had in it, but I’m awfully glad to see. Consider the Shy business resolved and resolved well, a feather in the cap for concerned fans like me.

At the same time, Midge proves her morals in a way that’s a little too good to be true. She promises to keep Shy’s secret about his sexual oreintation, but won’t accept bribery from his craven new management for it. Susie’s funny in how she’s ready to take the money and run, but you can also appreciate MIdge’s principle here, not wanting to sully herself or her promise with financial strings. At a time when her checkbook doesn’t quite balance, it’s a testament to the fact that she meant what she said, even if Shy didn’t reciprocate her kindness.

And hey! Shy’s wedding is a fun setpiece. Watching Midge and Susie go celebrity-spotting and try to find ways to cost Shy more money is a hoot. (Though I could do without them being so rude to the waitstaff.) As always, the music, the set design, and the cinematography are all top notch. (And hey, this isn’t usually my beat, but Midge’s dress looked gorgeous.) This show knows how to put together a luxurious spectacle, and the wedding was no exception.

The rest of the show clicked too. I loved Susie coaching up Sophie Lennon and kick starting her comeback. Jane Lynch continues to be a treasure, not only selling the comedy of Sophie being frazzled over having to take a cab, but being charming on a late night talk show. Susie’s pitch that doing a raw, unfiltered interview will help the show’s talent booker climb in esteem demonstrates her skills as a pitchman and manager. And Susie’s crack wit and vulnerable honesty on camera not only illustrates how funny she can be apart from her cornball character, but explains why she crumpled that night on Broadway and that she heard what Susie told her last season. It’s nice to see both of them get the win.

It’s also funny to see Susie get a secretary. Her bungled attempts to interview the various gals trying to win the position are amusing in how out of water Susie is in the hiring process. The show’s fun banter takes root as she’s trying to figure out what questions to ask and how to vet these girls who have very little in common with her. Her choice to pick the young woman who’s been waiting for seven hours to interview is as good as any, and they have a nice rapport right from the bat.

Plus hey, I continue to like Joel and Mei’s story. Who knew I could like a subplot with Joel in it? Mei being so flustered about how to impress the Maisels and what they’ll think of her is a blast. The writers outdo themselves with the patter between Mei and Joel about dodging Shirley’s phone calls and prepping and primping for the big introduction. I’ll confess to being a little disappointed at the feint when Mei loses her mettle and doesn’t show, but I respect it and understand it from a character perspective. Having Moishe recognize his son’s fib and say all that matters to him is that they like each other is wholesome and sweet, a consistent undercurrent in their relationship as father and son, which I like.

That just leaves Rose and her match-making business. For Gilmore Girls fans, it’s nice to see Scott Cohen (Lorelai’s former beau, Max) brought into the fold as a wealthy man named Mr. Melamed who wants to marry off his two, shall we say, unattached daughters. It’s a little cartoony, but it’s nice to see Rose’s new career choice going somewhere, and seeing her in her element.

But I’m more invested in her conflict with Midge over the way their two careers might conflict. I love the notion that they’re both pursuing their passions, something they’re really good at, but frustrated at how the other’s pursuits might get in the way. Their argument in the den is a strongly-written scene, where Rose is understandably concerned about how Midge’s new gig might mess up her spot, but Midge is rightfully angry at her mother denigrating her career once more and asking her to change it on a whim, not to mention invading her privacy. It’s two strong-willed women whose motivations and goals conflict. Putting it into the broader context of them as mother and daughter adds a realness to it despite the polish that makes the “fancy millionaire wants Rose to get his offspring hitched” more than a silly sideshow.

Overall, this season continues to impress and, in particular, tie off things with the Shy Baldwin storyline better than I dared hope.

[9.2/10] It’s a cliche, but it’s tough to remember an hour of television that made me both tear up and laugh this hard. It’s a testament to the incredible balancing act of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, a show that can tickle your funny bone and win you over with whimsy and style at every turn, only to stop and break your heart when it feels like it. It takes a set of experts behind the scenes and talented performers at the top of their game to make it work, but god help me, this show pulls it off.

I love the story of Susie mourning Jackie. I’ll confess, I didn’t know the actor who played Jackie had passed away, which only added to the poingnance of the moment. But so much of the story so perfectly walks the line between funny and sad. There’s a surprising amount of laughs for such a grim thing! Susie’s catatonia over the whole thing to where Midge moves her around like a little doll. Susie going to the theater and just so happening to see all the plays with death in the title. Rose explaining that a man died in Susie’s apartment so she can’t go back, only for her friend to ask whether his body was blocking the door. It’s black comedy, but it works like gangbusters.

So does the well-observed situation where Susie lived with Jackie, slept next to him, spent any number of hours with him, but realizes she still didn’t truly know him. There’s depths to our friends and acquaintances we may never know, parts of their lives they share and parts that stay hidden. Death removes that chance from our grasp. Finding so much about Jackie’s life Susie had no idea about shakes her. She not only misses her friend; she misses all the things she missed about him while he was alive. There’s poignance and truth in that, in ways that are both comical and piercing.

Those adjectives apply just as well to her speech. It rivals BoJack Horseman for the most eccentric but no less moving funeral speech. There’s something so true and heartbreaking about what Susie says here. We don’t always know what we mean to people. Some folks who we know live lives of distinction with no renown. They deserve to be remembered, to be recognized, to be appreciated in life and in death. Susie’s heartbreak at the double loss of the man she knew and the man she didn’t, and her resolve to lift up those like him in his honor, is one of the best moments in the whole show.

What’s so impressive about this episode is that the same goes for another, very different scene. Holy hell, Abe getting reamed out by the entire congregation for his brutal review of a play written by the temple’s favorite son in the middle of a bar mitzvah is uproarious. The dirty looks, Abe’s spirited defense of himself as a truth-teller, Moishe’s confusion turned to resentment over him having an aliyah, the culmination of the running gag about Midge doing a terrible job in the 1953 Catskills production of the same show, Rose’s shocked reveal that the character she loves to hate is based on her, a rousing talmudic debate over what implement Cain used to kill Abel, Joel preemptively not hitting on another guy’s wife, random shouts from the peanut gallery. It’s all just a glorious symphony of absurd humor mixed with the sort of circle the wagons defense of their own that you find in tight-knit communities. It’s another masterpiece scene, every bit the equal of the Ferris Wheel in the opening.

Hell, there’s a lot of those multi-man royal rumble comedy sequences in this one. The Maisels and Weissmans sitting down to dinner and going back and forth over squash, theater tickets, matchmaking, and Susie is a hoot in the spirit of Gilmore Girls’ famed Friday night dinners. The scene in the theater itself, with jabs at Midge’s singing, Shirley chasing after a celebrity, and Abe reveling in his cape is a delight. The ten-car pile-up of comic characters and great lines is this one is just outstanding.

It’s a good Midge episode too, though! We see her hacking it at the burlesque club where she’s wrangled a job as emcee. Her treating a solid but comparatively low rent gig like it’s one spit-shine away from being a well-oiled machine is a good laugh in and of itself. Seeing her flit around trying to make improvements and introduce herself like she’s a counselor at Steiner’s is a nice tribute to a certain out of touch-ness with her setting.

But then we get our first Lenny Bruce appearance of the season! It’s great to receive the first dose of the duo’s stellar dynamic for the first time in quite a while. His likely apocryphal speech about being pelted with erasers while giving a school presentation as a lesson on staying cool despite distractions, and vowing to return the favor for Midge during her set, is a stellar setup. True to form, it brings the best out of Midge, who ad-libs to making fun of a few oblivious patrons while being hit with crumpled up paper and straws throughout her set. It’s a nice bit of ribbing and minor victory for Midge in an episode that isn’t about her as much as many installments of this one are.

Instead it’s about Abe, who has a great scene with his editor about using his voice, little realizing his self importance will not only threaten his wife’s budding business but potentially implicate him and his friend to the FBI. It’s about Rose, who’s succeeding in the matchmaking biz and has a hilarious scene where she has to babysit Susie as though the grown woman is a toddler.

And it’s especially about Susie, a woman not prone to emotion who is nevertheless rattled by the death of her friend, and has to lean on Midge and the Weissmans and the other small bits of support in her life to get by. It is unreasonably funny, and just as heartbreaking in turn. Not every show can succeed at both so well, but The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel can.

[8.5/10] The first episode of this season felt like an epilogue to the last one. It pointed the way forward in a few areas, specifically the approach Midge wanted to take with her stand-up. But for the most part, it was about the aftermath of Midge being left on the tarmac, and the impact it had on everyone. It was a check-in with where all of our main characters were after the big time events of the last batch of episodes.

That’s a good thing, by the way! The episode had its ups and downs, but I admire The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel for taking the time to dig into the fallout of that event rather than pulling the old “time jump six months and give us dribs and drabs of the aftermath in flashbacks” routine. There’s a conviction to taking the consequences of your story choices head-on, which I appreciate.

But this episode felt different. It almost felt like another pilot. If the prior episode was a postscript to measure the damage done to our heroes, this one is meant to reposition them for whatever comes next. I appreciate that too. The new spots aren’t easy for anyone. Midge is hanging onto her new old life by a wing and a prayer (and a generous, disconcertingly-won line of credit from her usual vendors). Susie is trying to get her client’s career (and by extension, her own) back on track. And Abe is taking his first step into the world of criticism at the Village Voice.

All three of these paths have their hazards. They have their comic interludes. But they also have their charms and small wins in the meantime, if not necessarily the financial remuneration. The approach makes me more confident in the direction of season 4 than the season premiere.

My favorite of the stories is Midge’s, but honestly, I like all three quite a bit. THere’s just something I appreciate about Midge struggling. That sounds mean, but I’m conditioned from seven seasons of the Gilmore Girls having a comparatively primrose path to success in whatever they choose to do. I suspect Midge will land on her feet sooner rather than later, but it’s nice to see her wheeling and dealing her way through deferred payments, lines of credit, and a rush of new roommates with the idea that she’s got this new life figured out, only to have it be a dizzying headache from one minute to the next.

It’s relatable! It’s endearing! Her problems are still first world problems for the most part. (Not all of us have to grapple with the psychic trauma of watching a former friend/employer who screwed us over get engaged on live television.) But seeing her “put it on my tab” plan backfire in the milk department when the credit was under Joel’s name, her “invite my parents to move in” plan create problems when they’re not only noisy/bossy houseguests but want to publicly take the credit for it, and her “rearrange my bedroom” plan literally and figuratively run into some sharp corners brings Midge down to earth and makes us sympathize with her frustrations.

While the tone is still heightened, there’s such pathos in her straining to slam the door of her misarranged bedroom, collapsing on the bed, and breaking down in tears. Not everything she’s doing is above board. (See: the attempt at milk theft.) Not all of it is well-advised. But god bless her, she’s trying. She’s trying really hard and seeing things still not go her way sometimes. Watching her buckle a little in the face of that is very human and endearing, which is a tonic to her “This is everyone’s fault but mine” attitude in the last episode.

Not for nothing, it’s also a great source of comedy. The pure physical comedy of her bumping into all of her mislaid furniture is a hoot. The running gag of Imogene, Rose, and Zelda each placing the pots and pans at different heights had me in stitches. And the conversation between Midge and her parents where she invites them to stay is an all-timer. It has that perfect Sherman-Palladiino and company patter, with Abe’s Twilight Zone oblivious, the elder Weissmans’ conflicting reactions to the invitation, and Midge’s disbelief when the optics of her compassionate gesture get turned around on her are all brilliantly funny. I dare you to find snappier, funnier dialogue on television today.

Susie’s story is a pip too, filled with back-and-forths that are almost as good. Her conversation with her sister about sleeping with the insurance guy to get their check/a job is a masterclass in flabbergastery. Susie’s visit to Sophie Lennon at a mental hospital to dissolve their partnership is a broadly comic treat. And her conversation with Harry Drake about past wives, the coldness of the business, but also the recognition Susie earned for getting Sophie to Broadway is outstanding.

The gist of the conversation is simple -- Susie feels down, but she’s made a name for herself, one that will open doors for her. Given his past shadiness, I don’t necessarily trust Harry in all of this. But their conversation is warm and sweet. And in an episode where Midge is sympathetic for struggling under the aegis of high class problems, it’s nice to see some sort of attaboy and win for Susie, who’s working just as hard, with far fewer resources, and making a little headway.

So she takes Harry’s advice and starts directing Midge more than listening to her. She drags her to a club where they serve alcohol (part of the money-making angle), and finds the pissy owner won’t bump even the hackiest of comics for a talent of her calibur. Watching the two of them roast the other stand-ups is mean but hilarious. When Midge herself goes up on stage to do another comic’s tired act before he can, it’s the piece de resistance.

Of course, this being Midge, she ends up in jail in the aftermath, finding her prime audience in a freeform environment with no limitations beyond the occasional rap on the bars for language. Only this time, another inmate’s sob story leads Midge to lean on her manager to bail that young woman out too, and the trip to get their money back from her takes them to a burlesque house, one whose comical emcees is conveniently leaving the gig.

It’s a tad contrived, but I still like it. Lord knows if it’s a big money-making spot, but it’s a regular gig, one that can put milk on cereal for both Midge and Susie on a consistent basis. It’s a club that serves alcohol, meeting the practical needs and requirements of Susie’s strictures, and with patrons coming for the girls rather than for Midge’s set, there’s the implicit promise of some creative freedom. Hopefully it’s not too perfect a solution. There’s a lot of room for things to go wrong here. But it’s a nice humble place to see Midge find her footing after the Shy Baldwin situation.

Hell, it’s nice to see Abe humbled a little too. He starts his first day at the Voice and meets his editor (played by the same guy who portrayed Digger Stiles for my fellow Gilmorites) and colleagues. The assembled are a little bemused at how much homework Abe did for his new theater critic role, but all’s well until he gets his first paycheck. The paltry sum can, in Midge’s own exaggerated but on-point words, maybe buy a couple of eggs.

And yet, what ensues is unbearably sweet. He hands it over to his daughter regardless, hoping it’ll help with the household expenses and help rectify some of the disruptions in the father-daughter time space continuum. More to the point, he confesses that despite the paltry pay, he loves the job. He loves the people. He feels fulfilled by the art and the atmosphere of it, and that’s worth something too.

He and Midge commiserate on that front, not exactly knowing where their financial support is coming from in a day or a week or a month, but loving their art. We’ve seen bits and pieces of where Midge’s style and attitude come from over the years, but I love this sense that as all of these characters are embarking on new challenges, she might just get doing it for the love of the game from her father.

It’s good to see characters struggle. It’s good to see them face real challenges as they start to reset their lives in the wake of great changes. But it’s also nice to see them find those little moments of comfort and grace amid the tumult. It makes the sips, and the moments shared, all the sweeter.

[8.1/10] There was a Dave Chapelle quote floating around a few years ago. He said, “Sometimes the funniest thing to say is mean.” I mistook his meaning. I assumed it was an admission that it’s easy to be snide, it’s easy to use humor to hurt people, but that the mark of a true comedian was to be more clever than that, to find ways to make people laugh while not resorting to the lowest common denominator.

I was wrong. What Dave meant was that it was his job to be funny, and it justified any hurt his words might cause. Take from that, and his other questionable statements in recent years, what you will. But I have a similar reaction to Midge here.

Midge wants revenge. She saw her new version of her old life ripped away once more, and yet again by a man. Well the best revenge is living well, and for Midge, living well means being herself on stage. So she makes a demand of her manager. She tells Susie that she only wants to speak her mind, to be her authentic self, with every set, no matter the circumstances. She wants to be unfiltered, unrestrained, unadulterated, without the sort of hackwork and “stay within the lines” dues-paying gags other comedians have to spit out, because that’s when she’s great. Let Midge be Midge.

On the one hand, you want to support her, because we love Midge! She is at her funniest when she’s riffing. She is great when she can work a room and play it at her own pace. She did have her life unfairly blown up, and she did come this close to regaining it came tumbling down once more. We’re righteously indignant on her behalf, and seeing her vent her anger on stage is cathartic for us and for her.

But Shy Baldwin is not Joel Maisel. Someone being upset that a supposed friend (inadvertently) came close to outing you in the 1960s is not the same as someone cheating on you with their secretary. And Midge’s myopic devotion to her art, without stopping to think about how her lack of filter on stage not only messed up her shot at the big time, but also hurt people -- people like Shy, yes, but also people like Susie who supported and depend on her -- gives me pause in the same way that Dave Chapelle’s maxim on meanness gives me pause.

Despite those qualms, Amy Sherman-Palladino still knows how to write and direct the hell out of an episode. The things you love about The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel -- the snappy comic dialogue, the amusing situations, the lavish journey through 1960s New York City -- are all still there in spades. No scene in “Rumble on the Wonder Wheel” is bad. Each of them has zip and pop. Each of them will make you laugh. Most of them will endear you to these characters and their plight, whether they’ve truly earned that or not.

Not for nothing, the direction in the premiere is superb. The simple stillness of the opening shot, of MIdge in near silhouette, put into relief by the light and laughter of an adoring audience, sets the stage, before a restless camera captures the energy of her unchained, confessional set. The lighting for the goon Mei’s parents send to beckon Joel makes him extra intimidating, as does the little tango he and Joel do on their way down to the basement. And the rush of colors, movement, and subtle choreography as the camera follows the Maisels and the Weissmans around Coney Island is masterful. There were occasionally some adventurous shots on Gilmore Girls, but Sherman-Palladino and her team have continued to outdo themselves in ways both flashy and subtle since then.

That’s the thing about “Rumble on the Wonder Wheel” -- the nuts and bolts of all the scenes we see here are great. We get to check in with everyone. Susie helps Midge through her breakdown with their usual outstanding back and forth. We see how Midge’s parents, former in-laws, and kids are getting on in Queens via a hilariously rescheduled birthday in Queens. We have an interlude with Susie and her sister, Tess, trying to regain the money she’s been “holding” for Midge despite Susie’s suddenly-dramatic gambling problem (versus Herc from The Wire, no less!). We even see Joel continue his crackerjack romance with Mei, despite parental objections to their connection and Joel’s business. Almost all of it works on a scene-to-scene basis.

(The one exception is the magical realism business with Susie, where Alfie the barside magician seems to literally transport her into a picture from a calendar. Maybe the show’s going somewhere with this, but it was a strange interlude.)

Susie coaching Midge through an underwear-sporting, taxi-smashing freakout while also claiming part of the bar to sleep in lest she have nightmares is a hoot. Abe’s contretemps while the rest of the grandparents conspire to spoil their grandson on his would-be birthday are a big laugh. Susie and Tess going from an uber-friendly insurance office front to wandering down a scary cinder block hallway to be interrogated is odd but entertaining. The combative but endearing flirtations between Mei and Joel continue to help redeem a character who’s otherwise the show’s albatross with the sheer charm and cleverness of the back-and-forth. Hell, we even get a hilarious stand-off between Susie and the inimitable Mrs. Moskowitz!

But I have a few qualms about where each of these stories is going on a big picture level. The game of telephone as to who gave whom money among Moishe/Midge/Susie/Joel and others starts to get convoluted. Where the theater-criticism and match-making jobs are headed for Abe and Rose while they live with Joel’s parents remains a little opaque. The insurance fraud routine with Susie and Tess feels a little out there and sitcommy even for the heightened reality of this show. And Joel’s business being so successful that it angers his landlords who don’t want the extra attention is a...unique conflict. I’ll give it that. I don’t mind any of the moments we share with these characters, but I worry about what direction Sherman-Palladino are going to take them over the course of the season as a whole.

Then comes the piece de resistance of the episode. Smashing the whole Maisel/Weissman clan in a ping-ponging, comical series of confessions and recriminations across a ferris wheel is uproarious. It’s the kind of perfectly-paced, impeccably edited, intricately written, personal yet funny scene that Sherman-Palladino can pull off like no other. It’s worth the price of admission on its own (even if you’re overcharged by a dollar). The rapid-fire exchange of secrets that range from why Midge was fired from the tour to who borrowed money from whom to Abe having to be sold by a matchmaker is a hoot. This cocktail of the vulnerable and the absurd and the well-observed of the interrelations of this loony family is both relatable in a strange, outsized sort of way, while also clever and amusing in a way few messy family confessions are. Whatever you want to think of the long-term storytelling, the craft here is still extraordinary, and by god, it’s still funny.

But funny isn’t always a justification. Okay, it might be for a television show. Taking your characters and overarching storylines in questionable directions can be balanced out by the fact that the viewer just enjoys spending time with witty characters in an entertaining world full of quality moments and good laughs. (See also: GIlmore Girls) Nevertheless, I don’t know if it is for a character. I don’t know that Midge has learned anything from her experience at the end of season 3, beyond a desire to double down on the thing that both makes her great and occasionally gets her, and people she cares about, into trouble. I don’t know how to feel about that tack, even as I continue to enjoy the show in its season premiere.

And yet, I was miffed at the end of season 2 with how Midge dropped Benjamin without the show ever really addressing how crappy that was, or how it didn’t really make sense with what we’d seen of their relationship thus far, or how it felt like there needed to be more fallout from it than we saw. Then, unexpectedly, Benjamin showed up and at least addressed all of those things to a chastened Midge, in a way I didn’t see coming.

I can’t sit here and promise another shoe’s going to drop. Sherman-Palladino can become enamored with her protagonists and give them a little too much wish fulfillment. There’s the distinct possibility that the universe will ultimately reward Midge for her uncompromising, sometimes myopic determination here. But maybe, just maybe, she’ll start to see the nuance of what led her to this point, and the impact it has on people beyond a two-foot radius. Either way, I expect it’ll be funny.

I love that Mappa focused on what it would feel like to experience Rumbling in it close proximity. And color scheme they used in Ymir's backstory. Drawing that Thing this way was a nice touch. Voice acting and OST once again brought it to the next level, of course.

Storywise... we will see. Depends on where they gonna put ch. 123 that Mappa skipped right now.

On the one hand, I feel like this works better for anime when the Rumbling isn't interrupted by another flashback and audience doesn't feel like anime constantly hitting the brakes for the last 3 episodes. I'm mostly enjoyed the way Mappa shifted timeline of events in part 1.

On the other hand, I feel like they just forever lost heartbroken realisation of Eren's choice that Mikasa and especially Armin had in that moment. That scene on the roof felt way more powerful in the manga solely thanks to the chapter they skipped so far.

Regardless the stuff that they adapted right now - they didn't expanded the story or characters, really. So all the credit goes to the source material unlike in both previous episodes. It's solid adaptation that didn't quite live up to the hype.

On the actual downside, they once again padded for time at the start (repeat of the scene after the fight) felt unnecessary. Did not enjoyed the way they showed Eren in the paths. This sort of stuff should be transformed for different medium in my opinion. And not just by adding shaky cam to it. Expected something new from the Mappa here.
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As for episode itself. It was amazing! All my expectations were blown away. Grisha's voice actor did a fantastic job.
Not slamming Eren and Zeke voice actors, I'm just used to them doing fenomenal job every single time. It's a given at this point.

Eren's character and his consistency
I don't know would it be as divisive as it was with the manga. But I feel like this episode reception would be hinge upon willingness to embrace a new titan's power and what this episode did to Eren's characterisation.

I started to actually like Eren back in the Chapel, when he realised what a horrible thing his father did. How he doomed them all. And Eren was ready to sacrifice himself for the good of everyone else. It changed his worldview. Before, Eren was fine with the sacrifice in his name, because he was a chosen one. He was Humanity's last hope.
Now, realising that he would be the one to push Grisha to do those horrible things. He still went through with that. Seemingly not having such a difficult time convincing Grisha and himself (if he need it at all) that this is the only way forward.

And I think the episode/chapter delivered a final blow to his past. Recontextualized his actions. Eren had a normal loving family, he wasn't brainwashed. He didn't grow up in the Underground. Neither he was raised by Kenny, mind you. And yet, his first reaction was not only to find and kill the kidnappers. But think how to go about it. He even prepared improvised weapons and didn't hesitated to use them. At 9-year-old! He didn't felt remorse at the action itself, he wasn't shaking by what happened. Grisha was more horrified that he ever was. And we knew that, we saw it, we didn't question it much. Because he is the main character and they were the monsters.
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TL;DR And now Eren is back into believing that he is the chosen one and if he ever stops "Their Deaths" would be in vain. And he is the main character and the world does wants to annialate them. Situation didn't changed. And Eren sure as hell didn't. To me this character progression or deliberate stagnation felt earned. I know that, sadly, so many couldn't move past this development in the story. And felt like it was a badly executed drastic change that ruined his character. New titan's power worked as well as decision to give protagonist the power of hatred enemy, Coordinate power first use, basement reveal etc - I always thought that they were underwhelming and predictable. But the way they were excellent executed never failed to change my mind and see them as a better options for the story progression, overall.

Anime-onlys, are you alright guys?) We been there it's confusing, but kinda awesome.

Just in case, if anybody actually confused with how exactly Grisha saw Zeke. Grisha simultaneously saw the scene in the basement through Eren's eyes and his own. That's why he saw only Zeke and not Eren. He couldn't see Eren in the person. He could see himself through Eren's eyes. That's why Eren was always behind Grisha, in the moments when Grisha did looked at Zeke. Like with Frieda in the mirror back in season 3 or ch. 53
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And yes, incredibly enough in the 1st episode of season 1 or in ch.1 Grisha wasn't looking at young Eren when he talked about the basement. This small detail was already there all this years ago, back in 2009!!!
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So, neither Zeke nor Eren were physically* there.
They couldn't change the past either. It's more like self-fulfilling prophecy. Like Terminator's plot (first one) if you will. They couldn't say or do anything that would have gave them a different outcome. Or else they wouldn't be there in the first place. Or alternatively they only were there, because this specific plotline happened and that specific plotline happened this way, because they were there at the time. Chicken or the egg - type of situation.

*Nobody freaking knows how the hell hug worked... I guess they both hugged air or old excuse of "paths working in the mysterious ways". Hell, maybe anime would give us a more concrete answer... in the future? :wink:

So... let's just assume Hunt's gone... the character wasn't going anywhere, or in other words he's come full circle: starting off with flashbacks to his wartimes and and leaving guilt-ridden and with flashbacks. What's suicidal Megan going to do now?

I like Hayes - I'd have liked to see him with Meredith, I just hope he knows about her being involved with what's his name in Minneapolis (see, really bad at names).

Pleeeease, resolve that ridiculous Link-Amelia-Jo-researcher mess. I really like Link, I also like the Amelia-researcher (sorry, still didn't catch the name yet) dynamics... but Jo, all of a sudden discovering her being in love with Link, just ruins this plotthread.

New Bailey-groupie... hm... him learning how his attendings do things? Okay...

Now, the Webber-method... who didn't see this coming? Residents who think themselves so mega-capable killing someone? There's a reason why it's called supervision and "attending". Remember that episode in season 6 when Teddy sat reading a newspaper during a surgery where Cristina almost messed up? She didn't interfere, she didn't even really pay attention - but she was there, as support and essentially to jump in when things get messy. And remember that episode where Meredith and Lexie mess up that brain aneurysm-surgery because (in this case) Lexie thought she could do it herself? Yes, sometimes people mess up. But these residents need supervision. And did you notice that none of those "new" residents were so far in any way portrayed as geniuses like Meredith and Cristina (and even the others of the original 5) were? Would you actually like to have one of them operate on you without supervision (especially given the situation in-series with them not having had any surgical experience for a year)?

[8.0/10] A great start to the new season. This show is almost unrivaled at wringing comedy from the combination of the fantastical and the mundane. Obviously whether or not to kill a vampire familiar who saved your life isn’t an everyday situation for most viewers (hopefully...), but watching the Staten Island vamps debate it like roommates arguing over who should take out the dishwasher is a blast. The other vamps blaming Nandor, Nandor subtly trying to defend Guillermo, and Colin Robison doing this weird, fun fact shtick had me in stitches.

It’s also a great Guillermo episode. I love the way he’s still taking care of the vamps despite technically having his life threatened by them! Poor guy! The scenes of him sneaking out of his prison cell to do all the things needed around the house because the vamps can’t take care of themselves are a hoot. You still kind of want him to break free of all this, but there’s something so adorably absurd about him going to great lengths to look after these gothic dolts debating whether or not they should off him.

I also appreciate the twist of The Guide returning (with a video from Taika Waititi) to tell the Staten Island vamps that due to “them” killing most of the powerful New York vampires in the season 2 finale, they get to be on the Vampiric Council for the area. It’s a good storytelling choice that creates new possibilities for them, and The Guide’s low-key bafflement at their promotion, with it being “above her pay grade” is a laugh.

At the same time, I love how Guillermo realizes this is just going to make more work for him and says “FML.” Plus, there’s continued comedy in the vampires going to elaborate efforts to control Guillermo only for him to humor them after realizing their hypnosis techniques no longer work on him. And I’m particularly intrigued by Lazlo having zero interest in the council despite the other vampires jockeying to be the master.

The humor here was totally on point. Some of the gags were a little weird (mostly Colin Robinson’s barely-concealed scat fetish), but the comic timing and delivery of all involved can’t be beat, and the show has some of the best-edited comedy on T.V. The humor comes a mile a minute, and even the stuff that isn’t laugh out loud funny elicits a smile.

Overall, this was a welcome return for What We Do in the Shadows, which hasn’t lost even half a step between seasons.

Netflix loves to cancel its shows without warning, and it especially loves canceling them after 3 seasons, so I'm about 60% sure this is goodbye. But then again, Sex Education has been a huge hit for them, so I guess we might get a renewal.

If this is the series finale, it's pretty good. Unlike last season, there aren't any major loose ends left. The only storyline that hasn't been resolved is the paternity of baby Joy. Judging by Jean's reaction, it's not good news for Jakob.

As much as I disliked Hope all season, I enjoyed her conversation with Otis. It made her feel a bit more human, even if she is still deeply terrible.

The Groffs had a great storyline. I loved seeing Adam and Michael grow in their own ways. If we do get another season, I hope they explore their relationship a bit more. It's sad that things didn't work out for Adam and Eric, but maybe it's for the best. Eric clearly has some things to work through before he's ready to commit to one person. And seeing Adam discover his talent and passion was lovely. He didn't win, but he still achieved something really impressive all on his own.

I'm glad Aimee knocked some sense into Maeve. Their friendship is genuinely one of the best parts of the show. We didn't get a lot of Otis and Maeve in this episode, but if this is the end of the road, Maeve got a very fitting and satisfying ending. She finally has a family and she's off to do her thing in America. She deserves the world and finally she's getting it. And things with her and Otis are left open ended and hopeful. Even though they can't know if they'll still be right for each other when she returns, they're both willing to give it a shot. That's good enough for me.

I do hope this show comes back. I really do. There's something so quirky and unique about it, the storylines are great and the cast is excellent. It's truly a gem. But I'm keeping my expectations low just in case. Netflix has disappointed me many times before.