This has been a borderline show for me since the beginning since I turn to fiction to escape politics of any kind, not so that I can get more of it in addition to real life. But the initial premise and mystery were enough to hook me. Going into season two, it's obvious that (a) this show has an identity crisis and (b) bears little resemblance to that initial premise and that (c) the writers have no idea what to do with a bunch of additional episodes that they probably weren't expecting to get. As such, I'm literally fast-forwarding through everything in the White House -- this week's viral outbreak (that will be resolved within 42 minutes) and Confederate monuments are a far cry from bombing Congress -- at this point because it's not my thing and because I can't stand New Guy at all.
Which leaves the Hannah stuff which, while far less interesting so far than it was last year, is at least more in line with my own interests. In short, it's the stuff that could have made an interesting show on its own instead of being a small part of the bloated and generic thing that DESIGNATED SURVIVOR has become. And at this point, Hannah has learned of some ties between the First Lady's parents and some possible shady contracts or deals done as favors were called in to move the First Lady's father to the top of a heart transplant list. Not quite "Who bombed the Capitol?" stuff, but better than statues. Still, it probably would have been better to end this as a one-season thing instead of trying to extend its lifespan like this.
Home Alone is a perfect movie, not in the sense that there is zero room for improvement or it's the greatest artistic achievement in human history, but in that it does what it sets out to do in a nigh-flawless fashion. It is impeccably paced, shot, and edited. It has the right balance of escapist fantasy, relatable family drama, humor, heart, and even slapstick comedy to keep the film lively without making it a piece of fluff. And miraculously, despite a cast full of ringers like Catherine O’Hara and Joe Pesci, the whole thing hinges on the acting talents of a nine-year-old boy who pulls it off with flying colors.
Because as great as O’Hara is as the mother desperate to get back to her son, as amusing as Pesci and Daniel Stern are as a pair of robbers who get more than they bargained for, as hilarious as the inimitable John Candy (who steals the show with less than five minutes of screen time) is as a polka-playing good Samaritan, Home Alone is, first and foremost, a story about Kevin McCallister, and even at that tender age, Culkin (with a huge assist from writer John Hughes and director Chris Columbus) sells that story like a champ.
That’s part of why Home Alone works so perfectly as a family movie that plays with both kids and adults. As a child, the more outsized elements of the story loom large. The iconic scenes of Kevin tormenting his pursuers offer a spate of perfectly deployed slapstick, worthy of Looney Tunes or The Three Stooges and apt to elicit any number of giggles from the younger members of the audience. By the same token, there’s an escapist fantasy for kids in the early part of the film, where Kevin jumps on the bed, eats junk, and “watches rubbish” without anyone being able to tell him otherwise. There is an incredible sense of fun to these scenes, whether it’s the ACME-inspired antics and great physical performances of the “Wet Bandits” or Kevin living out the immediate joy of his wish to be family-free.
But what makes the film more than just an insubstantial flight of fancy is the way it mixes that holiday mirth with enough heft, enough of the downside of that wish and a stealthily nuanced depiction of a young child maturing in both his ability to take care of himself and his understanding of the world.
When we meet Kevin in the film’s frenetic opening sequence, showing an entire household abuzz with cousins and uncles all in a state of pre-travel frenzy, Kevin cannot even pack his own suitcase. There’s recurring jabs from his siblings and cousins that his mom has to do everything for him. Over the course of the film, when pressed into service by being the all to his lonesome, Kevin becomes a surprisingly self-sufficient little boy. When not smothered by a score of other siblings, he shows a surprising resourcefulness, proving himself able to go to the store, do laundry, and even leave out cookies for Santa Claus when the time arrives. This culminates in the cornucopia of traps Kevin sets for the robbers, proving that he is even capable of defending his house from those who would do his family harm.
In the process, Kevin overcomes a number of his fears, which provides another thematic throughline for the film. Chris Columbus and Director of Photography Julio Macat help this part of the story tremendously by the way a series of normal things are made frightening by shooting them from Kevin’s perspective. From the low shot on the furnace in the basement as it seems to taunt and beckon Kevin while he’s doing laundry, to the scene in the store where Old Man Marley is introduced only by his big black boots, seeming to glower down at Kevin from high above, Macat’s camera keeps us inside Kevin’s head, seeing the terror in these otherwise quotidian interactions. That cinches Kevin’s transition when he tells the furnace not to bother – we understand what he’s overcoming.
The heart of the movie, however, comes through in the scene where he conquers his other big fear – his scary looking next door neighbor, whom his brother described as a secret murderer the cops couldn’t catch. When Kevin runs into him at church, he discovers that Marley isn’t some serial ghoul, but rather a kindly old man who offers him a bit of solace and comfort in a time of need.
It’s an incredibly well-written scene, bolstered by the stellar performance of Roberts Blossom as Marley and Culkin playing Kevin at his most precocious and worldly. Blossom sells the utter warmth and humanity of Blossom behind his icy visage. His sitting next to Kevin as a friendly presence, telling a small part of his life story, and speaking to the lad as something approaching an equal provides a big leap for the film’s protagonist. It’s part of that maturation process, the realization that he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, that he can’t necessarily trust his brother’s accounts, and that the people who seem the most unnerving can be the people you want in your hour of need. In one scene, Old Man Marley goes from being the film’s great threat to being its heart.
And he ties into the other big motif running through the film – an appreciation of one’s family. What could easily be a trite Hallmark card of a message from the movie has real force from the way the lesson is delivered. When Kevin wishes he had no family, the film helps us understand why, putting him in that relatable little kid situation of causing a scene, feeling you were goaded into it, and that nobody takes treats you nicely or appreciates you. And then when his wish comes true, it takes some time to let the audience, and Kevin, revel in his newfound freedom. But it also show’s Kevin slowly but surely realizing that he misses them, and that as much as they drive him nuts sometimes, having them back is what he really wants for Christmas.
That’s why the scene and story of Old Man Marley’s estrangement with his son is so important. It’s center on the idea that the issues Kevin is dealing with – fear, family discontent, loneliness around the holidays – are not unique to him or his tender age, but are universal obstacles that people of all ages confront at various points in their life. It’s a sign of Kevin’s broadening perspective, the way he’s being changed by this experience and learns that it’s possible to love your family even when you’re angry with them.
It’s also his realization that even in those impulsive moments, whether you’re an old man or a little boy, that you make grand declarations about not wanting to be a part of your family anymore, you may soon find yourself regretting it, yearning for the thing you were so ready to give up. Kevin starts to understand this in Home Alone, and it’s why his sincere plea to one of Santa’s “messengers” (who amusingly offers him tic tacs and can’t get his car started) to bring his family back has weight and meaning.
All of this is able to come together so well because so many of the technical, or less showy parts of the film are all done extraordinarily well. John Williams’s score expertly matches the mood of the film at every turn, whether he’s playing yuletide pop classics or an orchestral score that fits a grand escape or moment of tension. The writing has a clockwork quality to it. Hughes’s script accounts for the circumstances in which a nine-year-old would left alone by himself, unable to be contacted by his parents or the authorities in a nicely plausible fashion, and he constructs a series of events in which Kevin believes he wished his family away and then wished them back in a way that is equally convincing for the kid and the viewer.
And the film is shot and edited superbly, with amusing cuts like Kevin calling out for his mother with an immediate smash cut to a roaring airplane, or the frenzied fashion in which the McCallisters are depicted racing through the airport. Every part of this film works in sync, to deliver a visually exciting, narratively sound work that lets its humor, story, and message, land without a hint of friction.
So when we reach the end of the film and see Kevin’s reunion with his family, and Old Man Marley’s reunion with his, both moments feel earned. Chris Columbus tells a nigh-wordless story in the final scene, with O’Hara’s Kate McCallister silently marveling at how great the house looks and Kevin offering an expression of reluctance, one that suggests he might still be holding onto the anger he unleashed at this mother the last time they were face to face, before quickly sliding into a smile and running to embrace her. Their expressions tell the story, of the way both mother and child now see each other differently on this Christmas Day. The same goes for the expression of gratitude, of near-tearful camaraderie, between Kevin and Old Man Marley as Kevin witnesses his new friends’ reunion with a family of his own. Everyone here has grown; everyone has taken chances despite their fears, and come out better for it.
Throughout all of this, Home Alone manages to be cute, sweet, thrilling, funny, sharp, clever, and hopeful. For films set alone the holiday, it’s all too easy to lean into maudlin sentiment or cloying comedy, but Hughes’s and Columbus’s collaboration produced a film that manages to be nimble and amusing from start to finish, with enough meaning and mirth in it to make the story told feel as important as it is small. Home Alone tells the tale of a young man learning that despite his fear, his inexperience, and his familial resentments, he’s ready to take his first step into adulthood, and finds in the process that what he needs most are the people he was afraid of or wanted to wish away.
Oh, it's so good to finally know what happened to Fitz. And I squealed with joy when I saw Hunter again. It's been so long! I've missed my dumb English son. It's absolutely hilarious to me that Fitz managed to communicate with him by insulting his favorite soccer team in a magazine. I guess it's canon that at some point in the past they decided it would be their emergency line of communication. It's so British. I'm a little disappointed Bobbi wasn't there as well, but I guess Adrianne is too busy these days working on The Orville. Good for her, she deserves it. I still miss Agent Morse though.
I'm not saying Fitz telling those military guys "They were abducted by aliens" should become a meme, but... oh wait, that's exactly what I'm saying.
I feel so bad for Polly. First she lost her husband because of his Terrigenesis, now her daughter is practically out of her reach as well. Also, I can't believe that they brought this seemingly random family from season 3 for this episode.
Enoch observing humanity for 30,000 years kind of reminds me of those creepy bald dudes on Fringe.
So if I understand correctly, Lance and Bobbi spent the rest of their lives knowing the world was going to end. Did they survive it? Did they die in the Lighthouse? Thinking about it breaks my heart.
That little Han/Leia moment with Fitz and Hunter made me cackle and warmed my heart at the same time. This is such an underappreciated brOTP.
I can't wait for the next episode. It's a shame that we have to wait two weeks for it. Oh well. Happy Holidays, I guess?
[7.3/10] “Bread and Circus” is a bit half-baked, but still entertaining enough for everything to work just about as well as it needs to. It offers one of the usual Kirk vs. Local Potentate tete-a-tetes, some great Spock-McCoy moments, and even some decent action.
Naturally, it starts with our heroes implausibly finding yet another parallel Earth. But this time, there’s a twist! It’s Rome, except it’s a modern day Rome, with automobiles and televisions but also togas and televised gladiator fights. It’s all a bit silly, even nonsensical (particularly when Spock remarks that they’re speaking English -- which is a can of worms the show would do better not to draw attention to), but it makes for an amusing setting and a decent premise, albeit one that is, contrary to Mr. Spock’s declarations, entirely illogical.
It also features another Starfleet Captain gone native. This time it’s Captain Merik who was initially stranded on the planet, but then decided he liked it so much that he not only became “First Citizen” in their Roman Society, but sent the members of his crew with reservations to fight and die in the arena. There’s much hand-wringing over that darn prime directive, particularly after Merik introduces the Enterprise’s main trio to Claudius Marcus, the “proconsul” and de facto leader of the society, whom he’s told everything.
It’s here that the episode gets a bit incoherent. There’s a bit of the standard “this isn’t our way of life, but maybe there’s merit in it” back and forth that the show does so often. Merik argues that while the gladiator games seem barbaric, but suggests they’ve been an outlet for the planet’s war-like urges and with that to blow off societal steam, there has been no war for four-hundred years. And then...later...he just changes his mind and helps Kirk escape for reasons that are super unclear.
Maybe it has to do with Claudius. Claudius’s pitch to the spacemen is that their society is a stable one, where the strong men survive, as in nature, and that the concept of other ways or alternative methods of organizing society would undo that stability. Merik appears to have some minor jealousy and/or admiration for Kirk, so seeing Kirk fight and be called a “real man” by Claudius may prompt Merik to turn on Claudius, or it may just be that seeing Kirk imperiled is enough to convince him to help Kirk leave or that this society isn’t all peaches and cream after all. The episode mostly glosses over all this stuff in the name of rough-and-tumble excitement, and it’s not a bad call.
The peak of the episode is a gladiator fight pitting Spock and Bones against Flavius, a local escaped slave who ran away after he discovered a new local and peaceful monotheistic religion, and the Roman equivalent of a red shirt. The episode cuts back and forth between Spock toying with his attacker while Bones and Flavius are trying to make their fight look convincing, and Kirk engaging in the usual “aint our society great”/“you don’t understand” pontification with Merik and Claudius. It’s a long scene, but going back and forth between the action and the observers helps pace it very nicely.
It also includes one of the best things to recommend this episode -- plenty of excellent Spock-McCoy banter. In all of the faux-Roman trappings and jumbled meditations on “might makes right” philosophy, “Bread and Circuses” takes time out to dig into the contentious but affectionate relationship between the Enterprise’s first officer and chief surgeon.
That makes the episode both funny and a little touching. It’s amusing to hear Bones jokingly lament the prime directive, noting that just once he wishes he could beam down to a new planet and claim he’s the archangel Gabriel, while Spock could only pass as the devil. Later, Spock ribs him back that he didn’t realize McCoy was trained or had any logic at all, and assumed that he just proceeded based on trial and error. And during the gladiator games (which are, amusingly enough, shot on a standard studio set), the two have a great back and forth where Spock asks if McCoy need helps as he’s being pummeled by his foe and Bones rants about how that’s the most illogical question anyone’s ever asked.
Then, in a quiet moment, McCoy tries to thank Spock for saving his life in the arena, and Spock’s curt answer sends Bones into another rant about how Spock doesn’t fear death because it would stop the human side of him from peeking out, the thing he’s so afraid of. In a devastating, well-written line, Bones declares that Spock wouldn’t even know what to do with a warm feeling if it had one. Spock blanches just a bit, and even though they fight -- McCoy calls back to the great line that even they don’t know whether they’re enemies sometimes -- they understand one another better than they let on. And Bones perceives that Spock’s frantic (by his standards anyway) attempts to get out of their prison come from a place of worry about Kirk.
Kirk, of course, is fine, enjoying the opportunity to bed one of the local slaves, adding yet another morally questionably romantic conquest to his ledger. Thankfully, up in the sky, Scotty is dancing around the prime directive, and creating a power blackout on the planet just long enough for Kirk and company to make their escape during Kirk’s would-be live execution.
Flavius sacrifices himself for thin reasons. So does Merik. But by hook or by crook, our heroes make their way back to the enterprise (relatively) unharmed. It’s there that the episode gets downright silly. While Kirk, Spock, and McCoy were puzzling at the development of these “sun-worshippers,” Uhura reveals that she’s been listening to local radio and learned something important (it’s nice to see her get one of those big “here’s the twist” moments at the end of the episode) -- that they’re actually “son-worshippers.”
That’s right! The Romans found Jesus! It’s a fairly ridiculous twist in an already ridiculous parallel development, but hey, that’s half the fun I suppose. Between the flag-waving of “The Omega Glory” and the admiring tones in which the bridge crew reflect on the spread of Christianity, it’s clear that Star Trek is upping its ‘Merica cred as it closes out its second season. Regardless, “Bread and Circuses” works best when the viewer doesn’t take it too seriously, with a fun-if-standard caper for Kirk and some great Spock and McCoy stuff that reveals that however much they butt heads, they know one another and when it counts, are there for one another.
[4.6/10] When something has a reputation for being “the worst ever” you tend to expect it to be blood-curdlingly, insanely awful. “Spock’s Brain” is not that. Make no mistake, it is still deeply stupid and dull, but it’s pretty well par for the course among Star Trek’s lesser lights, with only the ridiculousness of its premise to distinguish it.
Then again, the thought running through my mind is whether that premise was really so outlandish, or at least, whether it was out of character for the show. We’ve seen Kirk cloned, duplicated, and had his consciousness transferred into a glowing translucent orb. We’ve seen Spock trade consciousnesses with crazy men and killer robots. We’ve had Dr. McCoy figure out to do everything from cure a floppy, silicon-based creature to help a pregnant alien deliver her baby. And lord knows, we’ve seen more than a few primitive species organized by some wild, ancient computer.
So while it’s silly, to say the least, to have the latest scantily-clad alien woman blink onto the ship, harvest Spock’s brain, and deposit it into a 1960s coffee maker to run her society, it’s not dramatically sillier or all that different than the sorts of premises we’ve seen in the show before, in both great and terrible episodes.
What does make the episode truly a slog to get through is that the acting is bad from everyone. Maybe that stems from Leonard Nimoy speaking through a tape recorder rather than interacting with the other actors on set (at least as anything other than an essentially comatose living shell). He normally brings up the acting quotient for the whole show, but couldn’t muster anything here in his stilted expressions through the communicator.
But that’s true for pretty much everyone. I’m no great fan of Shatner’s acting, but he was particularly halting here. The same goes for McCoy (and I am a fan of Kelley’s acting), with there seeming to be long, awkward pauses between many of his lines. And the same goes for the variety of guest stars who, whilst going for childlike or officious, mostly hit the level of a school play.
The writing of the dialogue did the actors no favors though. I can understand the notion that writer Gene Coon (using the pen name, Lee Cronin) wanted to underline the fact that Kirk & Co. were being stymied because they could hardly communicate with the people who had taken Spock’s grey matter. But my god, “Spock’s Brian” has so many repetitive exchanges of “take me to your leader”/”we don’t understand what leader is” or “you have to restore Spock’s mind”/”no I refuse to do it.”
Nevermind the fact that this is yet another script with about half an hour’s worth of incident stretched out to double that length (which, perhaps, helps explain the repetitive dialogue). Every step of the process, from picking a planet, to finding the right cave, to speaking with the locals (Morgs and iMorgs) to finding Spock and getting his brain back in his head, includes a significant amount of fumfering around or not much happening. It’s one of those “you don’t need to write about it every time that Harry walks down a hallway, J.K. Rowling” episodes.
What I suspect is supposed to be the element that keeps the episode’s momentum up is the audience learning more about the Morg society. But we don’t really, since the episode is pretty confusing and opaque about what exactly the setup is or how it came about even after the reveal happens. The men (Morgs) live above where it’s cold and look like cavemen, and the women (iMorgs) live below in some ancient series of buildings where they have a childlike demeanor and have the usual Theiss-sewn outfits. Other than helping me understand what I assume is an amusing reference to this episode in the first season of Rick and Morty, “Spock’s Brain” doesn’t do much with that.
Kirk, of course, ends that arrangement, with his usual “we’re destroying the big computer thing and you’re going to live our way” speech to a reluctant local. There’s no society that Kirk can’t come in and “fix” with a grand sense of benevolent but haughty entitlement. I’m not saying the Morgs had the ideal arrangement, or that he should have sacrificed his first officer’s brain in order to preserve it (although there’s a utilitarian argument that could be made for that), but as usual, Kirk is awfully cavalier about totally upending another planet’s society.
Maybe that’s the thing that grounds “Spock’s Brain” into fan rage dust -- it’s a combination of some of Trek’s lamest tropes, employed with little flair or joie de vivre (beyond Kirk and Bones leering at their would-be hosts in a typically distasteful fashion). It’s another “superpowered alien” mystery, another primitive society with “backwards” ways, another grand old computer that needs to be neutralized one way or another. Repetition is nothing new on this show, but the episode really is a combination of several different things that have come before, with stultifying writing and performances to boot.
That, to my mind, is what really sinks this episode. Star Trek has done massively silly or outlandish episodes before, but if you inject enough fun or flair or even ham into them, they can at least be entertaining, even if they don’t rise to the level of greatness. “Spock’s Brain”’s biggest crime is that it’s mostly just boring. Even ignoring the implausibility of automaton Spock being guided around by remote control, or the salon hair dryer with doodads sticking out of it providing uber-advanced knowledge to build spaceship and perform brain transplants, the whole thing is just dull.
There can be a charm to bad episodes. Sometimes they are so wrong-headed or absurd that they wrap back around to being bold and captivating in their terribleness. “Spock’s Brain” never really gets there. It’s rarely bad in a roll your eyes or laugh or cringe sort of way; it mostly just makes the viewer want to change the channel, and for the most infamous episode in the whole series, I was hoping for something better in its awfulness.
[4.4/10] Welcome to Filler: The Episode. What a waste. There is so much promising material in this one, so many things that could otherwise be really cool or interesting, but it gets pretty interminable at points and so on the nose and obvious and uncomfortable in places that the entire thing falls apart. Let’s talk about the three worst scenes of the episode, two of which should be the best scenes.
The first is the one where the Platonians screw with Kirk and Spock in order to try to get McCoy to agree to stay with them. It goes on forever. We get it -- these guys are cruel and will use torture and humiliation to get what they want. Having Kirk and Spock do fifteen different varieties of some horrible or embarrassing thing does nothing to drive that point home any more. It’s a big instance where it felt like this episode was running short, and this was an easy place to put padding.
The other side of the coin is that this should have been a highlight of the episode, and not just the ironic “this is garish, entertaining garbage” sense. Seeing dignified Captain Kirk and stoic Spock have to dance and play should be, alternatively, unnerving or fun. “Plato’s Stepchildren” never really hits either mark (though their initial little jig gets a bit of it). Instead, it’s all so over the top and lengthy that it robs the sequence of any power.
The second is the scene where Kirk, Spock, Bones, and Alexander (the little person “jester” of the other Platonians) come up with the scheme to give themselves the godlike powers. On a minor note, it opens up all sorts of plot hole problems when having telekinesis would be super useful down the line, but whatever. More importantly, it is just an unending scream of exposition and repetition. Again, the thrust of the scene is clear -- we can use this chemical to out-power the bad guys. It’s a little dumb, but it’s not the dumbest treknobabble solution to a problem these three have come up with.
The rub is that they explain it and explain it and then explain it again just to make sure you understand every niggling detail. The script is flabby as hell, robbing this big solution scene of having momentum because the show gets so bogged down in explication.
Then there’s the last sequence featuring the addition of Uhura and Nurse Chapel, which has a myriad of problems. Let’s get this part out of the way first -- this is another instance of Trek using something very rape-y as an incidental plot point, and not really having the facility or tone as a series to handle it. That’s a big problem and makes a lot of those closing scenes tough to watch (and not in the way the show intended). It’s a recurring issue on the show, which is troubling, but I try to make allowances for this just being one of those Sixties things that are a little horrifying now but were taken for granted at the time. It’s still pretty rough though.
(Though hey, credit where credit is due, the scene also includes the first interracial kiss on television, so there’s that.)
But even apart from the broader social issues that scene raises, it also doesn’t work for its intended purpose. It should be horrifying to watch people forced to be sexual with one another or torture one another against their will, and in different hands, you could explore that in a really interesting way. (See: Jessica Jones). Something like turning Nurse Chapel’s dreams of being with Spock into a nightmare because of the lack of consent could be a legitimately chilling and interesting thing to examine.
“Plato’s Stepchildren” just uses it for set dressing though, just something else that escalates the danger and shows the Platonians are bad guys. We already knew that, and it shortchanges the characters at the center of the sequence. Nevermind that the lines and acting are over the top and overdone, and again, go on forever, taking away and zip or poignancy that they might otherwise have.
Again, there’s some decent material buried within the episode. I love the character of Alexander. The actor gives a good performance, and there’s some real pathos to him, being made to think he is something lesser and subject to the whims of those around him. His desire not to become a god like the Platonians but just to be taken away from them, to be anything but them, is heart-rending. The show again lays it on too thick with his attempt on the Platonian leader and Kirk’s usual effort at speechifying at the end of the episode, but there is, as usual, the germ of something good.
There’s also the germ of something worthwhile in Bones having to choose between honoring Kirk’s wishes that he not give in to the Platonians demands and sparing his friends from their torture. The decision doesn’t carry the weight that it should because the “tortures” are all so miscalibrated, but it’s a legitimate idea.
It’s also really frustrating that the episode basically squanders getting Kirk and Spock to be able to sing and dance and do other goofy stuff. They could go really fun and bonkers with the whole thing (something the show’s done in prior “everyone’s acting funny for reasons beyond their control” episodes) but instead the results just feel like a bad local talent show. Nevermind the fact that the cast’s ability to successfully mime being pulled around via telekinesis varies widely throughout the episode.
The theme of “Plato’s Stepchildren” is clear -- even people supposedly devoted to classic philosophy and the mind can be corrupted by power -- Kirk and the Platonian leader basically announce as such at the end of the episode. But it’s a trite lesson, one Star Trek has hit several times before, and the buffoonery at the center and numerous, needless reaction shots all make “Plato” feel like a thirty minute story that left the producers stalling for time. There’s some good idea and good scenes, but for the most part, this one is a mess, and a plodding mess at that.
[8.2/10] From the beginning, Rebels was always going to have a problem. If, as its title suggested, its heroes were fighting against the Empire, why had we never seen them as part of the Rebellion? If there were a pair of Jedi out there, however untrained, why weren’t they around to help Luke? If these people were such a significant presence in the lead-up to the fall of the Empire, then where were they during the Original Trilogy?
The series finale, then, had to not only answer these questions, but also to tell its own story, and come up with conclusions for its characters that not only fit them into the continuity we already knew, but fit their personal journeys that pay off all the good work Rebels has done independent of its connections to the broader Star Wars universe. It’s a tall order, to present something that both works as the culmination of four seasons’ worth of your own adventures, but also makes sense within the broader world of the franchise in which your characters are conspicuously absent.
Thankfully, this is a challenge that Dave Filoni and company are both familiar and adept at, having found satisfying exits and end points for the major figures in Star Wars: The Clone Wars which still aligned with and even improved Revenge of the Sith. The Rebels team brings that same sense of harmony here, creating climaxes and departures for the Ghost crew that match with A New Hope and beyond, while delivering their own ending.
In terms of the basic plot, that comes down to a few things that are semi-predictable for a finale. There is a gathering of allies, a final confrontation with Thrawn, and a last stand on Lothal. The Ghost crew and their cohort manage to infiltrate the Empire’s central command vessel on the planet, with the plan to take it over, launch it into orbit away from the city centers, and destroy it, thereby striking a blow against the Empire’s ability to occupy Ezra’s home. It’s a solid plan, using the gang’s sneakery and Kallis’s Imperial knowhow to round up all the stormtroopers in order to take as many out with one fell swoop as possible, that shows some cleverness and ingenuity from our heroes.
Naturally, Thrawn has other plans. He sends in Rukh to disable the vessel’s shields, leaving Ezra and company vulnerable to attack. It’s a perfectly good plot obstacle. Having the Spectres and company split up, take out a few stormtroopers, and get the shield generator going again provides a nice excuse for a bit of action and excitement. Rukh himself has been a giant waste of a sub-boss this season, but seeing Zeb risk his life to take the little hunched baddie out, and the creative way the show kill Rukh off, almost makes it worth it. Rebels has always had an action and adventure component, so seeing the team united to overcome that obstacle was right in its wheelhouse.
But Thrawn, surveying the situation from a star destroyer, has a contingency. When the shields to the vessel come back on, he turns it into a hostage situation, opening fire on the civilians below, and threatening to blow the entire planet to smithereens. The Spectres debate what to do, and with an assist from Sabine, Ezra gives them a misdirect of a plan, distracting them just long enough for him to sneak out through the vents one last time (a nice touch). He surrenders himself to Thrawn in the hopes of saving his people, the kind of sacrifice for the people he cares about that has been instilled in him by his teachers and guides.
Thrawn, in his gray villainous way, reveals that while he’s preserved what he can, he’s still going to destroy Lothal, and criticizes the Jedi for not using their power to its full potential, accusing them of lacking will and vision. It’s a perspective that matches with Thrawn’s strategic-to-a-fault qualities, and a brief debate that shows how much Ezra’s internalized about what it is to be a Jedi.
That’s a good thing, because before he knows it, Ezra is face to digital face with the Emperor, who appears, via some photographic trickery, as he did before the events of Episode III. Once again, Ian McDiarmid’s return engagement as Palpatine is an utter treat. He returns to Star Wars in the guise we know him best, as a velvet-lined tempter, promising young men the thing they want most in the world in the hopes of achieving his own malevolent ends.
He rationalizes the Empire’s reactions to the rebels, cuts the image of a kindly old man, and gives Ezra the glimpse of something he’d thought lost forever, the thing he treasured and missed more than anything -- his parents. The move seems to be a ruse to get Ezra to open the gateway to the World Between Worlds Palpatine slobbered over a few episode ago, and Rebels plays with the tension of whether Ezra, in the emotional state of seeing and hearing his parents as though they’re just on the other side, might give in.
But he makes the same choice he did before, giving up the people he misses terribly for a greater good, giving up his own heart’s desire for something bigger, and making the tough choice when he has to. It’s another moment of growth and unimaginable internal strength from Ezra, one that shows how far he’s come from the street rat who first crossed path with the Spectres.
He escapes to help his friends, but still has to deal with Thrawn and his threat to massacre the planet, so with the help of a few old friends, he calls in an unexpected calvary. Just when Thrawn seems to be unstoppable, the purgils, those hyperspace-traveling intergalactic whales, show up to save the day, causing immense havoc and decimating the Empire’s forces. It’s a nice vindication of Ezra’s connection with them specifically, and with animals generally, that’s been consistent through the series.
It’s through them that Ezra eliminates the biggest threat to the Rebels, to Lothal, and maybe to the budding Rebel Alliance. In a tense moment, the purgils gather around Thrawn’s ship, and wrap their tentacles around the man himself. Ezra is surrounded by them in his ship, and he uses his force connection to launch them, him, and Thrawn away into deep space, safely apart from the Empire, but also away from his friends.
That choice accomplishes so much. It explains Ezra and Thrawn’s absence from the original trilogy. It allows the show to keep them away without killing them off, allowing them to live in the mysterious unknown regions of the galaxy where the Lasat can have an uncharted homeworld or folks like Snoke can bide their time. It creates an exit based on a means and a connection the audience has already seen. And it creates a satisfying, but still unexpected way for Ezra to clear the way for a Rebel victory.
That’s what the purgil attack does. With Thrawn’s star destroyer whisked away, Hera, Sabine, Zeb, and the rest of their team successfully blow up the Imperial command vessel, freeing Lothal and inspiring its people to stand-up for themselves and take control. It shows that the Empire can be beaten, and while Rebels signposts it a little too hard, it’s not a victory for the Rebel Alliance; it’s a victory for the Spectres and their allies, acting without help from Mon Mothma and company, but still serving as inspiration and an embodiment of the idea that these occupiers, conquerors, and dictators could be sent packing.
The finale gives us an epilogue, one filled with more teases than conclusions. Hera, as was hinted at in Rogue One and Forces of Destiny, lives to fight and help win the war (with Chopper and Rex!), with the surprise that she has a son, heavily implied to be Kanan’s child. Zeb fights too, but ultimately gives Kallis a bit of relief and redemption by taking him to Lirasan and seeing that he did not destroy the Lasat. And Sabine stays to protect Lothal for Ezra, something all the Spectres seem to have a stake in, eventually teaming up with none other than Ahsoka Tano to go find him. They’re all happy endings largely, ones that fill in enough of the margins of the original trilogy without disrupting anything, and accounting for why we saw so little of them in the Original Trilogy.
But the core of this finale is Ezra’s choices, to say goodbye to one family, and then say goodbye to another. More than the lightsaber training, more than the connection to the Force, more than the ways of the Jedi, that is what Kanan taught his protege. He taught him the idea of sacrifice, that foregoing personal connections doesn’t have to mean Jedi detachment (or celibacy, for that matter). It can mean that even when you love people dearly, when you want nothing more in your heart than to be with them, that you do what you have to in order to save them, that you give up what you love to save it.
There is melancholy in that, having to see Ezra let go of his parents minutes before he’s forced to let go of the Spectres. But Ezra couldn’t be around for Luke’s ascendance or the Empire’s fall. That would have been a cheat (and, in truth, Ahsoka’s presence feels a bit like that). In “Family Reunion and Farewell”, Rebels finds a way to remove Ezra from the picture that not only spares his life and connects to his past and his character, but makes his exit a deliberate choice, one true not only to the person Ezra has been growing into over the course of the series, but one realizing the potential and the selflessness that his master always saw in him.
Star Wars Rebels was always going to have such exits in store. It’s inevitable, given what we know of the story that comes next. And yet, the show found a way to mesh its story with those of the broader Star Wars universe, while having its protagonist become his best self, make his hardest choices, in order to save those closest to him. It’s a fitting way to close out any Star Wars series, and a beautiful way to end this potent series, one that found its place between the lodestones of the saga, and still managed to spin its own tale from a backwater planet to the depths of the unknown regions, and fill it with characters and choices who still mattered.
Story time:
Once upon a time, Castle was my favorite show. I discovered it two years ago, and I loved everything about it. The writing. The characters. Castle and Beckett's dynamic. The way they balanced comedy and drama. It was perfect: well-acted, surprising, charming, funny, but also dark and intense when it needed to be. It was everything you could possibly want from a TV series. People say that when two main characters get together, it ruins the show because apparently established relationships are not interesting to the viewers. But in Castle and Beckett's case, it worked. It really did.
Until they decided to make Castle disappear on his wedding day in season 6 finale. That was the first time I was genuinely disappointed with the show, but I kept watching because I still loved it.
Season 7 was noticeably more forgettable than the previous ones, but it had enough good moments for me to feel somewhat satisfied. We got the wedding, they tied up the 3XK storyline (which, in hindsight, were the last two truly good episodes of Castle ever). Although Andrew Marlowe wasn't the showrunner anymore, he stuck around as a writer, and it was obvious that as long as he was there, he kept the show from going completely downhill.
And then the new showrunners took over in season 8 and destroyed everything that Castle had once been.
Season 8 was an insult to the audience. There's no other way to put it. The writing was mediocre at best and straight-up awful most of the time. Separating Castle and Beckett was unbelievably stupid. None of the new characters were likeable. Stana Katic had too little screen time, and Castle's PI business became the focus of the show. I wish I had something nice to say about this season, but there's nothing. All I feel is bitterness, and I can't imagine how people who have been watching the show since 2009 must feel. I stopped watching this trainwreck when I heard that they'd fired Stana, but I came back for the finale after they announced the cancellation. I was relieved. I hoped the show would end with some dignity. Which it didn't, but at least Beckett's alive, so I'll take it. If they'd got rid of the last shooting and made the epilogue longer, it would've been fine. But they very clearly wanted to show that they intended to kill Beckett before the series got cancelled. It was like one last slap from the writers to the audience.
I don't know if the rumors about Stana and Nathan hating each other are true. All I know is that those two seem like really nice people if their interviews and panels are anything to go by. Especially Stana has always struck me as a classy, lovely person. They appeared to be thick as thieves during their PaleyFest panel in 2012, and then, at the same event in 2013, they weren't even sitting next to each other. I can't imagine what happened between them, and we'll probably never know. But one way or another, their relationship off-screen didn't have anything to do with Castle's long-overdue cancellation. Low ratings and backlash from fans after the showrunners tried to make Beckett-less season 9 happen did.
If I decide to rewatch the show in the future (and I probably will because seasons 1-6 really were excellent, and season 7 still had some of that flair left), I'll be sure to skip the abomination that was season 8 entirely. The ending of season 7 was a better and more satisfying series finale anyway.
Goodbye, Castle. I won't miss you in the fall, and I'm sad that it had to end like this, but you were incredible once. And that's how I want to remember you.
[7.5/10] Well hey, Resistance has been on a steady upward trajectory, which is all you can really ask for, right? I like a few things about this episode in particular. First, it gives a bit of the spotlight to Neeku, who has quickly become my favorite character in the show with his good-natured literalism. The fact that he knows about the unseen members of the platform, like the “shell people” who work below most folks’ notice, and is reflexively content to helping people like Kaz and the runaway children, just makes him all the more endearing.
I also like that this episode gives us a little more insight into the First Order and its looming presence over the station. There’s some world-building going on here, and the idea that the First Order is operating in places that most people don’t know, while trying to kill all the people who would in order to maintain their secrecy, is really interesting. Presumably Tehar is near where the First Order was staging its invasion, or perhaps even building Starkiller base, which makes the whole thing mysterious and intriguing, even before the runaways mention that they escaped Kylo Ren.
And while I tire of Kaz’s naivete and generic incompetence, I do appreciate that they’re leaning into his “heart of gold” qualities here, and even showing a bit of cleverness. Him escaping the first level of the platform via a chute shows learning from his own mistakes, and the plan to fool the First Order guards with the shell folk’s hibernation trick is honestly pretty smart. There’s still some convenience in how well they manage to pull it off, and frankly how easily Kaz gets wrapped into this whole thing to begin with, but it’s centered on him trying to help people in need no matter what, which gives it some cushion. The whole message of the episode, of looking after the people below others’ notice, and having them look after you, is a strong one.
Overall, Resistance seems to be finding a rhythm, which is encouraging after its rather questionable start.
So, apparently anyone on the ship can just waltz into any quarters they like without any permission required from either the occupant or Security? I always thought the door chime on Starfleet ships was because you actually couldn't enter someone's quarters without their consent, but maybe ringing the doorbell is just good manners. But then, Neelix does require a security authorization to access Tom's computer terminal. And it works, even though "Engineering authorization Omega-4-7" shouldn't work with Neelix's voice print because he isn't (or at least, shouldn't be) in the "Engineering staff" user group. Starfleet security is, apparently, a mess.
Speaking of Engineering, why does Neelix go there for help with comm logs? Wouldn't Operations be a more logical choice? It seems like 90% of what Harry Kim does on the bridge is manage communications. Of course, the plot of this episode wouldn't work if Neelix went to Harry (because Jonas the mole wouldn't overhear him), so there's your reason. But it still doesn't quite make sense!
As unsatisfying as the resolution was, it was still nice to actually have a bit of ongoing plot for several episodes with this whole "spy on board" thing. Would have been nicer to have the spy in the ship's brig for interrogation at the end of all this, instead of him being vaporized by a plasma leak (or whatever that bullshit green smoke was meant to be). At the end of the day, though, the writers were probably quite ready to just move on from this "traitor" thing completely, and killed off the spy to avoid dealing with the aftermath.
This has always been one of my favourites. I really enjoy "bottle" episodes that just take place in our main location with our main characters. It's often the case that they end up trapped or have some mystery to solve (see also 'Disaster' over on TNG) and I just love them. I guess I like focused storytelling.
Here we have a classic situation with the main characters all trapped in various parts of the station and a countdown to destruction. Maybe one of the reasons that I like this so much is because it reminds me so much of one of my other favourite pastimes: point & click adventure games. All our characters are locked in somewhere and need to get out or survive by figuring out how to make use of the tools they have around them, which is exactly what you need to do in adventure games. In my mind I can see this playing out as a pixellated LucasArts or Sierra game from the 1990s, and I find it charming.
The episode has other things going for it, too. The situation is just crazy enough to be fun without being ridiculous, and we get interesting pairings of characters. It's not often that we see Sisko and Jake having to get out of a dangerous situation together, or see Garak come up and work in Ops. We are also given the classic Odo/Quark match up too, which we've seen a lot but never fails to be a highlight.
And then there's the wonderful Gul Dukat who comes along and just begins to enjoy himself. It's really difficult to dislike him, no matter how smarmy or condescending he's being, because he's just so damn charming and Cardassian. The interplay between him and Garak gives us a real sense of how much they hate each other. Plus, his blustering outrage at finding out that the station has turned on him as well is quite hilarious.
The ending is a bit of a let down. O'Brien is kind of useless crawling through that tube and Sisko frantically swapping out rods on a panel doesn't make for exciting viewing as we're not all that sure what he's attempting to do. It's also a shame that there's no resolution shown to us for Dukat as he departs the station, as that was where the best parts of the episode lie.
It did occur to me that Gul Dukat must have spent an entire afternoon at one point just recording video messages to account for every possible contingency on the station, and the more you think about that, the funnier it becomes.
"Bajoran workers, you have stayed out past curfew, you have 5 minutes to return to your quarters."
"Bajoran workers, you did not return to the habitat ring, your families will now be executed."
"Bajoran workers, you have spent too long in decontamination, if you do not report for work within 7 minutes a security detail will arrive to escort you."
"Bajoran workers, you have blocked a toilet in the docking ring, resolve the situation immediately or face the consequences."
"Bajoran workers, you did not resolve the blocked toilet situation in a timely manner..."
etc.
And here we have it, the real blemish on an otherwise great show and a contender for the worst episode in the whole Trek franchise. This is quite a disgusting episode for very clear reasons: it makes light of sexism, sexual assault and attempts to turn trans-genderism/gender identity into a joke. I honestly have no idea how anyone thought this was a good idea, other maybe than "it'll be funny!". It's a shame, because the episode starts with the very interesting issue of women getting equal rights on Ferenginar before becoming derailed. It also has the superb Wallace Shawn and Jeffrey Combs doing their usual excellent work.
We open with Quark, a character we've come to love through his faults, openly encouraging a female employee to perform sexual acts on him under the threat of being fired. But it's okay, right? It's meant to be funny.
Quark is forced to have gender reassignment and becomes woman. It's okay, it's meant to be funny.
We all laugh at Quark trying to act like a woman, and the way his hormones now make him feel. It's okay, it's meant to be funny.
A Ferengi male traps female-Quark in his quarters and chases her around in an attempt to have sex with her against her will. It's all very slapstick. It's meant to be funny!
At the end, it turns out that Quark's female employee actually wants to perform the work-enforced sex acts on him! Women always say yes if you're persistent enough, right? SO FUNNY!
Quark doesn't actually learn anything from his experience as a woman! Ha! Sexism wasn't ever a real thing! Oh MY!
Well, that was a ride. The episode draws from a huge amount of Trek backstory and crafts something bursting with emotion. I think that the the view of Picard's face lining up with the classic image of Locutus is one of the most arresting shots ever done in Star Trek.
Patrick Stewart is completely on form throughout, and it's hard to pick one singular moment that stood above the rest. From his anger about the Borg while speaking with Agnes, to his PTSD when first arriving on the Cube, to his genuine happiness at seeing Hugh again and all the work he's doing, this consistently feels like the Jean-Luc Picard we all knew. He's shown first hand that disconnected Borg are not the monsters he had assumed. Small bursts of moments from First Contact were used effectively, including an unexpected glimpse dof the Queen. The terror of what he experienced may never fully go away despite the strides we saw him make over the years, and it rings true.
Other random thoughts:
It's a mixed bag on this episode. IMO the Kwan Ha storyline is as irritating, yet uninteresting, as her character. She feels miscast, and as such, pulls you out of the suspension of disbelief. It's as if the writers don't know what to do with her. You could eliminate her from the show, and she really wouldn't be missed, nor would anyone notice she were gone, unless it was explicitly pointed out. Bokeem Woodbine is valiantly trying to do what he can with the little he is being given, but, he can only do so much.
Just realized that Halsey and Captain Keys are "a thing", but is Miranda their progeny? Enquiring minds and all that.
Sooo, then, the suppression pellet is apparently a GOOD thing for certain personality types who have been turned into super-soldiers. While John is still very much in control of his emotions, (save for the slip when he realized Halsey's betrayal, and of course killing the covenant soldier) and is still able to function in a combat situation, Kai became overwhelmed by hers, as she for the first time actually FELT the reality of combat. From childhood, John appears to have possessed superior physical strength, but has some repressed anger issues, which can actually HELP him in combat, while Kai experienced a form of shell shock where she just shut down. Just an observation.
Hmmmm, is the little artifact the remote control for the larger one? Or, is it more of a Fat Man, Little Boy scenario?
Makee is such an obvious plant that IRL she would be immediately Mozambique'd and left on a pike as a warning! But, that's just me.
And that's it. The last episode of For The People. Possibly the best Shondaland show, at least the one with the most potential. A potential that I think was squandered by the decision to make its second season only ten episodes. Even though the writers tried their very best to make the short run as meaningful as possible (and were very successful, never more so than in this finale), the characters and arcs as set up by the first season were always going to feel neglected and diminished by the lack of space given to them. For the People had an amazingly engaging ensemble, perfect for its idealistic, hopeful take on the legal procedural (the diametric opposite to the soapy cynicism of Scandal and How To Get Away With Murder). The thing is, though, you can't be a procedural and a character drama if you only have 10 episodes a season, not with eight (or even ten) characters given equal weight. I have no idea whether audiences would have engaged enough for ABC's liking if the second season had been 22 episodes, but I'm pretty sure I would have been able to remove that "possibly" from "possibly the best Shondaland show". I don't want to take anything away from what the folks in front of and behind the camera did with what they were given, though. They swung big, and hit more than they missed.
So, I think this one border on being the same level as good as the premiere and slightly below it. I can definitely understand the criticisms about the future scenes more in this episode where it felt like a lot of time was spent not in the leap. I'm going to keep in perspective though that this show is different from the original. I will also say that I do like that it shows what is going on in the effort to bring Ben home considering it never really felt as active an effort on the original.
The leap itself was definitely interesting just for the fact that it took place in space. However, I feel like it would've been better if Ben had leapt into Stratton instead. She was really the main driving force of the episode and it felt like Ben was just there to back her up. If he leapt into her though, it would've played more into the dynamic set up between Reynolds and Stratton.
I am still excited to see where the series heads and what we have to look forward to in the future. The next one seems to be a boxing episode and I like that it seems that Ben is going to have to learn about boxing instead being a pro at it. Sometimes, it felt ridiculous how OP Sam could be at times.
Count me in the minority that thought that this show as mostly OK. I enjoy doomsday type shows, I think you can teach yourself things about that possible outcome and postulating on what you might do or not do in the same situation.
There is a very heavy agenda-driven underlying theme of this show that detracts from everything.
The show is basically about what the world would do if the oil was all contaminated, that's fine, it's worth wondering. The problem is that the show ends on that all of this suffering was worth it because the world is so much more amazing when oil isn't in the picture any longer. They fail to showcase the fact that there would probably be a 90% die off of humanity from hunger, violence, lack of medical care and so forth, but it's all worthwhile because no more oil. The better outcome should be that they fix the oil but realize we rely on it too much and allocate far more resources to supplementing it and thus find a happy balance, but the climate nuts can't have that, it must be that oil is the root of all evil.
Will I ever watch this again? No, most certainly not (especially after the unicorn and rainbow ending). Do I regret watching it? Not really, it was an interesting piece of fantasy to replace an otherwise crappy TV schedule that hasn't seen hardly any worthwhile shows in several years.
I did realize that it's not that I didn't like Matthew Fox in Lost, I just don't like him at all, in anything. He has no depth, he's just being himself and repeating some lines, that is the extent of his limited acting skills. I mean, good for him, I can't act so he's better than me, but he's not on par with other excellent actors out there either - far from it.
