507: 'The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham'
Wr: Damon Lindelof & Carlton Cuse
Dr: Jack Bender
Synopsis: Locke's fateful mission off the island as Jeremy Bentham is revealed.
Review: As if one week of exaggerated platitudes wasn't enough, now the TV.com forums are awash again with the sound of voices hyperactively screaming from the rooftops. "OMGLOLZ best episode EVA!!!", they tend to bellow, clicking the '10' button on the 'rate this episode' poll and sending the average score to an all-time high: at the time of writing, it sits neatly atop the pile with a remarkable 9.7. Doubtless this will change, and probably decrease, as the hours and days roll on and a more considered semblance of sanity creeps in, but there's certainly somethijng to be said for the quality of an episode that engenders such unprecedented excitement. It's not the greatest hour of the show - in fact, it's not the best this season either - but it's unquestionably something a little special. It doesn't reveal a great deal (although there are a couple of huge explanations) and essentially, the story coasts along at a leisurely pace, not doing much that hasn't already been inferred elsewhere. However, the important factor here is engagement, which is not the exclusive property of unpredictability. It can also be sustained through strong writing, characterisation and acting, all of which 'The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham' has in spades.
This is Terry O'Quinn's chance to shine and boy, does he. From his emotional reconciliations with Kate to the pre and post aborted suicide attempt sequences with Ben, every word, every sentence, every nuance of his performance is nothing other than pitch perfect. More than any other cast member, O'Quinn is the character he is portraying, so much so that I find it hard to beleive that I ahve ever watched him in anything else, let alone engaged with him as a recurring character on Millennium for three years. Just check out his body language when he's talking about Helen: something as simple as a persistent gaze towards the floor or a searching, irritated set of minor gesticulations sells the psychological enormity of his feelings to the viewer. The dialogue is barely even needed; so much is said in his external reaction. Then there's the marvellously executed scene with Jack, in which our central heavyweights duke out the science vs. faith dichotomy one more time only, on his occasion, Locke actually gets a chance to suckerpunch his counterpart with something concrete. The writing is astonishing here, building logically and tragically towards John's ultimate suicide attempt. With each and every encounter the man is pumelled further and further into the ground by those that he so clearly cares about and Jack's vocalisation of the sort of internal doubts and self-loathing that you just know run through Locke's head ("you're just a sad, lonely old man", "you're not special" etc.) is the final straw. However, it is certainly rewarding to see the beginning of Jack's comeuppance and descent further into darkness when Locke reveals that Christian spoke to him. Matthew Fox is brilliant here, subtly demonstrating the conflict that clearly now resides within his character.
And then, of course, there's Ben. Hats off to all involved in this one: it is a strong contender for best scene of the season. In fact, I'll throw my towel into the ring and say yeah, this is the greatest thing I've seen Lost spew at us so far this year. Perhaps the most effective and well written piece of character interplay since Mr. Linus squared off against Mr. Widmore in 'The Shape of Things to Come' last year. Inevitably, when you throw O'Quinn and Emerson together in an emotionally charged situation, sparks are going to fly but just look at how brightly they burn. O'Quinn sells Locke's self-doubt and frustration amazingly well and the juxtaposition of this, the man at the end of his rope (literally) with the man desperately trying to piece everything back together for his own engame, works wonders. There are so many levels to the scene: first, you have a concerned individual trying to prevent another's death. The viewer sympathises with Locke and clearly wants him to survive, so is rooting for Ben's words to ring true. Second, the paradigmatic dramatic irony established at the culmination of the previous season, and qualified last week, keeps us questioning the outcome: we are certain that Ben won't convince Locke because we know he commits suicide... or do we? Could there be some other way in which he dies? Pretty soon, once he begins to step down from the table, we're questioning whether the bloke was ever dead at all and wasn't just put in a deep coma and bundled into a coffin for show. The awareness of locke's inevitable passing casts additional aspersions onto the scene and has you searching for answers, mistrusting the course of the narrative that is apparently unfolding before you. And finally, you have Ben's motivation, the viewer's understanding of his duplicitous nature which feeds into the dramatic irony and ensures thta you're questioning his intentyions as he's speaking, contesting the validity of his words. In effect, the scene co-ordinates something of a brainstorm in the viewer's mind, ensuring that the variously ambiguous features of the narrative are bounced off one another and therefore generate a great deal of thought and, crucially, engagement.
There's certainly pause for thought elsewhere too. The revelation that Widmore is the vessel through which Locke catches up with his old friends is hugely intriguing and both reinforces and strengthens the prominence of the Ben/Charles binary, the question of whose side is 'right', if either, in this mini-characterial war. On this theme, Ben's shocking execution of Locke ensures that the possibility that the previously established 'evilness', if you will, of Alan Dale's character is a misinterpretation is given considerable validity. There seems to be a large amount of debate online regarding Linus' reasons for doing away with the Island's supposed leader and while I will reserve judgment for now and see what Lindelof and Cuse deal out later, my suspicions err on the side of concern about the depth of Widmore's knowledge of Elouise Hawking. As Ben's recruit, he would wish to protect her from Charles as she provides the only way back to the Island. Still, this is merely conjecture and it's rare that I'm ever right about these things... what I will congratulate myself on, however, is knowing exactly what was going on in the opening scene from the get go thanks to recognising Cezar's face from the airport scene in '316'. Nevertheless, this narratalogical structure is a wonderful way of weaving the story together and, thankfully, prevents the episode from simply being one giant flashback. There's much to ponder in all of this too: the unresolved nature of the boats, Lapidus and 'the woman', the fact that it appears that the flight came down on the other Island (supported by the fact that Locke can see an Island from his vantage point)... you know, the one with the Hydra station on it. I'm of the belief that this new bunch of Losties are in the Island's present, wherever that may be in the world (somewhere near Guam!), while the Oceanic Six are in its past, in a time when the DHARMA Initiative is active, as the boats that appeared in 'The Little Prince' are here and these have already been established as part of the Sawyer/Juliet etc. Losties' future. Thus, the scene from 'TLP' will occur soon, in which we see whomever was in the boat that appeared to be shooting at our heroes. Probably.
'The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham' is clearly an important steppings tone in the arc of Lost's fifth season. It solidifies the return of all the key players to the Island (or, at least, somewhere near it) and removes the question mark that was hanging over just what Locke did when he 'became' that other English philosopher. It throws a number of fantastic scenes at us that perfectly illustrate the depth and breadth of the acting and writing quality on the show and offers up more than a few shockers too, from Widmore's involvement with Locke to John's apparent resurrection (I'm going to enjoy seeing this one explained) to, best of all, Ben murdering the guy. And inamongst all of that, there's a flurry of questions regarding the survivors of the Guam plane's crash and their presence in the timeline to ponder as well. Oh, and the return (and summary execution) of CREEPY AGENT BROYLES from Fringe and, shock of shocks, Walt. It isn't the best episode ever, no matter what the forums might have you believe: there are a couple of small moments that drag slightly, but it's fantastic all the same. Just like last week. Damn, I need some new material. 9.3
Friday 27 February 2009
Thursday 26 February 2009
Wendy and the troublesome refund form.
Being unemployed has its benefits (see what I did there? Chortle chortle...) I can spend all the hours of the day scribbling down as much inane doggerel as I wish without being clipped around the ear and told to "get the hell on with QAing that batch of analysis". Or something. I also get any dental treatment absolutely, unequivocally, stonkingly free. Fork out a ludicrous £181 for a crown? Pah! Not on your nelly. I'm on Jobseekers, I don't do payment. Except actually, yeah, I do. I had to pay the extortionate sum up front, after having been told that I didn't have to, at the end of my treatment and now I can claim a refund. Well... okay. I'm not happy about it but at least, in the end, about seventeen years down the line, I'll get it back. Fine. So I was handed a form, an HC5, told to fill it in and, as per the detailed instructions on it, send it to my local Job Centre, which I had an appointment at this morning anyway. Thus, I took it along. When I broached the subject with the advisor I was speaking to, he had no idea what to do. All right, so maybe this is a specialist area. He asked for assistance from a colleague. They hadn't a clue. After five minutes of pontificating, I was directed to the front desk. The security guy I spoke to referred me to a woman called Wendy who has an office of her own, the lucky so and so, not one of these desks in an open plan room that you're called to to discuss employment possibilities. She recalled having had an e-mail about this very subject but had no idea when it was received, who it was from or even what it said. Well, there's a woman who's proficient at her job. She even remarked to me, "It's probably one of those things where you just don't expect anyone to actually do it." Riiiight. So you're telling me no one claims these costs back? She's never dealt with something like this before? Hmm... anyway, so I waited. And I waited. And I waited. Half an hour went by, she tootled backwards and forwards around the office, walked past me again, apologised for the delay and then said "I'm liable to knock your teeth out in a minute." Now, okay, so she was joking but the comment betrayed her evident frustration at having to deal with my inquiry. I kept schtum, of course, smiled and reassured her that it was no bother. I didn't mind sitting around, twiddling my thumbs while she attempted to discover just what to do with this refund form. Ten more minutes passed. Ten more. Finally, 53 minutes after having first plonked my backside on the chair outside her office, she reappeared and told me that she'd rang the NHS helpline and they'd informed her that... drum roll please... I need a different form. Well, that's just great. So now, they're sending me an HC5D (whatever that is) through the post, I have to fill that in and... second drum roll... take it to the Job Centre. Where, no doubt, Wendy will have no idea what to do with it.
It's all a conspiracy, I tell you. Bloody corporate dentist fatcat scum.
It's all a conspiracy, I tell you. Bloody corporate dentist fatcat scum.
Wednesday 25 February 2009
Review: Heroes 317
317: 'Cold Wars'
Wr: Christopher Zatta, Joe Pokaski & Aron Eli Coleite
Dr: Seith Mann
Synopsis: HRG and Matt are thrust into a series of mind games to uncover the truth about Nathan's plans. Peter gets to meet The Hunter in person.
Review: Remember season one? The supposedly hallowed days of yore in which Heroes was a refreshingly engaging take on the conventional 'superhero' narrative, full of lively, interesting characters, wonderful cinematography and boundless narrative possibility? Remember those days? Of course you do, fandom: it's all you've whined on about for the past five months. The production staff remember those days too; so well, in fact, that they have the self-aware tenacity to make the seventeenth episode of the show's third season an homage to the seventeenth episode of the freshman year, right down to the story focus, directive style and everything! Clever, huh? Shame it's not so much of an homage as a retread, trying its best to replicate the success of the phenomenal 'Company Man' but lacking some of the crucial ingredients. Still, this is what you wanted guys... you've got no one to blame but yourselves.
Perhaps pointing the finger of blame at the viewing audience is slightly harsh. After all, if the writers can't recapture the magic that used to be so inherent in the show, that's largely their problem. Still, as I illustrated last week, asking a programme to turn back when the natural course of any story's tide is to go forward seems rather counter-productive and is only going to lead to a fruitless uphill struggle. Take HRG's step up to the plate here as an example. 'Cold Wars' takes a story format that proved hugely lucrative back in the day and attempts to use it to expand and progress the current plot. Unfortunately, where in 'Company Man', opening the viewer's eyes to the history of the man with the dodgy glasses was completely unexpected and provided us with necessary exposition to advance the narrative - we had no idea where the guy's allegiances lay back then, how the Company was founded, how Claire was given to him and so on - there is nothing of any consequence in the flashback sequences we are presented with here. Oh sure, it all looks rather nice in delicious black and white (certainly a neat touch) and there are some well executed character beats in the dialogue, particularly between Bennet and the Hunter, whose smarmy, sinister self-obsession and inherent blinkered malice becomes ever more delectable with each passing scene (go Zelkjo, go Zelkjo), but really, what is the point? Detailing the process by which Nathan recruited HRG and he came to help set up the operation adds nothing at all to the central premise because the information we are treated to has been already been suggested in the dialogue in the preceding episodes.
Virtually nothing new is revealed here. There is no benefit in the sequence in which Nathan shows up on Bennet's doorstep other than to showcase Seith Mann's ability to nicely film a scene with an oscillating camera. The many encounters with the Hunter essentially replay the dichotomy that we saw play out between the two in 'Trust and Blood'. And okay, so perhaps there is something to be said for understanding HRG's personal machinations, his inability to return to the comfort of family life. The first scene with Angela is arguably the most effective of them all because it addresses something that is not immediately apparent from the extraneous narratology. It's a pity, then, that the revelation that Bennet is working against the occupants of Building 26 with Mama Petrelli falls utterly flat as it's been inferred to too great a degree since the start of the volume. Unfortunately, the other big 'reveals' in the flashback sequences are also damp squibs. Mohinder's awareness of the governmental plan is the only trope that's remotely unexpected but it is played out with such little gravitas in the scene and against so much dull interplay between HRG, Nathan and the Hunter that it doesn't have the desired effect. And as for Daphne being alive... can I get one huge "meh"? I was pleading for them not to do this, not to back track and resurrect yet another bleeding character but, alas, it seems njo one we care about will ever stay dead in the Heroes universe. It's tiresome, it's lazy and, above all, it's insulting to the viewer. Oh and furthermore, it negates the impact of any future culling as we won't be willing to accept it. When oh when oh when will they learn?
Apparently, not before the end of the episode. Putting aside the continued contrivance that is having Matt suddenly be able to paint the future ("oh, but he's a prophet!", I hear you cry. Um, how? Why? Whatever for?!), what exactly was the thought process behind having he and Petrelli return to Isaac's loft? Surely, if they wished to remain incognito, they'd head somewhere a little less, oh I don't know, blatantly obvious?! Somewhere that Nathan and HRG aren't aware of and wouldn't logically be surveilled? As one TV.com reviewer noted, the place has been an apartment, Company base, 'Mohinder's house of horrors' and now, apparently, it's an art studio again? While the reappearance of popular show staples can be pleasing and rewarding experiences for the long-term viewer, they need to be believable and organic in order to be convincing. This is neither. Sadly, this isn't the biggest problem with the scene: no, it's what comes in the very last moments that is truly objectionable. Matt, strapped with explosives, ready to suicide bomb (presumably, although it could be orchestrated by some other means) himself into oblivion? Okay, there's something slightly intriguing there. But a painting on the floor of an exceptionally large explosion, obliterating a city? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. And no. Again. How many times is Heroes going to revisit this plot thread before the writing staff realise that they've turned it into the worst possible kind of cliché? It was engaging in season one because it was original; this is the third time since that we've seen it reoccur. It's older than my great granddad's family album and generates no interest whatsoever. The only reason I can conceive of for the production crew's apparent love of TEH EXPLOSION! is that the artistry looks kinda nifty. But cool drawing does not a satisfying story thread make.
Much as with 'Building 26', 'Cold Wars' is a victim of the show's shift in direction. There are some good moments, particularly in the character interplay between Mohinder, Parkman and Peter (Greg Grunberg is excellent as an infuriated Matt) and also in HRG's scenes with the Hunter, but overall, the decision to attempt to 'recapture' the elements that proved so successful in season one hampers rather than helps the episode's quality. Instead of attempting to imbue the character stories with original, engaging ideas, the writing staff return to strategies that they've successfully deployed before but where, initially, they were original and exciting, now they are simply tired and old hat. The attempt to echo the flashback narratology of 'Company Man' fails due to its lack of something to say and, most worryingly, the decision to reintroduce one of the most overdone tropes in the series' history at hour's end merely proves frustrating due to how achingly familiar it is. This is another casualty of a very vocal fandom's often exaggerated objections and while it isn't exactly bad per se, its sheer averageness is more than a little depressing. 6.6
Wr: Christopher Zatta, Joe Pokaski & Aron Eli Coleite
Dr: Seith Mann
Synopsis: HRG and Matt are thrust into a series of mind games to uncover the truth about Nathan's plans. Peter gets to meet The Hunter in person.
Review: Remember season one? The supposedly hallowed days of yore in which Heroes was a refreshingly engaging take on the conventional 'superhero' narrative, full of lively, interesting characters, wonderful cinematography and boundless narrative possibility? Remember those days? Of course you do, fandom: it's all you've whined on about for the past five months. The production staff remember those days too; so well, in fact, that they have the self-aware tenacity to make the seventeenth episode of the show's third season an homage to the seventeenth episode of the freshman year, right down to the story focus, directive style and everything! Clever, huh? Shame it's not so much of an homage as a retread, trying its best to replicate the success of the phenomenal 'Company Man' but lacking some of the crucial ingredients. Still, this is what you wanted guys... you've got no one to blame but yourselves.
Perhaps pointing the finger of blame at the viewing audience is slightly harsh. After all, if the writers can't recapture the magic that used to be so inherent in the show, that's largely their problem. Still, as I illustrated last week, asking a programme to turn back when the natural course of any story's tide is to go forward seems rather counter-productive and is only going to lead to a fruitless uphill struggle. Take HRG's step up to the plate here as an example. 'Cold Wars' takes a story format that proved hugely lucrative back in the day and attempts to use it to expand and progress the current plot. Unfortunately, where in 'Company Man', opening the viewer's eyes to the history of the man with the dodgy glasses was completely unexpected and provided us with necessary exposition to advance the narrative - we had no idea where the guy's allegiances lay back then, how the Company was founded, how Claire was given to him and so on - there is nothing of any consequence in the flashback sequences we are presented with here. Oh sure, it all looks rather nice in delicious black and white (certainly a neat touch) and there are some well executed character beats in the dialogue, particularly between Bennet and the Hunter, whose smarmy, sinister self-obsession and inherent blinkered malice becomes ever more delectable with each passing scene (go Zelkjo, go Zelkjo), but really, what is the point? Detailing the process by which Nathan recruited HRG and he came to help set up the operation adds nothing at all to the central premise because the information we are treated to has been already been suggested in the dialogue in the preceding episodes.
Virtually nothing new is revealed here. There is no benefit in the sequence in which Nathan shows up on Bennet's doorstep other than to showcase Seith Mann's ability to nicely film a scene with an oscillating camera. The many encounters with the Hunter essentially replay the dichotomy that we saw play out between the two in 'Trust and Blood'. And okay, so perhaps there is something to be said for understanding HRG's personal machinations, his inability to return to the comfort of family life. The first scene with Angela is arguably the most effective of them all because it addresses something that is not immediately apparent from the extraneous narratology. It's a pity, then, that the revelation that Bennet is working against the occupants of Building 26 with Mama Petrelli falls utterly flat as it's been inferred to too great a degree since the start of the volume. Unfortunately, the other big 'reveals' in the flashback sequences are also damp squibs. Mohinder's awareness of the governmental plan is the only trope that's remotely unexpected but it is played out with such little gravitas in the scene and against so much dull interplay between HRG, Nathan and the Hunter that it doesn't have the desired effect. And as for Daphne being alive... can I get one huge "meh"? I was pleading for them not to do this, not to back track and resurrect yet another bleeding character but, alas, it seems njo one we care about will ever stay dead in the Heroes universe. It's tiresome, it's lazy and, above all, it's insulting to the viewer. Oh and furthermore, it negates the impact of any future culling as we won't be willing to accept it. When oh when oh when will they learn?
Apparently, not before the end of the episode. Putting aside the continued contrivance that is having Matt suddenly be able to paint the future ("oh, but he's a prophet!", I hear you cry. Um, how? Why? Whatever for?!), what exactly was the thought process behind having he and Petrelli return to Isaac's loft? Surely, if they wished to remain incognito, they'd head somewhere a little less, oh I don't know, blatantly obvious?! Somewhere that Nathan and HRG aren't aware of and wouldn't logically be surveilled? As one TV.com reviewer noted, the place has been an apartment, Company base, 'Mohinder's house of horrors' and now, apparently, it's an art studio again? While the reappearance of popular show staples can be pleasing and rewarding experiences for the long-term viewer, they need to be believable and organic in order to be convincing. This is neither. Sadly, this isn't the biggest problem with the scene: no, it's what comes in the very last moments that is truly objectionable. Matt, strapped with explosives, ready to suicide bomb (presumably, although it could be orchestrated by some other means) himself into oblivion? Okay, there's something slightly intriguing there. But a painting on the floor of an exceptionally large explosion, obliterating a city? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. And no. Again. How many times is Heroes going to revisit this plot thread before the writing staff realise that they've turned it into the worst possible kind of cliché? It was engaging in season one because it was original; this is the third time since that we've seen it reoccur. It's older than my great granddad's family album and generates no interest whatsoever. The only reason I can conceive of for the production crew's apparent love of TEH EXPLOSION! is that the artistry looks kinda nifty. But cool drawing does not a satisfying story thread make.
Much as with 'Building 26', 'Cold Wars' is a victim of the show's shift in direction. There are some good moments, particularly in the character interplay between Mohinder, Parkman and Peter (Greg Grunberg is excellent as an infuriated Matt) and also in HRG's scenes with the Hunter, but overall, the decision to attempt to 'recapture' the elements that proved so successful in season one hampers rather than helps the episode's quality. Instead of attempting to imbue the character stories with original, engaging ideas, the writing staff return to strategies that they've successfully deployed before but where, initially, they were original and exciting, now they are simply tired and old hat. The attempt to echo the flashback narratology of 'Company Man' fails due to its lack of something to say and, most worryingly, the decision to reintroduce one of the most overdone tropes in the series' history at hour's end merely proves frustrating due to how achingly familiar it is. This is another casualty of a very vocal fandom's often exaggerated objections and while it isn't exactly bad per se, its sheer averageness is more than a little depressing. 6.6
A sign of the times.
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But I need to know what Minor Childhood Friend #23's latest status update is! Aaaagghhh!!!
*rips hair out*
But I need to know what Minor Childhood Friend #23's latest status update is! Aaaagghhh!!!
*rips hair out*
Tuesday 24 February 2009
Review: 24 710
710: '5pm - 6pm'
Wr: Manny Coto & Brannon Braga
Dr: Milan Cheylov
Synopsis: Dubaku's attempt to flee the country is cut short when his decision to take his girlfriend along proves to be his undoing, and leads to a breakthrough for Jack and Renee. The moles within the FBI are uncovered when Chloe's decryption skills are put to the test by Sean who attempts a last-ditch effort to save himself.
Review: Ask any self-respecting 24 fan and they'll tell you that the first compromise you have to make as a viewer of the show is to let all notions of believability fall by the wayside. While the production staff essentially made it difficult for themselves from the get go by making the bloody central concept that all the action occurs in real time, they quickly realised that some of life's more irritating roadblocks - traffic, distance, procrastination - would have to be circumnavigated if they were to successfully compose an entertaining show. So, instead of showing the 46 minutes it would actually take for a driver to get from A to B in rush hour traffic, they cut it all down to about 7 minutes tops and hope that you'll just accept the contrivance... and, let's face it, more often than not, we would rather do so than endure the mind-numbing boredom that would more closely reflect reality. So, on this theme, there's a moment in '5pm - 6pm' in which a police officer helicopters an important piece of information to FBI HQ in less than five minutes. Never mind the distance, would it even make it into the Director's hands in that short a timeframe? Surely it would go through a complicated screening process first? But then, we swallow the pill because it moves the plot forward, keeps the tension high and ensures our viewing experience is a riveting one. Problem is, there's a rather large number of these contrivances in this particular hour and it has a knock on effect on its quality.
Sticking with the policeman, really, would Jack hand this highly volatile, ultra-classified data stick to a member of Metro PD and trust it to get to the head of FBI DC where there's a bloody government conspiracy going on?! Okay, I buy that it perhaps doesn't infiltrate the local agencies but Bauer's placing a whole lot on chance to expect the guy not to be intercepted before he gets to Moss. Surely he'd trust no one other than himself in such a dangerous situation? And then there's the small matter of the data stick itself: sure, placing it inside yourself is a guaranteed way of keeping it safe but can anyone say 'been there, done that, bought the T-shirt'? Remember the Coral Snake dude in season 2? Same scenario. The moment loses any power it may have had because it is just so damn predictable. And how about the magical Epinephrine, the drug that wakes everyone and their uncle up from SERIOUS TRAUMA and conveniently allows us to acquire the information we need? I am willing to accept this, I suppose, but it just seems rather rushed: Dubaku's giving up his only leverage within seconds of coming back around! All it takes is for Bauer to threaten his family and whoop, dastardly plot over. Is this going to be Jack's answer to everything to this season? Get to the wife and kid: they'll solve it all for us! How about a terrorist who is willing to sacrifice his loved ones? Or one with no ties at all? Don't make it so damn easy!
There are problems elsewhere too. While the introduction of Erica into the inter-agency conspiracy is nicely handled as it is purely organic, worked into a natural conversation with Sean at the start of the episode that doesn't contain exchanges like "what do you want?" "Well, I'm part of this conspiracy Sean, I have been from the beginning, I helped you, I orchestrated everything, I demand to know what's going on!" but instead, throws you off a bit until you realise that, yes, the bitch's dirty too, its context is so utterly ludicrous that it loses some of its magic. These two have a conversation about their duplicitous, highly illegal activities AS THEY WALK FROM SEAN'S DESK TO A COMMUNAL REST AREA AND THEN BACK AGAIN! Oh come on! I suppose there's something to be said for 'hiding in plain sight' but this is just ridiculous. Anyone in the local area, not just immediate earshot, would be able to hear what they're saying... and what they're saying is thoroughly incriminating. You'd find somewhere to meet... go outside for a fag, find a broom closet, anything! It considerably weakens the scene, making it come across as poorly thought out and arguably a little rushed (a common theme of the hour, it seems). The remainder of the duo's plot is generally well executed, with a prominent sense of urgency and fear coming across at all points and a lovely moment of conniving backstabbing in which Sean brutally murders his lover (this is wonderfully shot), but the comedy lingers around in the background as first, there is the absurdity of the CREEPY, BLACKENED SERVER ROOM WITH NO SURVEILLANCE and then, after the systems are wiped and they lose all their data in a fantastically catastrophic moment, Chloe fixes it all within minutes! And worse, she actually says, "don't ask me how I did it"! Talk about your deux et machinas... she mumbles something incomprehensible about 'mirrors' and we're supposed to just accept that her innate genius has saved us all again. Um, no. Ms O'Brien has stopped being a character of her own and has turned into a plot device on legs: one that can be brought out of the woodwork whenever there's a messy technological problem to sort out and she'll do it in an instant. How about she doesn't fix things for once? How about they have to work against the odds to resolve a problem? It's just too damn convenient and, while I appreciate that the writers are keeping their feet firmly on the accelerator and trying to ensure that we are being fed plot, plot and more plot rather than unnecessary 'emotional' distractions (which I am very pleased with, by the way), there are better, less absurd ways of doing so than this.
'5pm - 6pm' is an interestingly structured episode in this regard. Coto and Braga's script essentially ties everything up by around 17:46; we have Dubaku in custody, Sean and Erica exposed, the President back in the White House and the list of people involved in the government conspiracy revealed to the good guys. Consequently, as a few self-reflective, emotive sequences play out, the viewer is encouraged to begin thinking about just where they're gonna go next. With fourteen hours left, there's no way on Earth that all we're going to see is Bauer preparing for his trial and the President crying over her sick husband. Something has to happen. And as the clock ticks ever closer to the closing minutes of the hour, we begin to expect that it'll be a sudden, shocking cliffhanger that changes everything around... and then, pleasingly, it's not. Our expectations are shattered. Jack sits on some steps and looks out over a beautiful sunset (at 5.56pm... as it is EVERY SEASON!! Why must the 'longest days of Jack Bauer's life' always occur in late Winter?!) and EVIL TONY comes and sits beside him, ready to tell him about an impending second attack, initiated by Tony Todd, sorry General Juma, himself. Well, that was nicely timed, wasn't it? While I accept that this turn in the narrative has to happen, and I'm fine with the nature of the impending trajectory (especially when it is tied back to the Senator who was grilling Jack in the opening episode... he's a fabulous actor, good to have him back), did it really have to occur just when everything else was resolved? Oh, we've got a clean slate so... Tony must show up and muddy it! That's not how life works guys and it's not something I'm willing to overlook when it can be so easily resolved in a believable manner. Have Tony turn up at the start of the hour instead. Have him complicate matters even further while the other action is still going on. It'd increase the tension manyfold. Sure, it wouldn't allow Jack to sit on some steps and contemplate life, love and the pursuit of ELTON JOHN'S OSCAR PARTIES, but do we even need this at this stage of the game? Is it not better left until the closing hours of the season? And just how did Tony know where Jack would be anyway, huh? Hmph.
You wouldn't know it from what you've just read but there's some excellent material in this episode and it's largely character based. Cherry Jones is top notch as the grief-stricken President again, Jeffrey Nordling plays Moss' anger and frustration to perfection and Kiefer Sutherland and Annie Wersching are given some beautiful material to work with in the Bauer/Walker dynamic. The scene in the hospital, in particular, is absolutely excellent: thankfully, Renee's emotional outburst is not merely followed by a moment in which the heroic, all-knowing man comforts her, but is supplemented with an additional beat that returns their relationship to a very cold place when she counters Jack's "you'll learn to live with it" with a very sharp "I don't want to live with it." Much more believable and far more emotionally complex and interesting. Plus, she gets to slap Bauer! Three times! And gets away with it! That's surely unprecedented. The first twelve minutes of the episode are superbly executed too, with the direction, cinematography and music coming together to create an intensely dramatic chase sequence and aftermath. It's all in the little touches here, like Jack screaming "get back in the car!" to the civilians dying for a peek at the action. Brilliant stuff. If only the remainder of the episode could be of this high degree of quality and not fraught with illogical plot decisions and lazy, unbelievable writing. Sometimes I do feel like I'm nitpicking too much, that I should swallow more than I am willing to, and then I remind myself that 24 can be superb and bereft of major plot holes when it sets its mind to it. So why can't it do it more often? This is still a strong piece of television by any standards... it's just not as strong as it could so easily be. 7.4
Wr: Manny Coto & Brannon Braga
Dr: Milan Cheylov
Synopsis: Dubaku's attempt to flee the country is cut short when his decision to take his girlfriend along proves to be his undoing, and leads to a breakthrough for Jack and Renee. The moles within the FBI are uncovered when Chloe's decryption skills are put to the test by Sean who attempts a last-ditch effort to save himself.
Review: Ask any self-respecting 24 fan and they'll tell you that the first compromise you have to make as a viewer of the show is to let all notions of believability fall by the wayside. While the production staff essentially made it difficult for themselves from the get go by making the bloody central concept that all the action occurs in real time, they quickly realised that some of life's more irritating roadblocks - traffic, distance, procrastination - would have to be circumnavigated if they were to successfully compose an entertaining show. So, instead of showing the 46 minutes it would actually take for a driver to get from A to B in rush hour traffic, they cut it all down to about 7 minutes tops and hope that you'll just accept the contrivance... and, let's face it, more often than not, we would rather do so than endure the mind-numbing boredom that would more closely reflect reality. So, on this theme, there's a moment in '5pm - 6pm' in which a police officer helicopters an important piece of information to FBI HQ in less than five minutes. Never mind the distance, would it even make it into the Director's hands in that short a timeframe? Surely it would go through a complicated screening process first? But then, we swallow the pill because it moves the plot forward, keeps the tension high and ensures our viewing experience is a riveting one. Problem is, there's a rather large number of these contrivances in this particular hour and it has a knock on effect on its quality.
Sticking with the policeman, really, would Jack hand this highly volatile, ultra-classified data stick to a member of Metro PD and trust it to get to the head of FBI DC where there's a bloody government conspiracy going on?! Okay, I buy that it perhaps doesn't infiltrate the local agencies but Bauer's placing a whole lot on chance to expect the guy not to be intercepted before he gets to Moss. Surely he'd trust no one other than himself in such a dangerous situation? And then there's the small matter of the data stick itself: sure, placing it inside yourself is a guaranteed way of keeping it safe but can anyone say 'been there, done that, bought the T-shirt'? Remember the Coral Snake dude in season 2? Same scenario. The moment loses any power it may have had because it is just so damn predictable. And how about the magical Epinephrine, the drug that wakes everyone and their uncle up from SERIOUS TRAUMA and conveniently allows us to acquire the information we need? I am willing to accept this, I suppose, but it just seems rather rushed: Dubaku's giving up his only leverage within seconds of coming back around! All it takes is for Bauer to threaten his family and whoop, dastardly plot over. Is this going to be Jack's answer to everything to this season? Get to the wife and kid: they'll solve it all for us! How about a terrorist who is willing to sacrifice his loved ones? Or one with no ties at all? Don't make it so damn easy!
There are problems elsewhere too. While the introduction of Erica into the inter-agency conspiracy is nicely handled as it is purely organic, worked into a natural conversation with Sean at the start of the episode that doesn't contain exchanges like "what do you want?" "Well, I'm part of this conspiracy Sean, I have been from the beginning, I helped you, I orchestrated everything, I demand to know what's going on!" but instead, throws you off a bit until you realise that, yes, the bitch's dirty too, its context is so utterly ludicrous that it loses some of its magic. These two have a conversation about their duplicitous, highly illegal activities AS THEY WALK FROM SEAN'S DESK TO A COMMUNAL REST AREA AND THEN BACK AGAIN! Oh come on! I suppose there's something to be said for 'hiding in plain sight' but this is just ridiculous. Anyone in the local area, not just immediate earshot, would be able to hear what they're saying... and what they're saying is thoroughly incriminating. You'd find somewhere to meet... go outside for a fag, find a broom closet, anything! It considerably weakens the scene, making it come across as poorly thought out and arguably a little rushed (a common theme of the hour, it seems). The remainder of the duo's plot is generally well executed, with a prominent sense of urgency and fear coming across at all points and a lovely moment of conniving backstabbing in which Sean brutally murders his lover (this is wonderfully shot), but the comedy lingers around in the background as first, there is the absurdity of the CREEPY, BLACKENED SERVER ROOM WITH NO SURVEILLANCE and then, after the systems are wiped and they lose all their data in a fantastically catastrophic moment, Chloe fixes it all within minutes! And worse, she actually says, "don't ask me how I did it"! Talk about your deux et machinas... she mumbles something incomprehensible about 'mirrors' and we're supposed to just accept that her innate genius has saved us all again. Um, no. Ms O'Brien has stopped being a character of her own and has turned into a plot device on legs: one that can be brought out of the woodwork whenever there's a messy technological problem to sort out and she'll do it in an instant. How about she doesn't fix things for once? How about they have to work against the odds to resolve a problem? It's just too damn convenient and, while I appreciate that the writers are keeping their feet firmly on the accelerator and trying to ensure that we are being fed plot, plot and more plot rather than unnecessary 'emotional' distractions (which I am very pleased with, by the way), there are better, less absurd ways of doing so than this.
'5pm - 6pm' is an interestingly structured episode in this regard. Coto and Braga's script essentially ties everything up by around 17:46; we have Dubaku in custody, Sean and Erica exposed, the President back in the White House and the list of people involved in the government conspiracy revealed to the good guys. Consequently, as a few self-reflective, emotive sequences play out, the viewer is encouraged to begin thinking about just where they're gonna go next. With fourteen hours left, there's no way on Earth that all we're going to see is Bauer preparing for his trial and the President crying over her sick husband. Something has to happen. And as the clock ticks ever closer to the closing minutes of the hour, we begin to expect that it'll be a sudden, shocking cliffhanger that changes everything around... and then, pleasingly, it's not. Our expectations are shattered. Jack sits on some steps and looks out over a beautiful sunset (at 5.56pm... as it is EVERY SEASON!! Why must the 'longest days of Jack Bauer's life' always occur in late Winter?!) and EVIL TONY comes and sits beside him, ready to tell him about an impending second attack, initiated by Tony Todd, sorry General Juma, himself. Well, that was nicely timed, wasn't it? While I accept that this turn in the narrative has to happen, and I'm fine with the nature of the impending trajectory (especially when it is tied back to the Senator who was grilling Jack in the opening episode... he's a fabulous actor, good to have him back), did it really have to occur just when everything else was resolved? Oh, we've got a clean slate so... Tony must show up and muddy it! That's not how life works guys and it's not something I'm willing to overlook when it can be so easily resolved in a believable manner. Have Tony turn up at the start of the hour instead. Have him complicate matters even further while the other action is still going on. It'd increase the tension manyfold. Sure, it wouldn't allow Jack to sit on some steps and contemplate life, love and the pursuit of ELTON JOHN'S OSCAR PARTIES, but do we even need this at this stage of the game? Is it not better left until the closing hours of the season? And just how did Tony know where Jack would be anyway, huh? Hmph.
You wouldn't know it from what you've just read but there's some excellent material in this episode and it's largely character based. Cherry Jones is top notch as the grief-stricken President again, Jeffrey Nordling plays Moss' anger and frustration to perfection and Kiefer Sutherland and Annie Wersching are given some beautiful material to work with in the Bauer/Walker dynamic. The scene in the hospital, in particular, is absolutely excellent: thankfully, Renee's emotional outburst is not merely followed by a moment in which the heroic, all-knowing man comforts her, but is supplemented with an additional beat that returns their relationship to a very cold place when she counters Jack's "you'll learn to live with it" with a very sharp "I don't want to live with it." Much more believable and far more emotionally complex and interesting. Plus, she gets to slap Bauer! Three times! And gets away with it! That's surely unprecedented. The first twelve minutes of the episode are superbly executed too, with the direction, cinematography and music coming together to create an intensely dramatic chase sequence and aftermath. It's all in the little touches here, like Jack screaming "get back in the car!" to the civilians dying for a peek at the action. Brilliant stuff. If only the remainder of the episode could be of this high degree of quality and not fraught with illogical plot decisions and lazy, unbelievable writing. Sometimes I do feel like I'm nitpicking too much, that I should swallow more than I am willing to, and then I remind myself that 24 can be superb and bereft of major plot holes when it sets its mind to it. So why can't it do it more often? This is still a strong piece of television by any standards... it's just not as strong as it could so easily be. 7.4
Review: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles 215
215: 'Desert Cantos'
Wr: John Wirth & Ian Goldberg
Dr: J. Miller Tobin
Synopsis: Sarah, John, Cameron and Derek go in search of clues connected to a factory that has been torn down. Weaver sends a man to the same place to look for survivors.
Review: There are times when I ask myself why I continue to watch Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles; they usually occur just after the latest episode has finished downloading and I'm faced with having to make the decision of whether to press 'play' on it or the newest instalment of Battlestar Galactica, which airs the same night. Invariably, Battlestar always wins. I subsequently tend to spend a few days pontificating, putting off the inevitable and when I eventually do come around to sticking the ruddy thing on, it's usually when I have at least one other thing to distract me. So perhaps it's slightly unfair that I deign to review the thing when I'm probably not giving it the level of attention that it naturally deserves. But then, if it bothered to actually be good, solid entertainment week in, week out, I'd be less swayed by other things. Hell, I'd be less swayed if it could muster up a quality episode every couple of weeks or so. As it currently stands, the show has been unquestionably lacklustre for quite some time, with even then one above average episode that I can remember, 'Alpine Fields', still being a distraction from the overall season arc. If the writing staff would dust themselves down and get on with it, I'd question my resolve to work through the season a whole hell of a lot less.
To be fair to 'Desert Cantos', we do see a slight improvement in the quality of the writing this week, even if it is only because something actually happens. It's not much, granted, but at least it takes the show a couple of baby steps forward towards the inevitable climax of the previously disparate Connor and Weaver narratives. The family work together (which is incredibly refreshing to see) without any distractions from useless Jesse or even more useless Riley to acquire some additional information on the nature of the work going on at the mysterious warehouse that we first saw in 'Earthlings Welcome Here'. A mildly intriguing mystery ensues, in which it is determined that one of the supposedly dead fathers is actually alive, and the whole thing is paid off nicely with the sudden appearance of a drone from the bubbling waters beside a bunch of dead cows. There's also a welcome burst of tension imbued into proceedings when Sarah and John are wandering around the interconnected houses of the warehouse workers and particularly when Sarah uncovers the basement area with its unusual CCTV system and technology. Bear McCreary's music is perfectly pitched here and ensures that you're perched on the edge of your seat, unsure of both the fate of the character and the nature of what she will find.
It's a pity, then, that this is where the good stuff ends. There is still far, far too great an emphasis placed on exploring the psychological make-up of the characters involved in the narrative and in 'Desert Cantos'' case, it's made all the more frustrating by the fact that it's people that we've never met before, are poorly sketched out in the dialogue, and that we therefore don't care about one iota, who are given the episode's undivided attention. I mean Christ on a pedolo, look how long it takes to actually get to the point where something interesting happens! We spend the first twenty minutes dancing around the obvious issue - that the Connors need some sort of lead - by essentially musing about how horrible funerals are. Huh. Well, there's a highly poignant observation if ever I saw one. Oh wait, but it wouldn't be realistic if they got the answers they needed straight away, right? Well, no, it wouldn't. So why not cut the slow-moving procession through EVERY FACET OF THE FLAMING FUNERAL (the episode even predicates its structure on the stages of the thing for God's sake! It actually divides it up ON-SCREEN) and show us snippets of the thing? Dare to get us beyond the point of one minor plot development each episode and actually DO SOMETHING WORTHWHILE WITH THE STORY! And while you're at it, get a better casting director: the actresses playing the mother and child whose husband/father didn't die are truly abysmal. There are times in which they come across as if they're reading their lines off a Teleprompter; the most notable of which is probably the scene in the basement. Mind you, this is the show that cast Shirley Manson as its central villain so maybe that's too much to ask. She's cringe worthy again here actually, especially when she utters the ridiculous line "excuse me Mr. Ellison, I'm feeling emotional." You're telling me that any sane human being WHO WAS IN CONTACT WITH MACHINES THAT TALK EXACTLY LIKE THIS wouldn't cotton on to the fact that something was up? Pah!
While this is something of an improvement on the dire 'Earthlings Welcome Here' and 'The Good Wound', 'Desert Cantos' still showcases many of the problems that are currently inherent in Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. It's far too slow moving and focuses its attention on tropes and characters that it's difficult to muster any interest in. The show continues to stare blankly at its navel, only occasionally choosing to look up to give its viewers a tiny snippet of something relevant to that pesky little season-spanning narrative that the cast and crew seem to have forgotten about. Things need to pick up fast if there's going to be any interest left anywhere in this programme: sadly, the synopsis for next week's episode indicates that Sarah will be visiting a clinic for help when she starts having nightmares. Again. I despair, I really do. 5.3
Wr: John Wirth & Ian Goldberg
Dr: J. Miller Tobin
Synopsis: Sarah, John, Cameron and Derek go in search of clues connected to a factory that has been torn down. Weaver sends a man to the same place to look for survivors.
Review: There are times when I ask myself why I continue to watch Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles; they usually occur just after the latest episode has finished downloading and I'm faced with having to make the decision of whether to press 'play' on it or the newest instalment of Battlestar Galactica, which airs the same night. Invariably, Battlestar always wins. I subsequently tend to spend a few days pontificating, putting off the inevitable and when I eventually do come around to sticking the ruddy thing on, it's usually when I have at least one other thing to distract me. So perhaps it's slightly unfair that I deign to review the thing when I'm probably not giving it the level of attention that it naturally deserves. But then, if it bothered to actually be good, solid entertainment week in, week out, I'd be less swayed by other things. Hell, I'd be less swayed if it could muster up a quality episode every couple of weeks or so. As it currently stands, the show has been unquestionably lacklustre for quite some time, with even then one above average episode that I can remember, 'Alpine Fields', still being a distraction from the overall season arc. If the writing staff would dust themselves down and get on with it, I'd question my resolve to work through the season a whole hell of a lot less.
To be fair to 'Desert Cantos', we do see a slight improvement in the quality of the writing this week, even if it is only because something actually happens. It's not much, granted, but at least it takes the show a couple of baby steps forward towards the inevitable climax of the previously disparate Connor and Weaver narratives. The family work together (which is incredibly refreshing to see) without any distractions from useless Jesse or even more useless Riley to acquire some additional information on the nature of the work going on at the mysterious warehouse that we first saw in 'Earthlings Welcome Here'. A mildly intriguing mystery ensues, in which it is determined that one of the supposedly dead fathers is actually alive, and the whole thing is paid off nicely with the sudden appearance of a drone from the bubbling waters beside a bunch of dead cows. There's also a welcome burst of tension imbued into proceedings when Sarah and John are wandering around the interconnected houses of the warehouse workers and particularly when Sarah uncovers the basement area with its unusual CCTV system and technology. Bear McCreary's music is perfectly pitched here and ensures that you're perched on the edge of your seat, unsure of both the fate of the character and the nature of what she will find.
It's a pity, then, that this is where the good stuff ends. There is still far, far too great an emphasis placed on exploring the psychological make-up of the characters involved in the narrative and in 'Desert Cantos'' case, it's made all the more frustrating by the fact that it's people that we've never met before, are poorly sketched out in the dialogue, and that we therefore don't care about one iota, who are given the episode's undivided attention. I mean Christ on a pedolo, look how long it takes to actually get to the point where something interesting happens! We spend the first twenty minutes dancing around the obvious issue - that the Connors need some sort of lead - by essentially musing about how horrible funerals are. Huh. Well, there's a highly poignant observation if ever I saw one. Oh wait, but it wouldn't be realistic if they got the answers they needed straight away, right? Well, no, it wouldn't. So why not cut the slow-moving procession through EVERY FACET OF THE FLAMING FUNERAL (the episode even predicates its structure on the stages of the thing for God's sake! It actually divides it up ON-SCREEN) and show us snippets of the thing? Dare to get us beyond the point of one minor plot development each episode and actually DO SOMETHING WORTHWHILE WITH THE STORY! And while you're at it, get a better casting director: the actresses playing the mother and child whose husband/father didn't die are truly abysmal. There are times in which they come across as if they're reading their lines off a Teleprompter; the most notable of which is probably the scene in the basement. Mind you, this is the show that cast Shirley Manson as its central villain so maybe that's too much to ask. She's cringe worthy again here actually, especially when she utters the ridiculous line "excuse me Mr. Ellison, I'm feeling emotional." You're telling me that any sane human being WHO WAS IN CONTACT WITH MACHINES THAT TALK EXACTLY LIKE THIS wouldn't cotton on to the fact that something was up? Pah!
While this is something of an improvement on the dire 'Earthlings Welcome Here' and 'The Good Wound', 'Desert Cantos' still showcases many of the problems that are currently inherent in Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. It's far too slow moving and focuses its attention on tropes and characters that it's difficult to muster any interest in. The show continues to stare blankly at its navel, only occasionally choosing to look up to give its viewers a tiny snippet of something relevant to that pesky little season-spanning narrative that the cast and crew seem to have forgotten about. Things need to pick up fast if there's going to be any interest left anywhere in this programme: sadly, the synopsis for next week's episode indicates that Sarah will be visiting a clinic for help when she starts having nightmares. Again. I despair, I really do. 5.3
"With all due respect Elton, ask around."
Kiefer's losing his rag again.
I sort of have this mental image of him doing a Randy Marsh and magically losing all his clothes and then being bundled into a police car. Hmm... a bit like this:
I sort of have this mental image of him doing a Randy Marsh and magically losing all his clothes and then being bundled into a police car. Hmm... a bit like this:
Monday 23 February 2009
All the boys together. *wink wink*
In other news, Peter (as he now wishes to be known, ladies and gentlemen... a sure fire sign of the onset of fuddy-duddy Q-readership-style 'artistic seriousness' a.k.a. boring old fartdom *ahem* Chris Martin *ahem*) Doherty breathes some life into a dreadfully meandering waste of a song with a video that features two men kissing for a full twenty seconds. Oh my God, call The Daily Mail, we need to get this smut off our screens before our (male) children start fiddling with each other!
You cannot escape TEH SYNTH.
I'm crying mental tears over this.
While it's not quite as bad as 'Human', and it certainly doesn't trawl the same depths as 'Mercury', it's still a gargantuan let down. Is no one safe? Is nothing sacred? Will the dreaded sound of 80s synthesisers take over the entire music business as we know it? Is Cannibal Corpse's next album going to be 'inspired by Duran Duran'?
I despair, I truly do.
While it's not quite as bad as 'Human', and it certainly doesn't trawl the same depths as 'Mercury', it's still a gargantuan let down. Is no one safe? Is nothing sacred? Will the dreaded sound of 80s synthesisers take over the entire music business as we know it? Is Cannibal Corpse's next album going to be 'inspired by Duran Duran'?
I despair, I truly do.
Reviews: Desperate Housewives 514/515
514: 'Mama Spent Money When She Had None'
Wr: Jason Ganzel
Dr: David Warren
Synopsis: Bree reaps the success of her new book by treating herself to a new car, while Lynette and Tom resolve to sell his Mustang for some extra cash. Susan is determined to send MJ to the best school, even though she and Mike can't afford it. Meanwhile, Gaby joins Edie's no nonsense boot camp to get herself back into shape, and Lee is conflicted over whether to tell Lynette and Tom some disturbing facts about Dave.
Review: Topical? Desperate Housewives? The show about four achingly perfect women and their quest to keep on the right side of sane in the idyllic suburbs of America? You're having a larff ain't ya? Well, actually, no. Marc Cherry's magnum opus manages to be just about as relevant as page 2 of The Sun this week (you know, the bit with, shock of shocks, the politics) as the production crew take the global recession and run a few blocks with it (despite the show being set five years into future, natch). Or about as far as Gabrielle manages to get with her fitness regime in the first twenty odd minutes, at any rate. So both Lynette and Susan find themselves struck down by the credit crunch monster: business isn't exactly booming for either lady, but poor Mrs. Scavo's case, the recent finger-pointing and damning media coverage of EVIL PORTER is hampering sales of her fabulous pizzas even more.
Mrs. Myer, meanwhile, desperately wants little MJ to go to a private school (I mean, don't all parents? Or at least, all parents in bloody American television shows, the snobs... does no one care for the merits of state education any more? For actually being introduced to that important little thing called life? Apparently not. Rant over) and when she is faced with the phenomenal bill, she does everything in her power to get Mike to cough up the pennies. Thankfully, this somewhat selfish streak is addressed within the narrative and before long, she's pimping herself out to the headmaster, insisting that she'll do anything to get the boy in. I'm quite surprised the guy doesn't turn to camera with a wry grin on his face and exclaim, "aanything?!" but we'll bypass that missed opportunity for now. What is more troubling is the ease with which Susan manages to ingratiate herself within the faculty: why does being an illustrator of children's books qualify you to be a teacher's assistant? Teach being the operative word in the sentence. Don't you need some sort of, oh, I don't know, teaching qualification?! And if Susan has one, it's not exactly evident from her conversation with the man: all she shows him is a copy of her art work, no mention of her educational history is made! Oh, and while we're nitpicking, would he really not offer her the assistant to the Art teacher's role immediately after she suggests working in the department? He held back that nugget of information because she was 'over qualified'? Where? Where were her credentials? Give me a sodding break!
Things are somewhat stronger in Lynette's corner, if only because the narrative has the added bonus of highlighting the distinct changes in Bree's character. The marriage of the two housewives in business is a novel idea and the staging of the downturn in their friendship at the restaurant works really well. Largely, the credit goes to Marcia Cross and Felicity Huffman as the two are on the ball yet again, perfectly encapsulating the gulf that can develop as a result of financial oscillation. And then, of course, there's Dave, whose story manages to take an additional step forward through this as finally, someone gets to see through the guy's bullshit. I imagine everyone with a working conscience was delighted at Tom's right-royal punch-out: I know I was egging him on to giving the psychopathic git a good seeing to. I am not a violent person. Honest.
An encouragingly well thought out episode overall, then, with an engaging set of narrative strands and even some relevance to the current socio-economic climate. There are elements that leave a slightly bitter taste and once again, Gabrielle's story proves difficult to reconcile, even if it is occasionally amusing, but generally, this is an enjoyable forty five minutes. Fairly standard Desperate Housewives fare but that's certainly nothing to complain about. 8.0
515: 'In a World Where the Kings are Employers'
Wr: Lori Kirkland Baker
Dr: David Grossman
Synopsis: Susan starts a new job in order to give son MJ the best, but when Mike leaves their son in Katherine's care, anger and jealousy pervade. As Scavo Pizzeria continues to take a hit in the current economy, Lynette tells Tom they have to sell. Carlos receives a generous bonus when Gaby discovers his boss' dirty little secret. Orson confronts Bree when he learns she's given Andrew a raise. Meanwhile, Dave comes closer to performing his vengeance scheme.
Review: Desperate Housewives is about to make another brief departure from our screens for three short weeks (bloody networks!) but before it does, it takes something of a bold leap and centres an entire episode on exploring the less-than-desirable characteristics of a number of its key characters. It's risky business this, tampering with the viewer's perceptions of the 'people' they enjoy watching week in, week out and while, when done successfully, it can add many welcome layers to the cast and humanise them to a greater extent, which in turn allows for an increased level of empathy because, let's face it, we certainly aren't perfect, all too often, the attempt is botched and what we're left with is a considerably bitter taste and the feeling that, honestly, we've been cheated out of our previously established allegiances. Here, we are subjected to plots that demonstrate the distinctly unlikeable sides of three of the main players: Tom Scavo, Susan Myer and Orson Hodge (I don't count Gabrielle because, well, what we get here is nothing new). Let's start with Orson, as his is perhaps the best executed.
So this week, Bree's husband discovers that PLUSH LIVING GAY Andrew (her son) is making more money than he is, working as Mrs. Van Der Kamp's PA. Which, quite frankly, he should be. He runs around after Bree, picks up all her messes, organises everything for her, makes sure everything goes according to plan and even waits on her hand and foot. Basically, he's the mechanics of the entire operation, turning the cogs and letting Bree be the pretty front. The only thing he doesn't do is cook. Orson cooks. And that's about it. So how would it not be fair for Andrew to earn more than he does... even if it is double? Frankly, that's none of his business and his qualifications as a dentist don't make an ounce of difference. At the end of the day, it's Bree's business, Bree's pay scheme and she actually let him have the job in the first place. With no relevant qualifications or experience, I might add! Thus, as soon as Bree opens her mouth to defend her position, she's unquestionable in every aspect. It's good to see her standing up for her decisions and not bowing to the pressure placed on her by her husband; she puts him in his place, which is exactly as it should be. Effectively, this a competent vehicle for Marcia Cross' character, allowing her to counter some of the questionable compromises she has made for Orson in the earlier hours of the season. So this one works: while we certainly don't empathise with Orson, his position is understood, resolved and quietly put to bed without much damage to his character (frankly, the kleptomaniac thing seems rather fun!)
The same cannot be said for Susan Myer and Tom Scavo, however. Susan in particular is just unforgivable here. While it does seem to chime with her character that she would be jealous of Katherine, it's just plain irritating, especially given the double standard it seems to be inherently predicated upon. Just a few weeks ago, she expected Mike to be fine with the idea of Jackson spending time with MJ which, despite his initial reservation, he simply bluntly accepted. No forced confrontation with the man, accusing him of trying to steal his son away from him. Now the boot's on the other foot and Susan isn't happy... which, frankly, I'm surprised the writers didn't address (missed opportunity, much?) But of course, this is an exercise in plot manoeuvring. The purpose of Susan's unjustified vehemence is so we can get to the point where Mike moving in with Katherine can be revealed. Resultantly, this feels a little contrived, even if Susan's objections are arguably in character. And perhaps more worryingly, it's just frustrating watching her whine about MJ's need to be with Mike, not his girlfriend. Change the bloody record, would ya? Tom Scavo, meanwhile, is just plain insane. While I certainly buy that he would be desperate to save his pizza place, I do not accept that he would get his underage children to work there. Porter and Preston, maybe, okay. But Parker? PENNY?! SHE'S NINE YEARS OLD. NINE. It's bloody illegal and there's no way Tom would flaunt the law so outrageously. He wants to keep his business, not lose it due to legal action. I understand that the writers evidently want to demonstrate just how much he wants to make the place a success and not let go of it, but couldn't they have found a better way of illustrating it than by completely throwing his character out of the window? No, this is not something that Tom would do EVER. And it certainly not something that Lynette would agree to. EVER. In fact, it's something that NO ONE WOULD DO. EVER. And are you telling me that the neighbourhood would let them get away with it? That they wouldn't object to having a NINE year old behind the cash register, desperately trying to remember last week's Maths lesson in which they learned how to subtract big numbers from one another? Hello, it's a small community, someone would notice! Hell, Edie's there in one of the scenes! *rips hair out* It's just sloppy writing: finding the easiest method of getting to a desired point rather than the most organic.
This episode's overall feel is tainted somewhat by these two frustrating exercises in futility (oh and Gabrielle's story is just a damn retread of EVERY OTHER NARRATIVE SHE HAS EVER HAD). While the writing staff prove that they can explore more human, less desirable character traits successfully with Orson's story, they completely botch it with Susan and especially Lynette/Tom's stories by either making completely out-of-character, thoroughly unbelievable decisions that even a six year old would pick holes in or simply making the emphasis too great on that which is irritatingly unlikeable. It's a brave attempt, I'll give it that, but 'In a World Where the Kings are Employers' can only be described as partially successful. 6.8
Wr: Jason Ganzel
Dr: David Warren
Synopsis: Bree reaps the success of her new book by treating herself to a new car, while Lynette and Tom resolve to sell his Mustang for some extra cash. Susan is determined to send MJ to the best school, even though she and Mike can't afford it. Meanwhile, Gaby joins Edie's no nonsense boot camp to get herself back into shape, and Lee is conflicted over whether to tell Lynette and Tom some disturbing facts about Dave.
Review: Topical? Desperate Housewives? The show about four achingly perfect women and their quest to keep on the right side of sane in the idyllic suburbs of America? You're having a larff ain't ya? Well, actually, no. Marc Cherry's magnum opus manages to be just about as relevant as page 2 of The Sun this week (you know, the bit with, shock of shocks, the politics) as the production crew take the global recession and run a few blocks with it (despite the show being set five years into future, natch). Or about as far as Gabrielle manages to get with her fitness regime in the first twenty odd minutes, at any rate. So both Lynette and Susan find themselves struck down by the credit crunch monster: business isn't exactly booming for either lady, but poor Mrs. Scavo's case, the recent finger-pointing and damning media coverage of EVIL PORTER is hampering sales of her fabulous pizzas even more.
Mrs. Myer, meanwhile, desperately wants little MJ to go to a private school (I mean, don't all parents? Or at least, all parents in bloody American television shows, the snobs... does no one care for the merits of state education any more? For actually being introduced to that important little thing called life? Apparently not. Rant over) and when she is faced with the phenomenal bill, she does everything in her power to get Mike to cough up the pennies. Thankfully, this somewhat selfish streak is addressed within the narrative and before long, she's pimping herself out to the headmaster, insisting that she'll do anything to get the boy in. I'm quite surprised the guy doesn't turn to camera with a wry grin on his face and exclaim, "aanything?!" but we'll bypass that missed opportunity for now. What is more troubling is the ease with which Susan manages to ingratiate herself within the faculty: why does being an illustrator of children's books qualify you to be a teacher's assistant? Teach being the operative word in the sentence. Don't you need some sort of, oh, I don't know, teaching qualification?! And if Susan has one, it's not exactly evident from her conversation with the man: all she shows him is a copy of her art work, no mention of her educational history is made! Oh, and while we're nitpicking, would he really not offer her the assistant to the Art teacher's role immediately after she suggests working in the department? He held back that nugget of information because she was 'over qualified'? Where? Where were her credentials? Give me a sodding break!
Things are somewhat stronger in Lynette's corner, if only because the narrative has the added bonus of highlighting the distinct changes in Bree's character. The marriage of the two housewives in business is a novel idea and the staging of the downturn in their friendship at the restaurant works really well. Largely, the credit goes to Marcia Cross and Felicity Huffman as the two are on the ball yet again, perfectly encapsulating the gulf that can develop as a result of financial oscillation. And then, of course, there's Dave, whose story manages to take an additional step forward through this as finally, someone gets to see through the guy's bullshit. I imagine everyone with a working conscience was delighted at Tom's right-royal punch-out: I know I was egging him on to giving the psychopathic git a good seeing to. I am not a violent person. Honest.
An encouragingly well thought out episode overall, then, with an engaging set of narrative strands and even some relevance to the current socio-economic climate. There are elements that leave a slightly bitter taste and once again, Gabrielle's story proves difficult to reconcile, even if it is occasionally amusing, but generally, this is an enjoyable forty five minutes. Fairly standard Desperate Housewives fare but that's certainly nothing to complain about. 8.0
515: 'In a World Where the Kings are Employers'
Wr: Lori Kirkland Baker
Dr: David Grossman
Synopsis: Susan starts a new job in order to give son MJ the best, but when Mike leaves their son in Katherine's care, anger and jealousy pervade. As Scavo Pizzeria continues to take a hit in the current economy, Lynette tells Tom they have to sell. Carlos receives a generous bonus when Gaby discovers his boss' dirty little secret. Orson confronts Bree when he learns she's given Andrew a raise. Meanwhile, Dave comes closer to performing his vengeance scheme.
Review: Desperate Housewives is about to make another brief departure from our screens for three short weeks (bloody networks!) but before it does, it takes something of a bold leap and centres an entire episode on exploring the less-than-desirable characteristics of a number of its key characters. It's risky business this, tampering with the viewer's perceptions of the 'people' they enjoy watching week in, week out and while, when done successfully, it can add many welcome layers to the cast and humanise them to a greater extent, which in turn allows for an increased level of empathy because, let's face it, we certainly aren't perfect, all too often, the attempt is botched and what we're left with is a considerably bitter taste and the feeling that, honestly, we've been cheated out of our previously established allegiances. Here, we are subjected to plots that demonstrate the distinctly unlikeable sides of three of the main players: Tom Scavo, Susan Myer and Orson Hodge (I don't count Gabrielle because, well, what we get here is nothing new). Let's start with Orson, as his is perhaps the best executed.
So this week, Bree's husband discovers that PLUSH LIVING GAY Andrew (her son) is making more money than he is, working as Mrs. Van Der Kamp's PA. Which, quite frankly, he should be. He runs around after Bree, picks up all her messes, organises everything for her, makes sure everything goes according to plan and even waits on her hand and foot. Basically, he's the mechanics of the entire operation, turning the cogs and letting Bree be the pretty front. The only thing he doesn't do is cook. Orson cooks. And that's about it. So how would it not be fair for Andrew to earn more than he does... even if it is double? Frankly, that's none of his business and his qualifications as a dentist don't make an ounce of difference. At the end of the day, it's Bree's business, Bree's pay scheme and she actually let him have the job in the first place. With no relevant qualifications or experience, I might add! Thus, as soon as Bree opens her mouth to defend her position, she's unquestionable in every aspect. It's good to see her standing up for her decisions and not bowing to the pressure placed on her by her husband; she puts him in his place, which is exactly as it should be. Effectively, this a competent vehicle for Marcia Cross' character, allowing her to counter some of the questionable compromises she has made for Orson in the earlier hours of the season. So this one works: while we certainly don't empathise with Orson, his position is understood, resolved and quietly put to bed without much damage to his character (frankly, the kleptomaniac thing seems rather fun!)
The same cannot be said for Susan Myer and Tom Scavo, however. Susan in particular is just unforgivable here. While it does seem to chime with her character that she would be jealous of Katherine, it's just plain irritating, especially given the double standard it seems to be inherently predicated upon. Just a few weeks ago, she expected Mike to be fine with the idea of Jackson spending time with MJ which, despite his initial reservation, he simply bluntly accepted. No forced confrontation with the man, accusing him of trying to steal his son away from him. Now the boot's on the other foot and Susan isn't happy... which, frankly, I'm surprised the writers didn't address (missed opportunity, much?) But of course, this is an exercise in plot manoeuvring. The purpose of Susan's unjustified vehemence is so we can get to the point where Mike moving in with Katherine can be revealed. Resultantly, this feels a little contrived, even if Susan's objections are arguably in character. And perhaps more worryingly, it's just frustrating watching her whine about MJ's need to be with Mike, not his girlfriend. Change the bloody record, would ya? Tom Scavo, meanwhile, is just plain insane. While I certainly buy that he would be desperate to save his pizza place, I do not accept that he would get his underage children to work there. Porter and Preston, maybe, okay. But Parker? PENNY?! SHE'S NINE YEARS OLD. NINE. It's bloody illegal and there's no way Tom would flaunt the law so outrageously. He wants to keep his business, not lose it due to legal action. I understand that the writers evidently want to demonstrate just how much he wants to make the place a success and not let go of it, but couldn't they have found a better way of illustrating it than by completely throwing his character out of the window? No, this is not something that Tom would do EVER. And it certainly not something that Lynette would agree to. EVER. In fact, it's something that NO ONE WOULD DO. EVER. And are you telling me that the neighbourhood would let them get away with it? That they wouldn't object to having a NINE year old behind the cash register, desperately trying to remember last week's Maths lesson in which they learned how to subtract big numbers from one another? Hello, it's a small community, someone would notice! Hell, Edie's there in one of the scenes! *rips hair out* It's just sloppy writing: finding the easiest method of getting to a desired point rather than the most organic.
This episode's overall feel is tainted somewhat by these two frustrating exercises in futility (oh and Gabrielle's story is just a damn retread of EVERY OTHER NARRATIVE SHE HAS EVER HAD). While the writing staff prove that they can explore more human, less desirable character traits successfully with Orson's story, they completely botch it with Susan and especially Lynette/Tom's stories by either making completely out-of-character, thoroughly unbelievable decisions that even a six year old would pick holes in or simply making the emphasis too great on that which is irritatingly unlikeable. It's a brave attempt, I'll give it that, but 'In a World Where the Kings are Employers' can only be described as partially successful. 6.8
Review: Skins 305
305: 'Freddie'
Wr: Ben Schiffer
Dr: Charles Martin
Synopsis: Freddie has always been the black sheep of his family, and is growing more and more sick of this. But when Freddie's sister Karen signs up for a reality TV show, he is forced into acting like a perfect family for the cameras.
Review: Ah, Freddie. I knew you were my favourite new member of the Skins collective... well, after JJ at any rate. This episode is a classic instalment of the series, featuring many of the elements that transformed it from an amusingly frank take on teenage life in season one to a serious, considered examination of the human condition in season two. Gone are the outrageous plot exaggerations, over-the-top narrative trajectories and unbelievable dalliances with contrivance and in their place, we are treated to a comprehensive look at the inner-workings and familial/social situation fo a thoroughly likeable and rather complex character. This is no forty five minute struggle for empathy like Cook's episode and nor is it half an hour of kookiness followed by fifteen minutes of self-reflection like Pandora's (which, by the way, I'm certainly not knocking). No, this is a well thought out, entirely cohesive and logical essay on the trials and tribulations of friendship, romance and, most importantly of all, loss.
It certainly helps that Luke Pasqualiano is excellent as Freddie. He brings a quiet confidence to the role that prevents his epiphianic moments from seeming mawkish and his inter-relations with the rest of cast from seeming forced. He plays well off everyone: with Effy, you feel the heartbreak in his voice, you see it in his eyes and you buy into every horrible segment of it. With Cook and JJ, you see the affection built from years of solid friendship and with the former, when things get ugly, as they inevitably do in the final scene when the bastard confronts Freddie's sister, the anguish threatens to tear you apart. You feel how difficult this is for Freddie, how much he evidently wants to return to normality but cannot reconcile this desire with the actions of this so-called 'best friend'. And with his immediate family, well, this is the most believable unit we've seen so far. It's in the minutiae, such as the looks he gives his dad when he paints the shed and the comfort he gives his sister when she loses the competition (which, in itself, had me laughing out loud... a glorious send-up of the ludicrous reality TV genre, if ever I saw one). The conflict is potent without seeming forced and this is largely thanks to the strength of the acting, but it is also the nature of the situation as well: the death of Freddie's mother remains a fact rather than an analysed trope and this grounds it in a level of believability. Importantly, there is nothing OTT about it: it simply is and out of its ordinariness comes its strength.
There is certainly something to be said for the personality traits of this week's central character too. Perhaps it is simply because I identify with him the most, but Freddie comes across, to this writer, as the most immedately likeable of the bunch. He doesn't stand out in terms of his characteristics and, as I've noted before, he very much observes the actions going on around him rather than participates in them. And yet, he is also the 'fixer-upper', coming to the rescue of his friends when they need him. Such positive features invariably generate empathy and even more so when, as here, they are countered by those who exhibit opposing behaviours. So Effy rejects his advances, regardless of just how heartfelt they are. There's no two ways about this one guys, she leads him on. In the shed, at school, when he meets her at the lake... she evidently wants him but is too messed up and selfish to make it happen without hurting him. Now sure, the girl's got her own issues to deal with but that does not mean she has carte blanche to routinely break the hearts of those who will do nothing but treat hers with respect: and it certainly doesn't mean she can be okay with it, aware of it and all. The episode leaves you with nothing but sympathy for Freddie's love-lorn, rejected heart and a bitter resentment of Effy's cruelty in stamping all over it. Perhaps he was mistaken to go to her at episode's end and he should have let her come to him, realising the error of her own ways, but can you blame the guy? She's sending out mixed signals all over the shop and he just wants to know! And as for Cook, well, if you still liked him for whatever warped reason at the beginning of the hour, you'll hate him by the end (even if that tickling scene with JJ was extremely cute). Sure, he's trying to demonstrate the strength of his bond with Freddie and how this supposedly supercedes any romantic affiliations but come on... find a better way to do it than (a) sabotating his sister's chances at happiness and (b) banging Effy. Again. No sympathy from me guys, Cook is a world class fuckwit but then, that's exactly what we're supposed to think, isn't it?
That an episode can generate such heated feelings towards its central players is proof positive that it is nothing other than a resounding success. Freddie's hour works beautifully because its motifs are entirely relatable, they are dramatised in a considerably believable fashion, the dialogue is absolutely spot on and never strays into cliche (Freddie's lack of diction at times is a nice touch) and the acting is superb from all involved. With such a strong story, production and cast, you can't help but be swept along with it all and start involving yourself in the friendship/romantic/familial politics inherent in the episode. At times, this is powerful, moving stuff and at others, it's magnificently entertaining. This is what the show needs more of: intelligent, adult ways of approaching teenage issues, exempt from unbelievable, extreneous incident. This feels far more like the Skins I came to know and love. 9.2
Wr: Ben Schiffer
Dr: Charles Martin
Synopsis: Freddie has always been the black sheep of his family, and is growing more and more sick of this. But when Freddie's sister Karen signs up for a reality TV show, he is forced into acting like a perfect family for the cameras.
Review: Ah, Freddie. I knew you were my favourite new member of the Skins collective... well, after JJ at any rate. This episode is a classic instalment of the series, featuring many of the elements that transformed it from an amusingly frank take on teenage life in season one to a serious, considered examination of the human condition in season two. Gone are the outrageous plot exaggerations, over-the-top narrative trajectories and unbelievable dalliances with contrivance and in their place, we are treated to a comprehensive look at the inner-workings and familial/social situation fo a thoroughly likeable and rather complex character. This is no forty five minute struggle for empathy like Cook's episode and nor is it half an hour of kookiness followed by fifteen minutes of self-reflection like Pandora's (which, by the way, I'm certainly not knocking). No, this is a well thought out, entirely cohesive and logical essay on the trials and tribulations of friendship, romance and, most importantly of all, loss.
It certainly helps that Luke Pasqualiano is excellent as Freddie. He brings a quiet confidence to the role that prevents his epiphianic moments from seeming mawkish and his inter-relations with the rest of cast from seeming forced. He plays well off everyone: with Effy, you feel the heartbreak in his voice, you see it in his eyes and you buy into every horrible segment of it. With Cook and JJ, you see the affection built from years of solid friendship and with the former, when things get ugly, as they inevitably do in the final scene when the bastard confronts Freddie's sister, the anguish threatens to tear you apart. You feel how difficult this is for Freddie, how much he evidently wants to return to normality but cannot reconcile this desire with the actions of this so-called 'best friend'. And with his immediate family, well, this is the most believable unit we've seen so far. It's in the minutiae, such as the looks he gives his dad when he paints the shed and the comfort he gives his sister when she loses the competition (which, in itself, had me laughing out loud... a glorious send-up of the ludicrous reality TV genre, if ever I saw one). The conflict is potent without seeming forced and this is largely thanks to the strength of the acting, but it is also the nature of the situation as well: the death of Freddie's mother remains a fact rather than an analysed trope and this grounds it in a level of believability. Importantly, there is nothing OTT about it: it simply is and out of its ordinariness comes its strength.
There is certainly something to be said for the personality traits of this week's central character too. Perhaps it is simply because I identify with him the most, but Freddie comes across, to this writer, as the most immedately likeable of the bunch. He doesn't stand out in terms of his characteristics and, as I've noted before, he very much observes the actions going on around him rather than participates in them. And yet, he is also the 'fixer-upper', coming to the rescue of his friends when they need him. Such positive features invariably generate empathy and even more so when, as here, they are countered by those who exhibit opposing behaviours. So Effy rejects his advances, regardless of just how heartfelt they are. There's no two ways about this one guys, she leads him on. In the shed, at school, when he meets her at the lake... she evidently wants him but is too messed up and selfish to make it happen without hurting him. Now sure, the girl's got her own issues to deal with but that does not mean she has carte blanche to routinely break the hearts of those who will do nothing but treat hers with respect: and it certainly doesn't mean she can be okay with it, aware of it and all. The episode leaves you with nothing but sympathy for Freddie's love-lorn, rejected heart and a bitter resentment of Effy's cruelty in stamping all over it. Perhaps he was mistaken to go to her at episode's end and he should have let her come to him, realising the error of her own ways, but can you blame the guy? She's sending out mixed signals all over the shop and he just wants to know! And as for Cook, well, if you still liked him for whatever warped reason at the beginning of the hour, you'll hate him by the end (even if that tickling scene with JJ was extremely cute). Sure, he's trying to demonstrate the strength of his bond with Freddie and how this supposedly supercedes any romantic affiliations but come on... find a better way to do it than (a) sabotating his sister's chances at happiness and (b) banging Effy. Again. No sympathy from me guys, Cook is a world class fuckwit but then, that's exactly what we're supposed to think, isn't it?
That an episode can generate such heated feelings towards its central players is proof positive that it is nothing other than a resounding success. Freddie's hour works beautifully because its motifs are entirely relatable, they are dramatised in a considerably believable fashion, the dialogue is absolutely spot on and never strays into cliche (Freddie's lack of diction at times is a nice touch) and the acting is superb from all involved. With such a strong story, production and cast, you can't help but be swept along with it all and start involving yourself in the friendship/romantic/familial politics inherent in the episode. At times, this is powerful, moving stuff and at others, it's magnificently entertaining. This is what the show needs more of: intelligent, adult ways of approaching teenage issues, exempt from unbelievable, extreneous incident. This feels far more like the Skins I came to know and love. 9.2
Review: Battlestar Galactica 416
416: 'Deadlock'
Wr: Jane Espenson
Dr: Robert Young
Synopsis: Ellen returns to the Colonial Fleet with Boomer. Although Ellen is initially overcome with joy at seeing Saul Tigh again, she becomes troubled by the relationship between Tigh and Caprica Six. Ellen also learns that some of the Cylons want to leave the Colonial Fleet behind. Meanwhile, Baltar uncovers a dangerous situation among the civilians on the Galactica.
Review: Last week, Battlestar Galactica upped the ante. Hell, it far more than upped the ante: it damn well ripped it apart, stamped all over the remains and Roadrunnered into the distance, leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces, windswept and shellshocked. It was a thoroughly thrilling feeling, watching the show give us a huge chunk of the answers we've been craving for the better part of four years and it seemed to truly reinforce the notion that we are actually on the final stretch, the last, desperate gasp before the finish line. The final sprint, as it were. Unfortunately, you really wouldn't know from simply watching this episode. If you'd missed 'No Exit', sure, there'd be a few plot points you might have trouble following, particularly in the character interplay, but you certainly wouldn't immediately be aware that we are building towards the end. Jane Espenson's script feels more like a bog standard filler hour, a competent concentration on character intrigue, yes, but certainly not one of the big final five episodes.
It is perhaps more a fault of scheduling than anything else. Arguably, any episode that followed such a heady fan-pleasing fest as 'No Exit' was bound to struggle to live up to its lofty heights... but it might've been nice if the production staff had actually tried. There is so much unresolved story still hanging in the balance, so many interesting places that Galactica's season-spanning narrative can still go, that it's almost a little insulting that they choose the throw the brakes on again and engage in a wee bit of navel-gazing. This seems to suggest that the final hours of the show, the four episodes that remain (series finale is two hours long, so we get five hours), are going to be bursting at the seams with plot and revelation, provided the writers follow through on their promise to tie up all the loose ends, and this, boys and girls, is a little worrying. The last thing we need is for Battlestar Galactica to sacrifice its cornerstone, the modus operandi that has caused it to be so successful over the years, and favour exposition at the cost of character development. The two need to be married: the show's best episodes see them working together in equal harmony. With so much story to get through (Roslin/Six's dreams, the Cylon/human child, the remaining Cylons who didn't rebel, STARBUCK, original Cavel, Final Five's roles etc. etc.), it's questionable whether the show can afford to produce episodes like 'Deadlock' that just seem to stall its overall progression.
The essential story can be summarised thusly: Ellen returns to Galactica and is forced to confront the changes that occurred among her fellow Final Five members. Baltar returns to his flock. Adama wanders around the ship a bit, pulling distressed faces and worrying about the morality of what he's doing. There's nothing essentially wrong with this triad as a series of narrative tropes but it certainly feels underwhelming given where we've been taken to in the past few weeks. Ellen's return, to begin, is nicely handled and Kate Vernon does an excellent job throughout, but her essential conflict becomes very tired, very fast. She reverts to the manipulative, selfish woman she seemingly was in the first few seasons and abandons the wise demi-God-esque insights that elevated her character in last week's episode. Now, okay, so perhaps this a telling psychological point: when she's around Sol, this is what she becomes. It is perfectly plausible that this is a deliberate character decision on the part of the writing staff; however, it simply rankles somewhat because we are forced to play out the frustrating 'jealousy over new flame' motif. And boy, do they play it out. Ellen is given a number of scenes that essentially echo each other vis a vis her opinion on the matter. By the time we get around to Six's miscarriage, we've been so battered around the head with Ellen's self-obsession that it is difficult to muster any empathy for the woman as she begins to repent, seeing the wrong in how she has been acting. Problematically, the death of Liam is rather telegraphed too, particularly as Ellen essentially determines, in her dialogue no less, that his existence rather rubbishes the point of Hara. Oh well, we'd better get rid of the pesky critter then. Can't have two plot vehicles vying for the same level of attention, can we? And the continued syntagmatic juxtaposing of Ellen and Sol's romantic machinations with Caprica Six's 'baby pangs' is just too obvious for words.
There are some very nice scenes in amongst all of this, of course: Ellen's interactions with her fellow Cylons tend to work rather well and Bill and Sol's two comparative sequences in which, first, Sol reassures his friend about the decision to amalgamate human and Cylon technology and then, conversely, Adama comforts his friend over the loss of his child, are both excellently played and considerably moving. The strength of the friendship between these two is always wonderfully illustrated by the sheer quality of the acting. Honestly, I challenge you to find a better, more achingly human relationship depicted on contemporary television. It's a shame that this is the only strength in Adama's function in the episode: elsewhere, he simply strokes his chin a bit while examining the changes that are occurring on his ship. Honestly, there are so many unnecessary ten to fifteen second silent scenes peppered throughout the hour, in which Bill simply looks at a Cylon worker or looks at some damaged part of Galactica, that I lost count. Now, perhaps Espenson included them simply to break up the Final Five's sequences and to remind us that, yes, Adama still exists. Frankly, I wish she hadn't. There's no way any one of us is going to forget Edward James Olmos in a hurry and while he is the central character, there's no reason why he can't take a brief breather and only appear in the one or two scenes in which he is actually relevant. We don't need to see him every six or seven minutes! If anything, it just makes the ship-as-metaphor-for-social-situation motif far too obvious. It's like we're being hit over the head with THE POINT and I, for one, am not a fan of it.
And then there's Baltar, back with his fans. The jury's out on this one, kids. While there are some considerably amusing lines of dialogue in these scenes that illustrate subtly just how in-over-his-head Gaius is, the essential drive of the story is a little questionable. Sure, it seems set to give Adama the counter argument for his human/Cylon interaction policy, but do we really need to reignite the whole 'Baltar as religious intercessor' notion? It was kooky enough back when it was first introduced in the early stages of season four and just seems to smack of a distinct loss of something constructive to do with the character. I mean really, does anyone buy that he would successfully fool all of these people into thinking he is some form of Heavenly messenger? Especially after he jumped ship the moment things looked bad for everyone? Do we really think there would be one objection alone to his returning once everything has calmed down and not helping them during their hour of need? Oh sure, he seems to be slightly repentant now, feeding the needy and that, but this is largely to assuage the doubts voiced by the ONE OBJECTOR and regain his place as 'head of the tribe'. It doesn't comes across as true, selfless vindication and that's obviously the point, but the religious mumbo-jumbo that it's tied up with still rankles with me. Again, it's a distraction from the business of resolving the main plot and I'm not convinced it's the best resolutory arc for Baltar's character. But, as I said, the jury's out. We'll wait and see.
Something of a curious beast, this one. There is much to praise, particularly the stellar performances provided by the vast majority of the cast, and there are some superbly written scenes, but the whole feels rather lacking. Coming off the heels of last week's reveal-fest, the slow-burning character examinations that typify 'Deadlock' feel more than a little disappointing and out of place. It's as if they put their foot on the accelerator and then jerked to a sudden stop for no good reason. With such a wealth of unresolved plot points left to address and an ever-dwindling amount of time to do so, you'd think this kind of navel-gazing would've been a thing of the past. A season ago, hell, twelve episodes ago, this would've been a great, reflective instalment... now it's an unfortunate distraction. 8.0
Wr: Jane Espenson
Dr: Robert Young
Synopsis: Ellen returns to the Colonial Fleet with Boomer. Although Ellen is initially overcome with joy at seeing Saul Tigh again, she becomes troubled by the relationship between Tigh and Caprica Six. Ellen also learns that some of the Cylons want to leave the Colonial Fleet behind. Meanwhile, Baltar uncovers a dangerous situation among the civilians on the Galactica.
Review: Last week, Battlestar Galactica upped the ante. Hell, it far more than upped the ante: it damn well ripped it apart, stamped all over the remains and Roadrunnered into the distance, leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces, windswept and shellshocked. It was a thoroughly thrilling feeling, watching the show give us a huge chunk of the answers we've been craving for the better part of four years and it seemed to truly reinforce the notion that we are actually on the final stretch, the last, desperate gasp before the finish line. The final sprint, as it were. Unfortunately, you really wouldn't know from simply watching this episode. If you'd missed 'No Exit', sure, there'd be a few plot points you might have trouble following, particularly in the character interplay, but you certainly wouldn't immediately be aware that we are building towards the end. Jane Espenson's script feels more like a bog standard filler hour, a competent concentration on character intrigue, yes, but certainly not one of the big final five episodes.
It is perhaps more a fault of scheduling than anything else. Arguably, any episode that followed such a heady fan-pleasing fest as 'No Exit' was bound to struggle to live up to its lofty heights... but it might've been nice if the production staff had actually tried. There is so much unresolved story still hanging in the balance, so many interesting places that Galactica's season-spanning narrative can still go, that it's almost a little insulting that they choose the throw the brakes on again and engage in a wee bit of navel-gazing. This seems to suggest that the final hours of the show, the four episodes that remain (series finale is two hours long, so we get five hours), are going to be bursting at the seams with plot and revelation, provided the writers follow through on their promise to tie up all the loose ends, and this, boys and girls, is a little worrying. The last thing we need is for Battlestar Galactica to sacrifice its cornerstone, the modus operandi that has caused it to be so successful over the years, and favour exposition at the cost of character development. The two need to be married: the show's best episodes see them working together in equal harmony. With so much story to get through (Roslin/Six's dreams, the Cylon/human child, the remaining Cylons who didn't rebel, STARBUCK, original Cavel, Final Five's roles etc. etc.), it's questionable whether the show can afford to produce episodes like 'Deadlock' that just seem to stall its overall progression.
The essential story can be summarised thusly: Ellen returns to Galactica and is forced to confront the changes that occurred among her fellow Final Five members. Baltar returns to his flock. Adama wanders around the ship a bit, pulling distressed faces and worrying about the morality of what he's doing. There's nothing essentially wrong with this triad as a series of narrative tropes but it certainly feels underwhelming given where we've been taken to in the past few weeks. Ellen's return, to begin, is nicely handled and Kate Vernon does an excellent job throughout, but her essential conflict becomes very tired, very fast. She reverts to the manipulative, selfish woman she seemingly was in the first few seasons and abandons the wise demi-God-esque insights that elevated her character in last week's episode. Now, okay, so perhaps this a telling psychological point: when she's around Sol, this is what she becomes. It is perfectly plausible that this is a deliberate character decision on the part of the writing staff; however, it simply rankles somewhat because we are forced to play out the frustrating 'jealousy over new flame' motif. And boy, do they play it out. Ellen is given a number of scenes that essentially echo each other vis a vis her opinion on the matter. By the time we get around to Six's miscarriage, we've been so battered around the head with Ellen's self-obsession that it is difficult to muster any empathy for the woman as she begins to repent, seeing the wrong in how she has been acting. Problematically, the death of Liam is rather telegraphed too, particularly as Ellen essentially determines, in her dialogue no less, that his existence rather rubbishes the point of Hara. Oh well, we'd better get rid of the pesky critter then. Can't have two plot vehicles vying for the same level of attention, can we? And the continued syntagmatic juxtaposing of Ellen and Sol's romantic machinations with Caprica Six's 'baby pangs' is just too obvious for words.
There are some very nice scenes in amongst all of this, of course: Ellen's interactions with her fellow Cylons tend to work rather well and Bill and Sol's two comparative sequences in which, first, Sol reassures his friend about the decision to amalgamate human and Cylon technology and then, conversely, Adama comforts his friend over the loss of his child, are both excellently played and considerably moving. The strength of the friendship between these two is always wonderfully illustrated by the sheer quality of the acting. Honestly, I challenge you to find a better, more achingly human relationship depicted on contemporary television. It's a shame that this is the only strength in Adama's function in the episode: elsewhere, he simply strokes his chin a bit while examining the changes that are occurring on his ship. Honestly, there are so many unnecessary ten to fifteen second silent scenes peppered throughout the hour, in which Bill simply looks at a Cylon worker or looks at some damaged part of Galactica, that I lost count. Now, perhaps Espenson included them simply to break up the Final Five's sequences and to remind us that, yes, Adama still exists. Frankly, I wish she hadn't. There's no way any one of us is going to forget Edward James Olmos in a hurry and while he is the central character, there's no reason why he can't take a brief breather and only appear in the one or two scenes in which he is actually relevant. We don't need to see him every six or seven minutes! If anything, it just makes the ship-as-metaphor-for-social-situation motif far too obvious. It's like we're being hit over the head with THE POINT and I, for one, am not a fan of it.
And then there's Baltar, back with his fans. The jury's out on this one, kids. While there are some considerably amusing lines of dialogue in these scenes that illustrate subtly just how in-over-his-head Gaius is, the essential drive of the story is a little questionable. Sure, it seems set to give Adama the counter argument for his human/Cylon interaction policy, but do we really need to reignite the whole 'Baltar as religious intercessor' notion? It was kooky enough back when it was first introduced in the early stages of season four and just seems to smack of a distinct loss of something constructive to do with the character. I mean really, does anyone buy that he would successfully fool all of these people into thinking he is some form of Heavenly messenger? Especially after he jumped ship the moment things looked bad for everyone? Do we really think there would be one objection alone to his returning once everything has calmed down and not helping them during their hour of need? Oh sure, he seems to be slightly repentant now, feeding the needy and that, but this is largely to assuage the doubts voiced by the ONE OBJECTOR and regain his place as 'head of the tribe'. It doesn't comes across as true, selfless vindication and that's obviously the point, but the religious mumbo-jumbo that it's tied up with still rankles with me. Again, it's a distraction from the business of resolving the main plot and I'm not convinced it's the best resolutory arc for Baltar's character. But, as I said, the jury's out. We'll wait and see.
Something of a curious beast, this one. There is much to praise, particularly the stellar performances provided by the vast majority of the cast, and there are some superbly written scenes, but the whole feels rather lacking. Coming off the heels of last week's reveal-fest, the slow-burning character examinations that typify 'Deadlock' feel more than a little disappointing and out of place. It's as if they put their foot on the accelerator and then jerked to a sudden stop for no good reason. With such a wealth of unresolved plot points left to address and an ever-dwindling amount of time to do so, you'd think this kind of navel-gazing would've been a thing of the past. A season ago, hell, twelve episodes ago, this would've been a great, reflective instalment... now it's an unfortunate distraction. 8.0
Saturday 21 February 2009
Reviews: Lost 505/506
505: 'This Place is Death'
Wr: Edward Kitsis & Adam Horowitz
Dr: Paul A. Edwards
Synopsis: Locke takes on the burden to stop the island's increasingly violent shifts through time. Meanwhile, Ben hits a roadblock in his attempt to reunite the Oceanic 6 and bring them back to the island.
Review: Five seasons and five episodes into this most brain-addling of television shows and we still don't really know what that bloody monster made of smoke that makes strange noises and uproots flora, fauna and fucking human beings actually is. Oh sure, it's a 'security system', yeah, well, that's helpful. Now we have an additional titbit thanks to 'This Place is Death': it guards 'the temple'. Riiight. So how come it's made of smoke? And why do images people's pasts seem to appear 'within' it? Huh?! I suppose these questions are on their way to being answered, given that we're now on the home stretch but dammit, I'm getting a little impatient with the thing. And it's only because I love the damn monster so much: I mean, just look at it as it drags poor Montand to his inevitable doom and detaches his body from his arm. It's freaking cool, man. This is a rather nice nod back to the first season (Rousseau mentioned her armless colleague back in the day) and once again, signals that the production staff remain true to their word and are proceeding to provide answers to even the smallest of minutiae that have previously been introduced into the show's mythology. And how about the fact that the monster itself may be responsible for turning people a bit crazy? (My H-bomb theory was shot out of the water). Or is it the temple? Something else? WHAT?!
Remaining on the subject of answers, 'This Place is Death' seems hell bent on putting at least some of the pieces together for us: so now we know Charlotte's history, with official confirmation that yes, she was on the Island long ago and that she believes DANIEL told her not to come back. This, of course, ties with the events in the opening scene of the season as we see Farraday in Marvin Candle's time with the DHARMA Initiative. Doesn't look like he'll actually be able to change anything mind, even though he's apparently going to try (and he should know better... silly, heartbroken Physics expert). And what about her death, eh? Well, I've gotta say, that one threw me. I felt sure they'd save her somehow and that there would be some pay off for Daniel's infatuation but, alas, not. Although, one imagines this will now consume the man and that we're at least going to see little Charlotte very soon. Another prospective jigsaw piece from your friendly neighbourhood television reviewer: Charlotte = Annie? Ben's one true love from his young DHARMA Intiative days? I know it's been mentioned before (and you would think Benjamin might at least have an inkling) but the narrative does seem to be pointing more and more towards the possibility...
...and lo and behold, possibility actually becomes reality this week as Ms Hawking is revealed to be Farraday's mother. Well, no one saw that coming, did they? While her appearance did close the episode, thankfully the revelation did not, but rather her assertion that it is time to 'get to work'... without the other Oceanic Six members, it's worth noting. Honestly, anyone who hadn't figured Elouise out by this point really needs their head examined. Granted, the Elouise reference is rather oblique, given that it requires the viewer to remember a single name from a single episode last season (Daniel's rat, on whom he is performing time travel experiments, has been given this name), but the confluence of Desmond and co. at the church really should have triggered alarm bells if they hadn't been going off already. Personally though, I love this and actually shouted at my screen when the damn episode ended, just when things were about to bloody well get good.
To top all this meaty goodness off, Jacob actually makes a reappearance, helping John to turn the jammed FROZEN DONKEY WHEEL and send himself hurtling across the globe. All very intriguing, obtuse stuff this as it signals that Locke was wrong to let Ben go off the Island: the line 'since when did listening to what he says get you anywhere worth a damn?' is perhaps the most priceless of the season. And if course, more importantly, we actually get to see the time jumps have negative consequences as first the Orchid disappears before the Losties' eyes and then the well goes bye bye as John is descending it. It's about time we saw it impede their progression in a manner other than the food department, at any rate.
'This Place is Death' is a masterfully written, oblique bugger of an episode that moves from one tantalising plot strand to the next - Smokey attacks Rosseau and co.! They go crazy in its temple! Locke meets Jacob again and turns the FROZEN DONKEY WHEEL! Charlotte dies! The gang meet Farraday's mom and it's Ms Hawking! - and manages to throw a few answers our way to boot. It is very much a set up for major events to come, such as Locke's transformation into Jeremy Bentham and the plot to get back to the Island, but at this it works admirably. Plus we get some damn excellent individual scenes all round that demonstrate the wealth of acting ability in the cast: check out Farraday and Charlotte in the woods, Jin as he confronts Locke or, my personal favourite, Ben throwing a hissy fit in his van. A thoroughly successful way to whet everyone's appetite. 9.1
506: '316'
Wr: Damon Lindelof & Carlton Cuse
Dr: Stephen Williams
Synopsis: The way back to the island is revealed to members of the Oceanic 6, but there's trouble ahead when not all of them wish to return.
Review: While I'm not convinced that '316' deserves the title of 'best episode ever! OMG!' as it seems that many believe on TV.com, this is certainly one heck of a forty one minute ride from showrunners Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse. Look, as soon as those names appear at the bottom of the screen, you should instantly feel reassured that you are about to witness something at least moderately excellent. As it happens, they hit another home run with this one, managing to suckerpunch their audience with a quick '1,2' by taking the Oceanic Six back to the Island only six (hah!) episodes into the season. So much for all that speculation that they wouldn't return until the end of year five and then we'd spend season six resolving everything. Nice one guys for giving us a delicious story treat this early into the year.
Of course, it wouldn't be Lost if the return to the Island was completely straightforward. A great deal is left unexplained here: what happens to Aaron? Why is Hurley carrying a guitar case? How did Sayid end up in custody? What happened to Ben? Personally, my speculations are as follows: 1. Claire appeared to Kate again and reiterated the point that the boy must not go back to the Island. 2. The guitar case is Charlie's proxy. 3. This is a sort of proxy for Kate. 4. I reckon he went to murder Penny and got more than he bargained for... i.e. a big old battering from Mr. Hume ("You're gonna die Benjamin!" etc.) But obviously, I could be completely off on all counts. It is a little frustrating that we aren't privy to the answers to these somewhat substantial questions and that we simply have to swallow the fact that the three unwillings have somehow been turned (particularly in relation to Kate's insistence that Aaron's name never be mentioned again... that's a nice way to not have to answer this one for a while!) but then, that's Lost for you. Without the mystery, the anticipation that we'll be given answers in the future, where would we be? Admit it: it's fun to speculate and part of you enjoys the feeling of being made to wait another agonising seven days. You know it's true.
And importantly, it's not as if we weren't treated to a lorry load of answers here anyway. The first eleven minutes, in fact, act as one big information dump as Elouise talks a few of the Losties through the purpose of the CRAZY PENDULUM ROOM. This entire sequence is delectably refreshing as, for once, the dialogue actually gives comprehensive, straightforward answers to a series of questions. We learn the room's purpose, its history, how it has achieved its go0al and how Elouise expects to use it to help the Losties. And crucially, it all makes logical sense: of course the DHARMA Initiative would have to find the Island in order to perform its loopy experiments on it. Science is left behind somewhat by the notion of the 'proxy', however, and how replicating the original conditions of arrival will help them get back but then, this dichotomy between faith and science has always been at the very heart of the show. Plus, I'm sure we'll be treated to some further explanation of how all of this works (however questionable it may be) in the future. For example, what happened to the plane? Presumably, the Oceanic Six were caught in one of the temporal shifts - supported by Jin's appearance in DHARMA Initative gear - and this is how they ended up on the Island, but did the plane remain in its present time or has it shifted with them? Does the 'proxy' situation (replicating conditions) somehow limit the scope of the temporal shift to those who have been to the Island before? In which case, where is Lapitus? And could I ask any more questions in one single paragraph?
'316' is a rather unexpected about turn in the ongoing narrative, bringing the Oceanic Six (well, Five... sans Aaron) back to the Island in spectacular fashion a whole hell of a lot earlier than anyone really expected. It's Jack-centric, but it doesn't feel much like it because it is chiefly concerned with progressing the narrative and, particularly in the first quarter of the hour, providing some solid answers to a number of questions that have been lingering for some time. Next week's episode is titled 'The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham' which, presumably, means we're going to see exactly what Locke got up to after he left the Island... and how he committed suicide. And then after that... your guess is as good as mine. Fabulous stuff. 9.2
Wr: Edward Kitsis & Adam Horowitz
Dr: Paul A. Edwards
Synopsis: Locke takes on the burden to stop the island's increasingly violent shifts through time. Meanwhile, Ben hits a roadblock in his attempt to reunite the Oceanic 6 and bring them back to the island.
Review: Five seasons and five episodes into this most brain-addling of television shows and we still don't really know what that bloody monster made of smoke that makes strange noises and uproots flora, fauna and fucking human beings actually is. Oh sure, it's a 'security system', yeah, well, that's helpful. Now we have an additional titbit thanks to 'This Place is Death': it guards 'the temple'. Riiight. So how come it's made of smoke? And why do images people's pasts seem to appear 'within' it? Huh?! I suppose these questions are on their way to being answered, given that we're now on the home stretch but dammit, I'm getting a little impatient with the thing. And it's only because I love the damn monster so much: I mean, just look at it as it drags poor Montand to his inevitable doom and detaches his body from his arm. It's freaking cool, man. This is a rather nice nod back to the first season (Rousseau mentioned her armless colleague back in the day) and once again, signals that the production staff remain true to their word and are proceeding to provide answers to even the smallest of minutiae that have previously been introduced into the show's mythology. And how about the fact that the monster itself may be responsible for turning people a bit crazy? (My H-bomb theory was shot out of the water). Or is it the temple? Something else? WHAT?!
Remaining on the subject of answers, 'This Place is Death' seems hell bent on putting at least some of the pieces together for us: so now we know Charlotte's history, with official confirmation that yes, she was on the Island long ago and that she believes DANIEL told her not to come back. This, of course, ties with the events in the opening scene of the season as we see Farraday in Marvin Candle's time with the DHARMA Initiative. Doesn't look like he'll actually be able to change anything mind, even though he's apparently going to try (and he should know better... silly, heartbroken Physics expert). And what about her death, eh? Well, I've gotta say, that one threw me. I felt sure they'd save her somehow and that there would be some pay off for Daniel's infatuation but, alas, not. Although, one imagines this will now consume the man and that we're at least going to see little Charlotte very soon. Another prospective jigsaw piece from your friendly neighbourhood television reviewer: Charlotte = Annie? Ben's one true love from his young DHARMA Intiative days? I know it's been mentioned before (and you would think Benjamin might at least have an inkling) but the narrative does seem to be pointing more and more towards the possibility...
...and lo and behold, possibility actually becomes reality this week as Ms Hawking is revealed to be Farraday's mother. Well, no one saw that coming, did they? While her appearance did close the episode, thankfully the revelation did not, but rather her assertion that it is time to 'get to work'... without the other Oceanic Six members, it's worth noting. Honestly, anyone who hadn't figured Elouise out by this point really needs their head examined. Granted, the Elouise reference is rather oblique, given that it requires the viewer to remember a single name from a single episode last season (Daniel's rat, on whom he is performing time travel experiments, has been given this name), but the confluence of Desmond and co. at the church really should have triggered alarm bells if they hadn't been going off already. Personally though, I love this and actually shouted at my screen when the damn episode ended, just when things were about to bloody well get good.
To top all this meaty goodness off, Jacob actually makes a reappearance, helping John to turn the jammed FROZEN DONKEY WHEEL and send himself hurtling across the globe. All very intriguing, obtuse stuff this as it signals that Locke was wrong to let Ben go off the Island: the line 'since when did listening to what he says get you anywhere worth a damn?' is perhaps the most priceless of the season. And if course, more importantly, we actually get to see the time jumps have negative consequences as first the Orchid disappears before the Losties' eyes and then the well goes bye bye as John is descending it. It's about time we saw it impede their progression in a manner other than the food department, at any rate.
'This Place is Death' is a masterfully written, oblique bugger of an episode that moves from one tantalising plot strand to the next - Smokey attacks Rosseau and co.! They go crazy in its temple! Locke meets Jacob again and turns the FROZEN DONKEY WHEEL! Charlotte dies! The gang meet Farraday's mom and it's Ms Hawking! - and manages to throw a few answers our way to boot. It is very much a set up for major events to come, such as Locke's transformation into Jeremy Bentham and the plot to get back to the Island, but at this it works admirably. Plus we get some damn excellent individual scenes all round that demonstrate the wealth of acting ability in the cast: check out Farraday and Charlotte in the woods, Jin as he confronts Locke or, my personal favourite, Ben throwing a hissy fit in his van. A thoroughly successful way to whet everyone's appetite. 9.1
506: '316'
Wr: Damon Lindelof & Carlton Cuse
Dr: Stephen Williams
Synopsis: The way back to the island is revealed to members of the Oceanic 6, but there's trouble ahead when not all of them wish to return.
Review: While I'm not convinced that '316' deserves the title of 'best episode ever! OMG!' as it seems that many believe on TV.com, this is certainly one heck of a forty one minute ride from showrunners Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse. Look, as soon as those names appear at the bottom of the screen, you should instantly feel reassured that you are about to witness something at least moderately excellent. As it happens, they hit another home run with this one, managing to suckerpunch their audience with a quick '1,2' by taking the Oceanic Six back to the Island only six (hah!) episodes into the season. So much for all that speculation that they wouldn't return until the end of year five and then we'd spend season six resolving everything. Nice one guys for giving us a delicious story treat this early into the year.
Of course, it wouldn't be Lost if the return to the Island was completely straightforward. A great deal is left unexplained here: what happens to Aaron? Why is Hurley carrying a guitar case? How did Sayid end up in custody? What happened to Ben? Personally, my speculations are as follows: 1. Claire appeared to Kate again and reiterated the point that the boy must not go back to the Island. 2. The guitar case is Charlie's proxy. 3. This is a sort of proxy for Kate. 4. I reckon he went to murder Penny and got more than he bargained for... i.e. a big old battering from Mr. Hume ("You're gonna die Benjamin!" etc.) But obviously, I could be completely off on all counts. It is a little frustrating that we aren't privy to the answers to these somewhat substantial questions and that we simply have to swallow the fact that the three unwillings have somehow been turned (particularly in relation to Kate's insistence that Aaron's name never be mentioned again... that's a nice way to not have to answer this one for a while!) but then, that's Lost for you. Without the mystery, the anticipation that we'll be given answers in the future, where would we be? Admit it: it's fun to speculate and part of you enjoys the feeling of being made to wait another agonising seven days. You know it's true.
And importantly, it's not as if we weren't treated to a lorry load of answers here anyway. The first eleven minutes, in fact, act as one big information dump as Elouise talks a few of the Losties through the purpose of the CRAZY PENDULUM ROOM. This entire sequence is delectably refreshing as, for once, the dialogue actually gives comprehensive, straightforward answers to a series of questions. We learn the room's purpose, its history, how it has achieved its go0al and how Elouise expects to use it to help the Losties. And crucially, it all makes logical sense: of course the DHARMA Initiative would have to find the Island in order to perform its loopy experiments on it. Science is left behind somewhat by the notion of the 'proxy', however, and how replicating the original conditions of arrival will help them get back but then, this dichotomy between faith and science has always been at the very heart of the show. Plus, I'm sure we'll be treated to some further explanation of how all of this works (however questionable it may be) in the future. For example, what happened to the plane? Presumably, the Oceanic Six were caught in one of the temporal shifts - supported by Jin's appearance in DHARMA Initative gear - and this is how they ended up on the Island, but did the plane remain in its present time or has it shifted with them? Does the 'proxy' situation (replicating conditions) somehow limit the scope of the temporal shift to those who have been to the Island before? In which case, where is Lapitus? And could I ask any more questions in one single paragraph?
'316' is a rather unexpected about turn in the ongoing narrative, bringing the Oceanic Six (well, Five... sans Aaron) back to the Island in spectacular fashion a whole hell of a lot earlier than anyone really expected. It's Jack-centric, but it doesn't feel much like it because it is chiefly concerned with progressing the narrative and, particularly in the first quarter of the hour, providing some solid answers to a number of questions that have been lingering for some time. Next week's episode is titled 'The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham' which, presumably, means we're going to see exactly what Locke got up to after he left the Island... and how he committed suicide. And then after that... your guess is as good as mine. Fabulous stuff. 9.2
Reviews: 24 707/708/709
707: '2pm - 3pm'
Teleplay: Manny Coto & Brannon Braga
Story: Michael Loceff
Dr: Milan Cheylov
Synopsis: Dubaku begins another strike against a chemical plant in Kidron, Ohio, but his plans are cut short when Jack's team arrives at his hideout. Janis helps the plant manager avoid any casualties by manually overriding the valves. Meanwhile, Ethan becomes increasingly concerned about the whereabouts of the First Gentleman and informs the president that Henry is missing. Dubaku orders Henry brought to him to use as leverage.
Review: Prepare yourselves for an about turn ladies and gentlemen because season seven of 24 just tied up its central narrative strand after seven episodes and if my maths is correct, there's another seventeen hours to go. Michael Loceff's script manages to shift the emphasis of the season away from the horror of the WONDER DEVICE THAT CONTROLS EVERYTHING and towards the politics of governmental corruption by destroying the gizmo in a wonderfully executed shoot-out sequence in which our heroes get to kick ass, take names and fail miserably to capture Dubaku, despite annihilating everything else within sight. Oh well, I suppose they had to keep the terror levels stoked somehow, right? Shame it means connecting this narrative with the First Gentleman's because if we spend the next seven hours desperately trying to rescue the poor sod while the President whines, I might throw things at my TV. Still, that's a little harsh: at least it (hopefully) puts an end to the whole 'paralysis thing and signals the start of something more substantial for poor Colm. And to be fair to the writers, at least this is fairly original; it hasn't really been done too many times before. Nor, for that matter, has the aborting of terrorist activity. While the 'chemical release' plot is arguably a show staple, and the whole 'sympathise with the brave plant manager' thing was about as predictable as a Pendulum album, the overall narrative was salvaged by the decision to have Dubaku back down, to withdraw and regroup. This has subsequently opened up a rather intriguing narrative avenue, as the FBI and the White House desperately fumble around in the dark, completely oblivious to the reality of what is occurring. Of course, this will soon be rectified with the marriage of the Bauer and Presidential narratives (nice of them to keep Tony out of the way of this one and reaffirm his mild bad ass credentials) but all the same, it makes for some captivating viewing. Oh, and then there's Dubaku's missus... when will these women ever learn? From the Presidential aide banging Alexis Drazen in season one to the First Lady in season five, the show seems to be littered with innocent individuals blinded to their significant other's inherently evil nature. I mean come on... are you really telling me she hasn't noticed his furrowed brow? His sinister tone? The way he angrily addresses EVERYONE HE SPEAKS TO?! Or has he put on his nicey-nicey voice every time he's spoken to his fellow terrorists on the phone when in his girlfriend's diner? Nah, sorry, don't buy that for one second.
Aside from this gripe, there isn't much to criticise in '2pm - 3pm'. Loceff's script is a decidedly solid and cohesive effort, concentrating firmly on one excellently orchestrated narrative strand and generating a truckload of tension, suspense and intrigue as a result. The cogs begin to turn on the season-long plot and we see the beginning of a shift in dramatic emphasis, suggesting that next week's episode could be a bit of a corker. I honestly don't really know where they're gonna go next. But I can't wait to find out. 8.6
708: '3pm - 4pm'
Teleplay: Robert Cochran & Evan Katz
Story: David Fury
Dr: Milan Cheylov
Synopsis: Jack and Bill win an audience with the President in order to secure the necessary clearance to continue their hunt for Dubaku. Dubaku counterstrikes by kidnapping Henry and using him as bait to force President Taylor to withdraw her troops from Sangala. Renee has to make a terrible choice when she holds the family of one of Dubaku's associates at gunpoint to obtain his whereabouts.
Review: Remember the writers' strike? Oh it was so long ago now, it's so easy to forget the months of desperate turmoil we spent, praying to the televisual Gods above that the execs would just fork out the cash so that our favourite shows could continue running and we wouldn't be bereft of new material until 2009. Well, it did come to a conclusion after a while but sadly, not quick enough to save 24, which had produced a meagre eight episodes of its seventh season before the shit hit the fan. The production crew decided it would be fruitless to try to produce the remainder at such short notice and pointless to give the viewing audience half a season (well, it would betray the show's concept entirely). So they shelved the eight and waited, bided their time, produced the rest of the season and laid off broadcast until this sodding year. Meaning, of course, that there was no 24 in 2008. Bummer.
The significance for you and I, dear reader, is that this is episode eight: the last to be filmed prior to the writers' strike. It will be interesting to see just how different everyone looks or, perhaps, what ulterior direction(s) the show will go in next week, if any. Curiously, this instalment, like the one before it, seems to signal an impending shift in the direction of the narrative, acting as the culmination of the first stage of Dubaku's plans. The CIP device is gone, Henry Taylor is back in the hands of the good guys (albeit shot... OMG! Think he'll die? No way, mofos! Renee's up and about after that brutal neck wound and BEING BURIED ALIVE, with just a plaster on her neck... Taylor's gonna be fine) and the terrorist threat is apparently nulified, if you are to believe the White House anyway, which it seems that irritating pissweasel Sean JUST ISN'T WILLING TO DO. "We're being kept in the dark!", "what's going on?", wah wah. You'd think, as an FBI agent, he'd understand that sometimes, operations/developments need to be kept under the radar for a reason and that he is not going to know everything all of the time. Ah but you see, his objections are just a convenient plot device to expose Moss' involvement in the cover operation to more grunts and, eventually, to have the mole exposed. And that's exactly how it feels when viewed, which is the polar opposite of what it should be. Unless, of course, Sean is the mole, in which case his actions are actually rather clever. Hmm. Judgment reserved. For now.
Casting this potential grumble aside, '3pm - 4pm' does come across as a refreshingly cohesive episode, predicated solely on the retrieval of Taylor within an alloted timeframe. This is something that 24 does exceedingly well when it rolls itn out: elevating dramatic tension by keeping the viewer tied to the clock within the hour. We are aware, painfully, of the ever diminishing timespan that Bauer has to find the guy and this suspense bukds as the seconds tick down. It's a simple but completely effective dramatic technique and one that should be used more often. Pleasingly, the whining about Henry is kept to a minimum and Cherry Jones does a stellar job of selling her unenviable moral dilemma, particularly in the scene in which Dubaku first contacts her. On the rescue operation front, Kiefer is top notch as always: from 'ask around' to 'are you gonna give me your keys or not?', this episode is packed with blassic Bauerisms, one liners that have you punching the air with glee. Yeah, stick it to 'em Jack, you tell those namby pamby idiots that no one's playing by their rules! Go on, stare the President in the face and give her a 'with all due respect' when she questions your loyalties! Go Bauer, go Bauer, go... *ahem*
And go Renee too. Check out the way she turns from reluctant, law-abiding FBI agent to FULL BLOWN INSANITY MACHINE as she threatens Vossler's wife and child with considerable venom. Comes rather easily, no? Sudden change of personality, you think? Little bit unbelievable, maybe? Well yeah, but it kinda rules all the same. It's a brilliant sequence, even if I don't buy that she'd actually do it, and it is tempered a little with her emotive moment with Jack in the aftermath. And speaking of emotive moments, can I get a wholehearted 'meh!' for Sean and HIS BINT, please? No one cares guys, keep these agency psycho-politics to a minimum, would ya? Thankfully, Dubaku's love interest element isn't too bad but you just know that he's gonna kill lovely Rosa, that the girlfriend will find her, go to the FBI and that's how they'll start to track him down again. Perhaps it's just becoming a bit too easy to read 24 after seven years...
A strong episode on the whole and one that feels confident due to its concentration on a single narrative element: finding Henry Taylor. There are some less than stellar elements - occasional narrative distractions, a few convenient developments - but generally, this remains encouragingly solid stuff. And if they've had about a year to prepare the next run, I can't wait to see what they can give us next. Optimism: am I a fool to covet thee? 8.7
709: '4pm - 5pm'
Wr: David Fury
Dr: Milan Cheylov
Synopsis: Jack and Renee track a lead to Dubaku's unsuspecting girlfriend, who, after learning of his true motives, agrees to help lead them to Dubaku before he flees the country. Meanwhile, Chloe O'Brian is brought in to the FBI to run tactical, but her progress is thwarted by a mole inside the agency. President Taylor is stunned to hear that her husband has been shot and is escorted to the hospital by Bill. She requests that her daughter be brought in, a task which Bill delegates to an old friend.
Review: And so we begin the post-writers' strike batch of the season with a fresh batch of narrative strands, a few loose ends tied up and a rather unexpected revelation. Everyone manages to look slightly different to their first eight episode selves - you can mostly tell by the hair length, particularly on Renee and Larry - but then, I suppose this is a change we're just going to have to accept. One thing that hasn't changed, however, is the quality of the writing. David Fury's script is a thoroughly entertaining story reboot, sparkling at points with intelligent, well-written dialogue and some superbly pitched pacing.
While '4pm - 5pm' essentially consists of the movement of narrative pieces around a board, manouevering individuals into position for the various new directions that the programme is about to take, it manages to successfully hide this fact by virtue of its originality. First, with the plot having effectively culminated at the end of the last hour with little or no loose ends, it is difficult to predict the avenues down which the show will turn. Second, the decision to introduce Chloe into the FBI HQ is an absolute stroke of genius. Not only does it promise an utterly spectacular showdown between she and Janine Garofolo (all those stares between rooms speak volumes), but it also gives a completely fresh take o the 'introducing a new element to the standard mix' plot trope. In past seasons, 24 has often taken the (sometimes necessary, sometimes not) route of bringing an outside source into CTU to oversee developments. This frequently creates a great whack of tension betwen our favourite, loveable characters and the new guy(s). Here, Fury flips the whole thing on its head by reversing the process. Chloe, the familiar character, the one we trust and have come to love, is introduced to the new locale and we are able to witness the phonomenon from the ulterior perspective. This gives the narrative a feeling of originality and opens up a whole new arena of possibility. Third, there is the mole revelation. While everyone and his dog thought something was up with Sean since minute one of hour one, no one actually believed he would be the dirty one. It was just too damn predictable: I mean, they were only trying to throw us off the scent regarding the real mole, right? Well actually, they were doing something far cleverer: orchestrating a double bluff. They made it so obvious that we ruled him out altogether and now we're eating our words in the process. It's perhaps the only successful way left of pulling the wool over all of our eyes... well, save for Jack being the bad guy and that.
This particular revelation is also tied in with a wonderfully executed sequence in the midst of Dubaku's girlfriend's journey to their rendezvous. This element in itself is perhaps the most telegraphed of the hour - it's obvious from the moment Jack and Renee burst through the door that she's going to be used as bait in an effort to capture Ike (this was a nice, 'jump out of your skin' moment though) - but the police's interception of Jack and Renee is completely unexpected and adds a distinct air of uncertainty to the trajectory of the next episode. With the two heroes stalled at present, will Dubaku manage to do off his lover and escape? Or will the police release them within the nick of time? For the sake of my sanity, I hope it's the former.
Other points worthy of note here include the President's decision to be with her husband, which is a deftly believable and very human touch. Where previous heads of state may have been swayed by their advisors to remain in office 'for the good of the country', Taylor follows her gut and gives us some lovely emotive scenes to boot. Then there's the respective returns of Aaron Pierce and Morris O'Brien: thankfully, these are restricted to cameo appearances rather than full blown introductions to the season-long narrative and they're more than welcome for it. An dfinally, we have a minor cause for celebration in the defective nature of the technology in FBI HQ which, for once, makes it so that Chloe is unable to solve everything with a quick fix. Just another example of some neat out-of-the-box thinking that makes the narrative seem fresh. Oh and did anyone else spot David Fury, the episode's writer, making an appearance as the businessman that the President's daughter is trying to win over? No? Oh well.
With so little to pick holes in, '4pm - 5pm' can only be considered something of a success. While it's hardly a rip-roaring action fest, some strong writing and original narrative touches elevate it above standard 24 fare and make the episode a thoroughly entertaining and rewarding ride. Let's hope this strength is inherent in the remainder of the season. 8.7
Teleplay: Manny Coto & Brannon Braga
Story: Michael Loceff
Dr: Milan Cheylov
Synopsis: Dubaku begins another strike against a chemical plant in Kidron, Ohio, but his plans are cut short when Jack's team arrives at his hideout. Janis helps the plant manager avoid any casualties by manually overriding the valves. Meanwhile, Ethan becomes increasingly concerned about the whereabouts of the First Gentleman and informs the president that Henry is missing. Dubaku orders Henry brought to him to use as leverage.
Review: Prepare yourselves for an about turn ladies and gentlemen because season seven of 24 just tied up its central narrative strand after seven episodes and if my maths is correct, there's another seventeen hours to go. Michael Loceff's script manages to shift the emphasis of the season away from the horror of the WONDER DEVICE THAT CONTROLS EVERYTHING and towards the politics of governmental corruption by destroying the gizmo in a wonderfully executed shoot-out sequence in which our heroes get to kick ass, take names and fail miserably to capture Dubaku, despite annihilating everything else within sight. Oh well, I suppose they had to keep the terror levels stoked somehow, right? Shame it means connecting this narrative with the First Gentleman's because if we spend the next seven hours desperately trying to rescue the poor sod while the President whines, I might throw things at my TV. Still, that's a little harsh: at least it (hopefully) puts an end to the whole 'paralysis thing and signals the start of something more substantial for poor Colm. And to be fair to the writers, at least this is fairly original; it hasn't really been done too many times before. Nor, for that matter, has the aborting of terrorist activity. While the 'chemical release' plot is arguably a show staple, and the whole 'sympathise with the brave plant manager' thing was about as predictable as a Pendulum album, the overall narrative was salvaged by the decision to have Dubaku back down, to withdraw and regroup. This has subsequently opened up a rather intriguing narrative avenue, as the FBI and the White House desperately fumble around in the dark, completely oblivious to the reality of what is occurring. Of course, this will soon be rectified with the marriage of the Bauer and Presidential narratives (nice of them to keep Tony out of the way of this one and reaffirm his mild bad ass credentials) but all the same, it makes for some captivating viewing. Oh, and then there's Dubaku's missus... when will these women ever learn? From the Presidential aide banging Alexis Drazen in season one to the First Lady in season five, the show seems to be littered with innocent individuals blinded to their significant other's inherently evil nature. I mean come on... are you really telling me she hasn't noticed his furrowed brow? His sinister tone? The way he angrily addresses EVERYONE HE SPEAKS TO?! Or has he put on his nicey-nicey voice every time he's spoken to his fellow terrorists on the phone when in his girlfriend's diner? Nah, sorry, don't buy that for one second.
Aside from this gripe, there isn't much to criticise in '2pm - 3pm'. Loceff's script is a decidedly solid and cohesive effort, concentrating firmly on one excellently orchestrated narrative strand and generating a truckload of tension, suspense and intrigue as a result. The cogs begin to turn on the season-long plot and we see the beginning of a shift in dramatic emphasis, suggesting that next week's episode could be a bit of a corker. I honestly don't really know where they're gonna go next. But I can't wait to find out. 8.6
708: '3pm - 4pm'
Teleplay: Robert Cochran & Evan Katz
Story: David Fury
Dr: Milan Cheylov
Synopsis: Jack and Bill win an audience with the President in order to secure the necessary clearance to continue their hunt for Dubaku. Dubaku counterstrikes by kidnapping Henry and using him as bait to force President Taylor to withdraw her troops from Sangala. Renee has to make a terrible choice when she holds the family of one of Dubaku's associates at gunpoint to obtain his whereabouts.
Review: Remember the writers' strike? Oh it was so long ago now, it's so easy to forget the months of desperate turmoil we spent, praying to the televisual Gods above that the execs would just fork out the cash so that our favourite shows could continue running and we wouldn't be bereft of new material until 2009. Well, it did come to a conclusion after a while but sadly, not quick enough to save 24, which had produced a meagre eight episodes of its seventh season before the shit hit the fan. The production crew decided it would be fruitless to try to produce the remainder at such short notice and pointless to give the viewing audience half a season (well, it would betray the show's concept entirely). So they shelved the eight and waited, bided their time, produced the rest of the season and laid off broadcast until this sodding year. Meaning, of course, that there was no 24 in 2008. Bummer.
The significance for you and I, dear reader, is that this is episode eight: the last to be filmed prior to the writers' strike. It will be interesting to see just how different everyone looks or, perhaps, what ulterior direction(s) the show will go in next week, if any. Curiously, this instalment, like the one before it, seems to signal an impending shift in the direction of the narrative, acting as the culmination of the first stage of Dubaku's plans. The CIP device is gone, Henry Taylor is back in the hands of the good guys (albeit shot... OMG! Think he'll die? No way, mofos! Renee's up and about after that brutal neck wound and BEING BURIED ALIVE, with just a plaster on her neck... Taylor's gonna be fine) and the terrorist threat is apparently nulified, if you are to believe the White House anyway, which it seems that irritating pissweasel Sean JUST ISN'T WILLING TO DO. "We're being kept in the dark!", "what's going on?", wah wah. You'd think, as an FBI agent, he'd understand that sometimes, operations/developments need to be kept under the radar for a reason and that he is not going to know everything all of the time. Ah but you see, his objections are just a convenient plot device to expose Moss' involvement in the cover operation to more grunts and, eventually, to have the mole exposed. And that's exactly how it feels when viewed, which is the polar opposite of what it should be. Unless, of course, Sean is the mole, in which case his actions are actually rather clever. Hmm. Judgment reserved. For now.
Casting this potential grumble aside, '3pm - 4pm' does come across as a refreshingly cohesive episode, predicated solely on the retrieval of Taylor within an alloted timeframe. This is something that 24 does exceedingly well when it rolls itn out: elevating dramatic tension by keeping the viewer tied to the clock within the hour. We are aware, painfully, of the ever diminishing timespan that Bauer has to find the guy and this suspense bukds as the seconds tick down. It's a simple but completely effective dramatic technique and one that should be used more often. Pleasingly, the whining about Henry is kept to a minimum and Cherry Jones does a stellar job of selling her unenviable moral dilemma, particularly in the scene in which Dubaku first contacts her. On the rescue operation front, Kiefer is top notch as always: from 'ask around' to 'are you gonna give me your keys or not?', this episode is packed with blassic Bauerisms, one liners that have you punching the air with glee. Yeah, stick it to 'em Jack, you tell those namby pamby idiots that no one's playing by their rules! Go on, stare the President in the face and give her a 'with all due respect' when she questions your loyalties! Go Bauer, go Bauer, go... *ahem*
And go Renee too. Check out the way she turns from reluctant, law-abiding FBI agent to FULL BLOWN INSANITY MACHINE as she threatens Vossler's wife and child with considerable venom. Comes rather easily, no? Sudden change of personality, you think? Little bit unbelievable, maybe? Well yeah, but it kinda rules all the same. It's a brilliant sequence, even if I don't buy that she'd actually do it, and it is tempered a little with her emotive moment with Jack in the aftermath. And speaking of emotive moments, can I get a wholehearted 'meh!' for Sean and HIS BINT, please? No one cares guys, keep these agency psycho-politics to a minimum, would ya? Thankfully, Dubaku's love interest element isn't too bad but you just know that he's gonna kill lovely Rosa, that the girlfriend will find her, go to the FBI and that's how they'll start to track him down again. Perhaps it's just becoming a bit too easy to read 24 after seven years...
A strong episode on the whole and one that feels confident due to its concentration on a single narrative element: finding Henry Taylor. There are some less than stellar elements - occasional narrative distractions, a few convenient developments - but generally, this remains encouragingly solid stuff. And if they've had about a year to prepare the next run, I can't wait to see what they can give us next. Optimism: am I a fool to covet thee? 8.7
709: '4pm - 5pm'
Wr: David Fury
Dr: Milan Cheylov
Synopsis: Jack and Renee track a lead to Dubaku's unsuspecting girlfriend, who, after learning of his true motives, agrees to help lead them to Dubaku before he flees the country. Meanwhile, Chloe O'Brian is brought in to the FBI to run tactical, but her progress is thwarted by a mole inside the agency. President Taylor is stunned to hear that her husband has been shot and is escorted to the hospital by Bill. She requests that her daughter be brought in, a task which Bill delegates to an old friend.
Review: And so we begin the post-writers' strike batch of the season with a fresh batch of narrative strands, a few loose ends tied up and a rather unexpected revelation. Everyone manages to look slightly different to their first eight episode selves - you can mostly tell by the hair length, particularly on Renee and Larry - but then, I suppose this is a change we're just going to have to accept. One thing that hasn't changed, however, is the quality of the writing. David Fury's script is a thoroughly entertaining story reboot, sparkling at points with intelligent, well-written dialogue and some superbly pitched pacing.
While '4pm - 5pm' essentially consists of the movement of narrative pieces around a board, manouevering individuals into position for the various new directions that the programme is about to take, it manages to successfully hide this fact by virtue of its originality. First, with the plot having effectively culminated at the end of the last hour with little or no loose ends, it is difficult to predict the avenues down which the show will turn. Second, the decision to introduce Chloe into the FBI HQ is an absolute stroke of genius. Not only does it promise an utterly spectacular showdown between she and Janine Garofolo (all those stares between rooms speak volumes), but it also gives a completely fresh take o the 'introducing a new element to the standard mix' plot trope. In past seasons, 24 has often taken the (sometimes necessary, sometimes not) route of bringing an outside source into CTU to oversee developments. This frequently creates a great whack of tension betwen our favourite, loveable characters and the new guy(s). Here, Fury flips the whole thing on its head by reversing the process. Chloe, the familiar character, the one we trust and have come to love, is introduced to the new locale and we are able to witness the phonomenon from the ulterior perspective. This gives the narrative a feeling of originality and opens up a whole new arena of possibility. Third, there is the mole revelation. While everyone and his dog thought something was up with Sean since minute one of hour one, no one actually believed he would be the dirty one. It was just too damn predictable: I mean, they were only trying to throw us off the scent regarding the real mole, right? Well actually, they were doing something far cleverer: orchestrating a double bluff. They made it so obvious that we ruled him out altogether and now we're eating our words in the process. It's perhaps the only successful way left of pulling the wool over all of our eyes... well, save for Jack being the bad guy and that.
This particular revelation is also tied in with a wonderfully executed sequence in the midst of Dubaku's girlfriend's journey to their rendezvous. This element in itself is perhaps the most telegraphed of the hour - it's obvious from the moment Jack and Renee burst through the door that she's going to be used as bait in an effort to capture Ike (this was a nice, 'jump out of your skin' moment though) - but the police's interception of Jack and Renee is completely unexpected and adds a distinct air of uncertainty to the trajectory of the next episode. With the two heroes stalled at present, will Dubaku manage to do off his lover and escape? Or will the police release them within the nick of time? For the sake of my sanity, I hope it's the former.
Other points worthy of note here include the President's decision to be with her husband, which is a deftly believable and very human touch. Where previous heads of state may have been swayed by their advisors to remain in office 'for the good of the country', Taylor follows her gut and gives us some lovely emotive scenes to boot. Then there's the respective returns of Aaron Pierce and Morris O'Brien: thankfully, these are restricted to cameo appearances rather than full blown introductions to the season-long narrative and they're more than welcome for it. An dfinally, we have a minor cause for celebration in the defective nature of the technology in FBI HQ which, for once, makes it so that Chloe is unable to solve everything with a quick fix. Just another example of some neat out-of-the-box thinking that makes the narrative seem fresh. Oh and did anyone else spot David Fury, the episode's writer, making an appearance as the businessman that the President's daughter is trying to win over? No? Oh well.
With so little to pick holes in, '4pm - 5pm' can only be considered something of a success. While it's hardly a rip-roaring action fest, some strong writing and original narrative touches elevate it above standard 24 fare and make the episode a thoroughly entertaining and rewarding ride. Let's hope this strength is inherent in the remainder of the season. 8.7
Reviews: Heroes 314/315/316
314: 'A Clear and Present Danger'
Wr: Tim Kring
Dr: Greg Yaitanes
Synopsis: After the battle between Pinehearst and Primatech, Pete, Claire, Matt, and Daphne try to live normal lives, while a powerless Hiro tries to teach Ando how to use his new special ability and become a superhero. However, Claire discovers Nathan's plan to track down those with abilities.
Review: Much has been made of the perceived failure of Heroes' third volume, 'Villains'. Television periodicals stoked viewer panic with feature after feature decrying the show's descent into mundanity. 'Too much plot!', 'not enough character development!', 'forced character changes!', 'betrayals of continuity!', 'lack of motivation!', 'too much time travel!': all sensationalised headlines that, when combined, painted a bleak portrait of a show on the cusp of sinking under the weight of its own highly set standards. To be fair, some of these criticisms have a degree of validity: certainly, by the end of the volume, cracks were beginning to appear in the masterplan. Things were getting a little too sloppy. So, out go the convoluted generation-spanning mythology arcs about previously-thought dead fathers and complex scientific formulas and in comes a straightforward narrative singularity about otherness and social segregation. While I still have trouble buying into Nathan's transformation into a contemporary Adolf Hitler, I suppose it's something I'm just going to have to swallow if I wish to impartially enjoy and review the show. And honestly, aside from this niggling scab and the reappearance of Sylar WHO REALLY NEEDS TO LEARN TO STAY DEAD (even if his plot is fairly minimal and more than a little pleasingly creepy), Kring's script works really rather well.
There's something refreshing about the simplicity of the thing: there's no grand scheme to destroy the world or mobilise an army. All we have here is one man's psychotic desire to round up those like him and throw them as far away as possible, probably due to his own internalised phobia and self-loathing. The plot moves forward at a steady pace, maneouvering everyone into position, and gives us a rather delightful climactic sequence in which everyone gets to dress up in Slipknot jumpsuits and have an in-flight catastrophe. It's excitingly disturbing stuff and does show promise, although I have my concerns over the possibilities inherent in the narrative trajectory. Hopefully, things won't be as simple as CRAZY PSYCHO Zelko Ivanjek chases after the Heroes week in, week out and they stay one step ahead of him because Parkman is now, conveniently enough, a prophet. While every second that Andre Drazen, sorry Ivanjek, is on our screens is a joy to behold, that would become very old, very fast. The last thing Heroes needs is to become an overblown chase narrative in which everyone runs around for forty five long, drawn out minutes. The show is so much more than that and let's hope that Kring and co.'s desire to up the ratings and please the critics by calming things down doesn't mean that they send the show into cardiac arrest. Still, an encouraging start to volume four and arguably worth it for the Ando Cycle alone. Here's to a revitalised programme! 8.5
315: 'Trust and Blood'
Wr: Mark Verheiden
Dr: Allan Arkush
Synopsis: Our heroes truly become fugitives, and they are on the run from one of their own. Sylar begins the search for his father, and Matt's paintings reveal a dark fate.
Review: What a difference a simple production staff change makes, eh? Please welcome into the fray Mr. Mark Verherden, the man responsible for penning some of the greatest (among many great) episodes of Battlestar Galactica in the last couple of years; thankfully, he's now been poached by Kring and is setting his mind to scribing beauties like 'Trust and Blood'. Granted, there's nothing particularly awe-inspiring about the plot: the premise retains the air of simplicity struck up in last week's volume premiere, focusing on individual efforts to escape the clutches of the dreaded Nathan/Andre Drazen machine (oh and Sylar's hunt to find his father) but this is, in itself, breathing life into the tapestry of the show. Verherden's script just orchestrates the whole thing with such flair and panache that you can't help but be impressed. I mean, check out the dialogue man! How much of an improvement is this! Aside from a slightly mawkish final scene between Peter, Hiro, Ando, Matt and Mohinder, the clumsy one-liners delivered cheesily to camera and coming across forced and unbelievable are gone. In their place, we have intelligent conversation (such as the social debate between Nathan and his Hunter) and words that flow from the actors' mouths and,, more importantly, that are damn well in character. Matt, Hiro and Mohinder's lines as a trio in particular are indicative of this but, to be honest, it's difficult to pinpoint specific examples because the quality permeates the entire script.
Verherden is a master at making something interesting out of the apparently mundane. His narrative doesn't simply coast along on fabulaic auto-pilot, revealing events in a standard syntagmatic fashion. Instead, he interjects the plot's development with flashes of a future (in terms of the story chronology) piece, in which Nathan is relaying the details of 'Trust and Blood's contemporary sequences to an unknown listener, later revealed to be the sinister Angela. This not only gives credence to some of Nathan's actions and begins to allow us to see why he's turned into a mini-Hitler (just without the bloodlust... yet), it also lends the narrative an original sheen that has perhaps been missing from previous episodes. It displaces the viewer for it is outside of the chronological story development and that's just the kind of thing the show should be doing more: surprising us in whatever ways possible.
Speaking of surprises, poor poor Daphne. Gone bye bye... well, we think. And we barely knew her. I quite enjoyed her character and I question the sense in gettingr id of someone with so much potential so flippantly (shock value, much?) but, there again, the desired effect is achieved: it gives us all the opportunity to sit bolt upright and scream "you what?" at the TV. There's also the final scene with Tracey which seems a little ominous... what are they doing to her/where are they taking her? Nathan remarks 'don't fight it' and the anchoring/presentation of the scene seems to suggest there is something significantly bad going on: is it just that she's being carted off to some concentration camp or are they actually going to kill her? Nicely ambiguous that one. And so, for that matter, is Sylar's story which finally, after all these weeks, is actually becoming interesting again. His screen time is kept to just the right level and his dialogue is replete with the kind of unrelenting, warped malice that made us all love to hate him back in season one. No cheesy one-liners, no questioning his own inate evilness... just backwards psychology and manipulative bastardom. Zachary Quinto is wonderful when he's psychoanalysing the crazed mother/son relationship and thankfully, the child that he's been given to play off seems to be a very competent young actor too... so no cringeworthy moments to come, hopefully. I like this development in all honesty because it really is something completely new. It offers u a whole wealth of possibilities for Sylar's previously stilted narrative... oh, and how cool was the torture? That shit looked nasty...
Last week, I wrote that that I was fearful that 'Fugitives' might end up becoming a victim of its own simplicity, turning into one long, drawn out chase narrative that could bore the tweed off a Physics lecturer. While 'Trust and Blood' keeps the story simple, certainly, it circumnavigates this problem by keeping the writing strong, believable and, most importantly of all, finding fresh ways to present it. Well done Kring: poaching Verherden was a masterstroke. Now just get him to write the rest of the season. Ta. 8.6
316: 'Building 26'
Wr: Rob Fresco
Dr: Sergio Mimica-Gezzan
Synopsis: As the President sends a representative to investigate Nathan's activities, Sylar continues his quest to find his father. Hiro and Ando travel to India to fulfill the destiny shown by Matt's drawing, and Claire risks her father's wrath to protect a new friend.
Review: I've said it before and I'll say it again... you just can't please Heroes fans. If they're not rubbishing their favourite show for its apparent complexity, they're berating it for being slow moving and 'boring'. Now, it's certainly worth reminding ourselves of the age-old credo, 'you can't please all of the people all of the time', but it seems that the Heroes audience is never happy; or, at least, it would appear so if you spend your time idly lurking on the show's many interweb forums like a sad bastard, as I do. Ahem. The central issue, it seems, is that the fans want the programme to return to the heady days of season one when things were 'more original, characters were less convoluted and stories were more interesting'. The problem, of course, is that as soon as you ask a show to go backwards, it stops being original or interesting and instead it becomes a rehash of itself, trying desperately to counter the highly natural tide of story development. Things. Change. It's inevitable. You simply cannot expect any halfway deent show to remain in a self-contained bubble, especially not one WITH AN ONGOING PLOT. While a number of the changes inherent in Heroes haven't exactly been executed as well as they could have been, the very fact that the show is willing to progress should be something that we encourage, not lambast. The answer is not to return to the stylistics of the first season: it's to write change in a more convincing and enjoyable fashion. Just look at the other serialised shows on TV at the moment: Lost, Battlestar Galactica, Supernatural... none of these are much like their debut seasons but, crucially, they are far, far better for it. Development is the cornerstone of a successful, ongoing drama, not the enemy.
With this in mind, it is easy to see where 'Building 26' falls regrettably short. The episode tries its very best to restore some perceived 'loss' of season one characteristics by concentrating squarely on the kind of character facets that were implicit in the central players back when we were first introduced to them. So, Hiro and Ando make a completely pointless trip to Inia in an effort to regain Hiro's 'destiny' (his powers). Naturally, there's a moral lesson in this escapade: that you don't need powers to be a hero. Well, there's a revelation. This motif has been reiterated to death by the show since the get go. Hell, we even have a character who effectively acts as an encapsulation of this fact: Ando himself. Sure, it's mildly interesting to see the roles reversed in their relationship but on the whole, the narrative creaks with the rot of aged familiarity. There is no logic to the journey either: the pair travel to India simply because the painting indicates that they do, rather tha out of some need that the painting happens to reflect, and in so doing, the only ultimate outcome is the receipt of a message from REBEL about Matt... which, surely, they didn't need to travel abroad to receive. Hiro's epiphany, for me, just doesn't have the weight or relevance to justify devoting an entire B-storyline to a, quite frankly, ludicrously boring and cliched story about a woman who doesn't wish to enter into an arranged marriage. With every beat, the plot becomes still more predictable: as Ando convinces the bride to call off the wedding in two seconds, so it becomes clear that the groom will reinitiate it. Once Ando is kidnapped, Hiro's adoption of the role of intercessor is assured. And then, once the wedding begins, Hiro's interference is achingly obvious. The entire story can be read before it unfolds onscreen and that, my friends, certainly isn't the sign of a rivetingly written narrative.
That it were only this strand that falls victim to this problem. Sadly, it's rife elsewhere too, particularly in Claire/HRG's narrative. Fresco tries desperately to restore the conflict that made their story such a success in season one but, in so doing, makes the whole thing feel like a tired retread of things past. These two characters have grown significantly since we were first introduced to them: they've had so many reconciliatory father/daughter moments based on his desire to protect her and her assertion she she doesn't need protecting/what he is doing goes beyond the acceptable that I've lost count. And yet, here we fucking go again. It's the same plot beat we've had forced down our throats for far too long; during the early season three episodes, it seemed it was buried, or at least put to rest for a while. Now, we have the whole damn thing all over again, in glorious technicolor. Claire rebels against her father's wishes and brings a cute boy along for the ride (um, West, anyone?) It's just yawnsome. And the fact that she pulls the wool over his eyes for the majority of the episode is just plain unbelievable. How mnay times has she rebelled now? It's practically a pre-requisite. He'd have her surveilled or locked in her room or something as soon as she raised the slightest objection. But no, in the interests of servicing the plot (getting it to the point where HRG can be kidnapped), she gets away with it AGAIN. It's almost insulting to the viewer to expect us to swallow this sort of thing. Granted, it does give us the rather unexpected development of having HRG estranged from his wife but this doesn't make up for the boredom induced by the predictability of the remainder of the storyline.
There are additional problems elsewhere, too. While Nathan's story is at least a decent attempt at exploring the politics of his actions, it is fraught with story inconsistencies and illogical developments. First, why would Homeland send a non-believer to investigate the activities of Building 26? Particualrly when this decision will have been overseen by the President? The head of state is aware of Nathan's project; hell, HE ACTIVATED IT. He is, therefore, a believer in the existence of powers and any investigation would surely have been into the human rights aspect of the operation alone. Thus, someone privy to the reality would have been brought in, not a skeptic. The only reason for this is to serve the plot, so that conflict can be created out of an attempt to illustrate both sides of the political debate. Very lazy guys. And then there's Tracey's 'escape'. This is utterly, utterly ridiculous. Right, so she understands that someone loosened her shackles to facilitate her escape and that this was designed to win the doubting Thomas (WHO SHE KNOWS AND IS HER FRIEND) over to Nathan's side. You know, the woman who actually sympathises with her situation and may be able to help her out of it... as she actually tells her when she first enters her cell. So what does Tracey Strauss, sensible, inteligent, expert at conniving and political maneouvering, do? She murders the man who tries to recapture her, in power-centric fashion! It isn't even accidental! And she does it right in front of the woman WHO WAS GOING TO HELP HER AND DIDN'T BELIEVE SHE WAS A MONSTER! Eh?! This is completely and utterly unbelievable, especially given that Strauss seems to understand that she was being manipulated: so she just went along with it? Oh yeah, very sensible. Again, this just illustrates the lazy nature of the writing: Tracey's illogical move is simply a convenient method of getting the story to the point that Fresco needs: no governmental objection to Nathan's operation. It's a shame that this decision taints what is otherwise a fairly competent strand. There are some strong interchanges between characters (particularly Nathan and the Hunter) and the race/difference allegory is well woven. But,a gain, flawed writing gets in the way of this success.
The only aspect of the episode that escapes these problems is Sylar's story which remains somewhat refreshing thanks to the inclusion of the child. Once again, there's some good interplay between the two and the development of their somewhat warped surrogate father/son relationship is moving at a pleasing pace. Zachary Quinto is particularly good this week, returning Sylar to the manipulative, evil SOB of old while also interjecting enough compassionate difference to stress the changes he is going through. Crucially, they are nothing like the complete about turn that compromised his character in 'Villains': they are slight tweaks, not personality shifts. Sadly, however, this is not enough to save 'Building 26'. The remaining strands, while far from excerable, are fraught with problems, the most prominent of which is the failed execution of some perceived 'need' to return to the trappings of season one. This is the last thing Heroes needs right now: it should be moving forward, not traipsing back. If it doesn't regain its focus and momentum soon, I fear for the show's survival. Let's hope this was one is just a blip. 6.2
Wr: Tim Kring
Dr: Greg Yaitanes
Synopsis: After the battle between Pinehearst and Primatech, Pete, Claire, Matt, and Daphne try to live normal lives, while a powerless Hiro tries to teach Ando how to use his new special ability and become a superhero. However, Claire discovers Nathan's plan to track down those with abilities.
Review: Much has been made of the perceived failure of Heroes' third volume, 'Villains'. Television periodicals stoked viewer panic with feature after feature decrying the show's descent into mundanity. 'Too much plot!', 'not enough character development!', 'forced character changes!', 'betrayals of continuity!', 'lack of motivation!', 'too much time travel!': all sensationalised headlines that, when combined, painted a bleak portrait of a show on the cusp of sinking under the weight of its own highly set standards. To be fair, some of these criticisms have a degree of validity: certainly, by the end of the volume, cracks were beginning to appear in the masterplan. Things were getting a little too sloppy. So, out go the convoluted generation-spanning mythology arcs about previously-thought dead fathers and complex scientific formulas and in comes a straightforward narrative singularity about otherness and social segregation. While I still have trouble buying into Nathan's transformation into a contemporary Adolf Hitler, I suppose it's something I'm just going to have to swallow if I wish to impartially enjoy and review the show. And honestly, aside from this niggling scab and the reappearance of Sylar WHO REALLY NEEDS TO LEARN TO STAY DEAD (even if his plot is fairly minimal and more than a little pleasingly creepy), Kring's script works really rather well.
There's something refreshing about the simplicity of the thing: there's no grand scheme to destroy the world or mobilise an army. All we have here is one man's psychotic desire to round up those like him and throw them as far away as possible, probably due to his own internalised phobia and self-loathing. The plot moves forward at a steady pace, maneouvering everyone into position, and gives us a rather delightful climactic sequence in which everyone gets to dress up in Slipknot jumpsuits and have an in-flight catastrophe. It's excitingly disturbing stuff and does show promise, although I have my concerns over the possibilities inherent in the narrative trajectory. Hopefully, things won't be as simple as CRAZY PSYCHO Zelko Ivanjek chases after the Heroes week in, week out and they stay one step ahead of him because Parkman is now, conveniently enough, a prophet. While every second that Andre Drazen, sorry Ivanjek, is on our screens is a joy to behold, that would become very old, very fast. The last thing Heroes needs is to become an overblown chase narrative in which everyone runs around for forty five long, drawn out minutes. The show is so much more than that and let's hope that Kring and co.'s desire to up the ratings and please the critics by calming things down doesn't mean that they send the show into cardiac arrest. Still, an encouraging start to volume four and arguably worth it for the Ando Cycle alone. Here's to a revitalised programme! 8.5
315: 'Trust and Blood'
Wr: Mark Verheiden
Dr: Allan Arkush
Synopsis: Our heroes truly become fugitives, and they are on the run from one of their own. Sylar begins the search for his father, and Matt's paintings reveal a dark fate.
Review: What a difference a simple production staff change makes, eh? Please welcome into the fray Mr. Mark Verherden, the man responsible for penning some of the greatest (among many great) episodes of Battlestar Galactica in the last couple of years; thankfully, he's now been poached by Kring and is setting his mind to scribing beauties like 'Trust and Blood'. Granted, there's nothing particularly awe-inspiring about the plot: the premise retains the air of simplicity struck up in last week's volume premiere, focusing on individual efforts to escape the clutches of the dreaded Nathan/Andre Drazen machine (oh and Sylar's hunt to find his father) but this is, in itself, breathing life into the tapestry of the show. Verherden's script just orchestrates the whole thing with such flair and panache that you can't help but be impressed. I mean, check out the dialogue man! How much of an improvement is this! Aside from a slightly mawkish final scene between Peter, Hiro, Ando, Matt and Mohinder, the clumsy one-liners delivered cheesily to camera and coming across forced and unbelievable are gone. In their place, we have intelligent conversation (such as the social debate between Nathan and his Hunter) and words that flow from the actors' mouths and,, more importantly, that are damn well in character. Matt, Hiro and Mohinder's lines as a trio in particular are indicative of this but, to be honest, it's difficult to pinpoint specific examples because the quality permeates the entire script.
Verherden is a master at making something interesting out of the apparently mundane. His narrative doesn't simply coast along on fabulaic auto-pilot, revealing events in a standard syntagmatic fashion. Instead, he interjects the plot's development with flashes of a future (in terms of the story chronology) piece, in which Nathan is relaying the details of 'Trust and Blood's contemporary sequences to an unknown listener, later revealed to be the sinister Angela. This not only gives credence to some of Nathan's actions and begins to allow us to see why he's turned into a mini-Hitler (just without the bloodlust... yet), it also lends the narrative an original sheen that has perhaps been missing from previous episodes. It displaces the viewer for it is outside of the chronological story development and that's just the kind of thing the show should be doing more: surprising us in whatever ways possible.
Speaking of surprises, poor poor Daphne. Gone bye bye... well, we think. And we barely knew her. I quite enjoyed her character and I question the sense in gettingr id of someone with so much potential so flippantly (shock value, much?) but, there again, the desired effect is achieved: it gives us all the opportunity to sit bolt upright and scream "you what?" at the TV. There's also the final scene with Tracey which seems a little ominous... what are they doing to her/where are they taking her? Nathan remarks 'don't fight it' and the anchoring/presentation of the scene seems to suggest there is something significantly bad going on: is it just that she's being carted off to some concentration camp or are they actually going to kill her? Nicely ambiguous that one. And so, for that matter, is Sylar's story which finally, after all these weeks, is actually becoming interesting again. His screen time is kept to just the right level and his dialogue is replete with the kind of unrelenting, warped malice that made us all love to hate him back in season one. No cheesy one-liners, no questioning his own inate evilness... just backwards psychology and manipulative bastardom. Zachary Quinto is wonderful when he's psychoanalysing the crazed mother/son relationship and thankfully, the child that he's been given to play off seems to be a very competent young actor too... so no cringeworthy moments to come, hopefully. I like this development in all honesty because it really is something completely new. It offers u a whole wealth of possibilities for Sylar's previously stilted narrative... oh, and how cool was the torture? That shit looked nasty...
Last week, I wrote that that I was fearful that 'Fugitives' might end up becoming a victim of its own simplicity, turning into one long, drawn out chase narrative that could bore the tweed off a Physics lecturer. While 'Trust and Blood' keeps the story simple, certainly, it circumnavigates this problem by keeping the writing strong, believable and, most importantly of all, finding fresh ways to present it. Well done Kring: poaching Verherden was a masterstroke. Now just get him to write the rest of the season. Ta. 8.6
316: 'Building 26'
Wr: Rob Fresco
Dr: Sergio Mimica-Gezzan
Synopsis: As the President sends a representative to investigate Nathan's activities, Sylar continues his quest to find his father. Hiro and Ando travel to India to fulfill the destiny shown by Matt's drawing, and Claire risks her father's wrath to protect a new friend.
Review: I've said it before and I'll say it again... you just can't please Heroes fans. If they're not rubbishing their favourite show for its apparent complexity, they're berating it for being slow moving and 'boring'. Now, it's certainly worth reminding ourselves of the age-old credo, 'you can't please all of the people all of the time', but it seems that the Heroes audience is never happy; or, at least, it would appear so if you spend your time idly lurking on the show's many interweb forums like a sad bastard, as I do. Ahem. The central issue, it seems, is that the fans want the programme to return to the heady days of season one when things were 'more original, characters were less convoluted and stories were more interesting'. The problem, of course, is that as soon as you ask a show to go backwards, it stops being original or interesting and instead it becomes a rehash of itself, trying desperately to counter the highly natural tide of story development. Things. Change. It's inevitable. You simply cannot expect any halfway deent show to remain in a self-contained bubble, especially not one WITH AN ONGOING PLOT. While a number of the changes inherent in Heroes haven't exactly been executed as well as they could have been, the very fact that the show is willing to progress should be something that we encourage, not lambast. The answer is not to return to the stylistics of the first season: it's to write change in a more convincing and enjoyable fashion. Just look at the other serialised shows on TV at the moment: Lost, Battlestar Galactica, Supernatural... none of these are much like their debut seasons but, crucially, they are far, far better for it. Development is the cornerstone of a successful, ongoing drama, not the enemy.
With this in mind, it is easy to see where 'Building 26' falls regrettably short. The episode tries its very best to restore some perceived 'loss' of season one characteristics by concentrating squarely on the kind of character facets that were implicit in the central players back when we were first introduced to them. So, Hiro and Ando make a completely pointless trip to Inia in an effort to regain Hiro's 'destiny' (his powers). Naturally, there's a moral lesson in this escapade: that you don't need powers to be a hero. Well, there's a revelation. This motif has been reiterated to death by the show since the get go. Hell, we even have a character who effectively acts as an encapsulation of this fact: Ando himself. Sure, it's mildly interesting to see the roles reversed in their relationship but on the whole, the narrative creaks with the rot of aged familiarity. There is no logic to the journey either: the pair travel to India simply because the painting indicates that they do, rather tha out of some need that the painting happens to reflect, and in so doing, the only ultimate outcome is the receipt of a message from REBEL about Matt... which, surely, they didn't need to travel abroad to receive. Hiro's epiphany, for me, just doesn't have the weight or relevance to justify devoting an entire B-storyline to a, quite frankly, ludicrously boring and cliched story about a woman who doesn't wish to enter into an arranged marriage. With every beat, the plot becomes still more predictable: as Ando convinces the bride to call off the wedding in two seconds, so it becomes clear that the groom will reinitiate it. Once Ando is kidnapped, Hiro's adoption of the role of intercessor is assured. And then, once the wedding begins, Hiro's interference is achingly obvious. The entire story can be read before it unfolds onscreen and that, my friends, certainly isn't the sign of a rivetingly written narrative.
That it were only this strand that falls victim to this problem. Sadly, it's rife elsewhere too, particularly in Claire/HRG's narrative. Fresco tries desperately to restore the conflict that made their story such a success in season one but, in so doing, makes the whole thing feel like a tired retread of things past. These two characters have grown significantly since we were first introduced to them: they've had so many reconciliatory father/daughter moments based on his desire to protect her and her assertion she she doesn't need protecting/what he is doing goes beyond the acceptable that I've lost count. And yet, here we fucking go again. It's the same plot beat we've had forced down our throats for far too long; during the early season three episodes, it seemed it was buried, or at least put to rest for a while. Now, we have the whole damn thing all over again, in glorious technicolor. Claire rebels against her father's wishes and brings a cute boy along for the ride (um, West, anyone?) It's just yawnsome. And the fact that she pulls the wool over his eyes for the majority of the episode is just plain unbelievable. How mnay times has she rebelled now? It's practically a pre-requisite. He'd have her surveilled or locked in her room or something as soon as she raised the slightest objection. But no, in the interests of servicing the plot (getting it to the point where HRG can be kidnapped), she gets away with it AGAIN. It's almost insulting to the viewer to expect us to swallow this sort of thing. Granted, it does give us the rather unexpected development of having HRG estranged from his wife but this doesn't make up for the boredom induced by the predictability of the remainder of the storyline.
There are additional problems elsewhere, too. While Nathan's story is at least a decent attempt at exploring the politics of his actions, it is fraught with story inconsistencies and illogical developments. First, why would Homeland send a non-believer to investigate the activities of Building 26? Particualrly when this decision will have been overseen by the President? The head of state is aware of Nathan's project; hell, HE ACTIVATED IT. He is, therefore, a believer in the existence of powers and any investigation would surely have been into the human rights aspect of the operation alone. Thus, someone privy to the reality would have been brought in, not a skeptic. The only reason for this is to serve the plot, so that conflict can be created out of an attempt to illustrate both sides of the political debate. Very lazy guys. And then there's Tracey's 'escape'. This is utterly, utterly ridiculous. Right, so she understands that someone loosened her shackles to facilitate her escape and that this was designed to win the doubting Thomas (WHO SHE KNOWS AND IS HER FRIEND) over to Nathan's side. You know, the woman who actually sympathises with her situation and may be able to help her out of it... as she actually tells her when she first enters her cell. So what does Tracey Strauss, sensible, inteligent, expert at conniving and political maneouvering, do? She murders the man who tries to recapture her, in power-centric fashion! It isn't even accidental! And she does it right in front of the woman WHO WAS GOING TO HELP HER AND DIDN'T BELIEVE SHE WAS A MONSTER! Eh?! This is completely and utterly unbelievable, especially given that Strauss seems to understand that she was being manipulated: so she just went along with it? Oh yeah, very sensible. Again, this just illustrates the lazy nature of the writing: Tracey's illogical move is simply a convenient method of getting the story to the point that Fresco needs: no governmental objection to Nathan's operation. It's a shame that this decision taints what is otherwise a fairly competent strand. There are some strong interchanges between characters (particularly Nathan and the Hunter) and the race/difference allegory is well woven. But,a gain, flawed writing gets in the way of this success.
The only aspect of the episode that escapes these problems is Sylar's story which remains somewhat refreshing thanks to the inclusion of the child. Once again, there's some good interplay between the two and the development of their somewhat warped surrogate father/son relationship is moving at a pleasing pace. Zachary Quinto is particularly good this week, returning Sylar to the manipulative, evil SOB of old while also interjecting enough compassionate difference to stress the changes he is going through. Crucially, they are nothing like the complete about turn that compromised his character in 'Villains': they are slight tweaks, not personality shifts. Sadly, however, this is not enough to save 'Building 26'. The remaining strands, while far from excerable, are fraught with problems, the most prominent of which is the failed execution of some perceived 'need' to return to the trappings of season one. This is the last thing Heroes needs right now: it should be moving forward, not traipsing back. If it doesn't regain its focus and momentum soon, I fear for the show's survival. Let's hope this was one is just a blip. 6.2
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