The musical Zeitgeist has a tendency to look down its nose at the nation’s youth. It’s a horrible sort of ageism, based on the archaic notion that just because they don’t have many years behind them, children cannot ‘appreciate’ music. Obviously, this is complete nonsense: it’s their passion that turns gigs such as tonight’s Blackout show into thrill rides of epic proportions.
While openers The Urgency offer a more refined live experience, mixing keyboard parts with choppy guitars in a sort of indie/emo crossover, the crowd still manages to get jumping. Hollywood Undead, meanwhile, are welcomed with a standing ovation, although it’s difficult to understand why. This is comic rap metal; the band members clearly don’t take themselves too seriously, jumping around onstage in Slipknot-esque masks, but the joke just isn’t funny. They resort to machismo and misogyny (‘Everywhere I Go’), profanity and homophobia (‘Undead’) in a cheap attempt to get laughs and it reeks of desperation. The masses may love them but Hollywood Undead are little more than a poor man’s Bloodhound Gang, and that really isn’t saying much.
All is forgiven, however, when Silverstein drag their carcasses onstage and proceed to tear through an all-too-brief but outlandishly shambolic set that takes in much from new album ‘A Shipwreck in the Sand’ and a few classics to boot. Shane stumbles around the stage, looking like he’s just been plucked out of the moshpit, while guitarists Neil and Josh flank him, casually indulging in the kind of extravagant riffery that sets the room alight. The pits are immense, the flow of crowdsurfers constant and the number of messed up, sweat-drenched faces uncountable. If there’s one area in which the band are lacking though, it’s their between-song banter, as Shane’s quip about Ice T falls very flat, the majority of the audience being too young to know who he is.
Thankfully, The Blackout have no such problems, as their cheap pops stick to the here and now. They praise the recently relegated Newcastle United, declare Gazza their favourite Geordie, and even when they launch into a pointless tirade about ‘shitty indie music’ and ‘those who waste their lives taking drugs’ (Pete Doherty, The Blackout are looking at you), the cheers are still loud enough to blow the roof off. The kids are in awe of these picture perfect Welshmen, and the band take every opportunity to exploit their devotion. The sex appeal is almost outlandish: singer Sean Smith pouts, preens and performs fellatio on his microphone, while his too-tight YS T-shirt rides up and exposes his midriff, making the girls, and the boys, wet with glee.
At times, the music threatens to play second fiddle to this excessive posturing, but they have enough tricks up their sleeves to carry it off. The performance itself is a bit of a clusterfuck, with singers bouncing off drum kits and microphones swinging around violently. The band infuse everything with over-the-top bluster, which works just as well for the slower songs (‘Top of the World’) as the angrier moments (‘Shut the Fuck Uppercut’). During ‘Save Our Selves’, Sean even gets everyone to sit on the floor and once the guitars kick in, jump in the air and “smash the room up.” He doesn’t really mean it, of course: it’s all part of the playful hyperbole of youth, the sort of thing that makes the adolescent experience so exciting.
This is music by the kids, for the kids, and if some of us have become too old to appreciate the genius of that, then maybe it’s about time we got the hell out of the moshpit. (7/10)
Sunday 31 May 2009
Tuesday 26 May 2009
Album review: Marilyn Manson: 'The High End of Low'
MARILYN MANSON: 'The High End of Low' (Interscope)
There's nothing more cringe worthy than aging rock stars trying desperately to cling to their youth; one swift look at John Lydon is proof enough of that. It's this universal truth that allows bands to progress, to develop their sound from something slightly juvenile to something more mature and refined. If Green Day had released 'Dookie Part 2' instead of '21st Century Breakdown', the results would've been laughable. Similarly, if the recently reformed Blink 182 make a record like 'Dude Ranch' for their comeback, full of songs about their cocks and what they like to do to animals, it will simply seem trite and embarrassing. People move on, bands move on, and so too should their music.
Brian Warner understands this fact. Having virtually ditched his self-proclaimed 'God of Fuck' moniker on 2007's 'Eat Me, Drink Me' in favour of a more personal approach, 'The High End of Low' finds him continuing the process, exploring the emotional element of his somewhat warped, yet highly intelligent, psyche. Where once he poured scorn outwards, mocking the hypocritical ideals of the American moral majority, now he turns his rage inwards, castigating his own uselessness ('I Have To Look Up Just To See Hell') and difficulties with the concept of love ('Devour', '15'). There's far less self-assurance here, barely a whiff of the arrogant swagger that characterised earlier successes 'Mechanical Animals' and 'Holy Wood', and credit to him for it; Warner is brave enough to try something new, to risk invoking accusations of 'selling out' from his shock-goth fans, and for that he should be commended.
It's a shame, then, that this approach fails so miserably. Any appeal that Manson's confessional bent may have had is lost in the hopeless self-indulgence of the album's musical palate. This is turgid prog rock of the most unrelenting order, with track after track plodding along at a pace that would embarrass a snail. The mid-section - from 'Black and White' to the God-awful 'Unkillable Monster' - is a horrifying slog, lacking even the remotest semblance of a spark. It's capped off by the diabolical dirgefest of 'I Want To Kill You Like...’, which, at nine minutes, feels like it's going to go on forever. There are some questionable forays into power balladry too; 'Running to the Edge of the World' is practically elevator music and 'Four Rusted Horses' would be akin to the kind of clichéd country twaddle that Kid Rock regularly churns out if it weren't for the fuzzbox distorting Warner's voice. These leave the listener in such a catatonic state that even the few glam-goth stompers fail to excite: 'Arma-Goddamn-Motherfucking-Geddon' just feels like 'White Wedding' gone wrong and 'We're From America', despite having an appealing groove, seems to reek of desperation.
When stripped bare, Marilyn Manson is the wrong kind of ugly. In opening himself up, Warner gives too much away, proving that maturity is not necessarily the ideal ingredient for a successful record. 'The High End of Low' is an exercise in self-indulgence from a man who once abhorred such things, which makes you long for the glory days of old, for the Manson who 'rubbed the human face in its own vomit and forced it to look in the mirror' (to paraphrase J.G. Ballard). Give us some sass man, challenge us, wind us all up. Don't give up the ghost and start staring at your navel. (3/10)
There's nothing more cringe worthy than aging rock stars trying desperately to cling to their youth; one swift look at John Lydon is proof enough of that. It's this universal truth that allows bands to progress, to develop their sound from something slightly juvenile to something more mature and refined. If Green Day had released 'Dookie Part 2' instead of '21st Century Breakdown', the results would've been laughable. Similarly, if the recently reformed Blink 182 make a record like 'Dude Ranch' for their comeback, full of songs about their cocks and what they like to do to animals, it will simply seem trite and embarrassing. People move on, bands move on, and so too should their music.
Brian Warner understands this fact. Having virtually ditched his self-proclaimed 'God of Fuck' moniker on 2007's 'Eat Me, Drink Me' in favour of a more personal approach, 'The High End of Low' finds him continuing the process, exploring the emotional element of his somewhat warped, yet highly intelligent, psyche. Where once he poured scorn outwards, mocking the hypocritical ideals of the American moral majority, now he turns his rage inwards, castigating his own uselessness ('I Have To Look Up Just To See Hell') and difficulties with the concept of love ('Devour', '15'). There's far less self-assurance here, barely a whiff of the arrogant swagger that characterised earlier successes 'Mechanical Animals' and 'Holy Wood', and credit to him for it; Warner is brave enough to try something new, to risk invoking accusations of 'selling out' from his shock-goth fans, and for that he should be commended.
It's a shame, then, that this approach fails so miserably. Any appeal that Manson's confessional bent may have had is lost in the hopeless self-indulgence of the album's musical palate. This is turgid prog rock of the most unrelenting order, with track after track plodding along at a pace that would embarrass a snail. The mid-section - from 'Black and White' to the God-awful 'Unkillable Monster' - is a horrifying slog, lacking even the remotest semblance of a spark. It's capped off by the diabolical dirgefest of 'I Want To Kill You Like...’, which, at nine minutes, feels like it's going to go on forever. There are some questionable forays into power balladry too; 'Running to the Edge of the World' is practically elevator music and 'Four Rusted Horses' would be akin to the kind of clichéd country twaddle that Kid Rock regularly churns out if it weren't for the fuzzbox distorting Warner's voice. These leave the listener in such a catatonic state that even the few glam-goth stompers fail to excite: 'Arma-Goddamn-Motherfucking-Geddon' just feels like 'White Wedding' gone wrong and 'We're From America', despite having an appealing groove, seems to reek of desperation.
When stripped bare, Marilyn Manson is the wrong kind of ugly. In opening himself up, Warner gives too much away, proving that maturity is not necessarily the ideal ingredient for a successful record. 'The High End of Low' is an exercise in self-indulgence from a man who once abhorred such things, which makes you long for the glory days of old, for the Manson who 'rubbed the human face in its own vomit and forced it to look in the mirror' (to paraphrase J.G. Ballard). Give us some sass man, challenge us, wind us all up. Don't give up the ghost and start staring at your navel. (3/10)
Sunday 24 May 2009
EP Review: Wall Street Riots: 'Playground Politics'
WALL STREET RIOTS: 'Playground Politics EP' (Division Promotions)
As their ever-burgeoning fanbase will tell you, there's something undeniably attractive about London's Wall Street Riots. Oh sure, they've got oodles of Smash Hits pin-up appeal, with their chiselled cheekbones and blemish-free skin, but thankfully, it cuts deeper than that. Début EP 'Playground Politics' reveals the true ace up their tight T-shirted sleeves: the ability to write unfathomably infectious songs. The four slices of sleazy, groove-led guitar pop on offer here are guaranteed to etch themselves onto your brain; hell, you'll probably find lead track 'Dr King' swaggering its way out of the sound system in your local alt club, turning the clientèle into a sweaty mass of hip-swinging, ass-shaking lunatics.
That isn’t their only strength though: the band have a likeable gang mentality too, a sort of juvenile, but fun, camaraderie that's reflected in their lyrics, from the revenge politics of 'Karma Kids' to 'Lords of Dogtown's scenester-baiting and championing of the underdog. It's very easy to feel part of their world, so welcoming is the music.
Only problem is, once you’re in the gang, it quickly becomes apparent that Wall Street Riots don’t really stand for much at all. And sure, not every band has to make use of the pedestal we erect for them to wax poetic about this issue or that, but it certainly looks like these guys want to have significance. Their name is incendiary enough, dripping with cultural relevance in these economically challenged times. And then we have their graffitied artwork, and the T-shirts that feature gangsters brandishing guns, that they even superimpose onto photographs of Barack Obama and Lindsay Lohan on their Myspace.
“Yes!”, you may think, “A cheeky bunch of upstarts with something to say, with enough balls to give the system a swift quick up its arse!” From their image, you’d be quite right; but as soon as the stories about friends who lie to keep their girlfriends kick in, you realise that they’d run a mile in the opposite direction as soon as the system fought back. They’ve got the swagger, but nothing else; Wall Street Riots are all talk and no bite, feeling a little too much like a case of style over substance. There’s nothing clever about appearing to be rebellious, but merely wanting to dance. That’s just disappointing. For all their music might initially have you tapping your feet, before long, you’ll be shrugging your shoulders. (5/10)
As their ever-burgeoning fanbase will tell you, there's something undeniably attractive about London's Wall Street Riots. Oh sure, they've got oodles of Smash Hits pin-up appeal, with their chiselled cheekbones and blemish-free skin, but thankfully, it cuts deeper than that. Début EP 'Playground Politics' reveals the true ace up their tight T-shirted sleeves: the ability to write unfathomably infectious songs. The four slices of sleazy, groove-led guitar pop on offer here are guaranteed to etch themselves onto your brain; hell, you'll probably find lead track 'Dr King' swaggering its way out of the sound system in your local alt club, turning the clientèle into a sweaty mass of hip-swinging, ass-shaking lunatics.
That isn’t their only strength though: the band have a likeable gang mentality too, a sort of juvenile, but fun, camaraderie that's reflected in their lyrics, from the revenge politics of 'Karma Kids' to 'Lords of Dogtown's scenester-baiting and championing of the underdog. It's very easy to feel part of their world, so welcoming is the music.
Only problem is, once you’re in the gang, it quickly becomes apparent that Wall Street Riots don’t really stand for much at all. And sure, not every band has to make use of the pedestal we erect for them to wax poetic about this issue or that, but it certainly looks like these guys want to have significance. Their name is incendiary enough, dripping with cultural relevance in these economically challenged times. And then we have their graffitied artwork, and the T-shirts that feature gangsters brandishing guns, that they even superimpose onto photographs of Barack Obama and Lindsay Lohan on their Myspace.
“Yes!”, you may think, “A cheeky bunch of upstarts with something to say, with enough balls to give the system a swift quick up its arse!” From their image, you’d be quite right; but as soon as the stories about friends who lie to keep their girlfriends kick in, you realise that they’d run a mile in the opposite direction as soon as the system fought back. They’ve got the swagger, but nothing else; Wall Street Riots are all talk and no bite, feeling a little too much like a case of style over substance. There’s nothing clever about appearing to be rebellious, but merely wanting to dance. That’s just disappointing. For all their music might initially have you tapping your feet, before long, you’ll be shrugging your shoulders. (5/10)
Tuesday 19 May 2009
Overview: Supernatural season four
Here it is, the statistical breakdown of my ratings of all the episodes of Supernatural's fourth season. Marvel.
401: 'Lazarus Rising': 9.6
402: 'Are You There, God? It's Me, Dean Winchester': 9.4
403: 'In the Beginning': 9.5
404: 'Metamorphosis': 9.0
405: 'Monster Movie': 8.5
406: 'Yellow Fever': 8.8
407: 'It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester': 9.4
408: 'Wishful Thinking': 9.1
409: 'I Know What You Did Last Summer': 9.3
410: 'Heaven and Hell': 9.4
411: 'Family Remains': 8.4
412: 'Criss Angel is a Douchebag': 8.8
413: 'After School Special': 9.0
414: 'Sex and Violence': 9.1
415: 'Death Takes a Holiday': 9.4
416: 'On the Head of a Pin': 9.7
417: 'It's A Terrible Life': 9.0
418: 'The Monster at the End of this Book': 9.6
419: 'Jump the Shark': 8.8
420: 'The Rapture': 8.8
421: 'When the Levee Breaks': 9.2
422: 'Lucifer Rising': 9.5
Season average: 9.2
This makes Supernatural the highest scoring series of TV that I've reviewed in the 2008/9 season, beating Lost by .1 of a point. Only six episodes out of the total 22 scored less than a 9.
Top 5 episodes
1. 416: 'On the Head of a Pin' (9.7)
2. 401: 'Lazarus Rising' (9.6)
3. 418: 'The Monster at the End of this Book' (9.6)
4. 422: 'Lucifer Rising' (9.5)
5. 403: 'In the Beginning' (9.5)
Supernatural's highest scoring episode of the year, 'On the Head of a Pin', is also the highest rating I've given to anything in the 2008/9 season.
Worst episode
411: 'Family Remains' (8.4)
-----
And with that, my regular television reviews are over for another season. It's been a lot of hard work - my keyboard's taken a hell of a battering and when I've seen fit to actually write these things by hand (usually while sipping cokes in coffee shops), I've frequently indented my thumb and index finger for days on end - but I've had a truckload of fun doing 'em. The reviews will return in September when Desperate Housewives, Supernatural, Fringe and Heroes begin again; although who knows, I might see fit to start writing about some other gem that I've discovered in the meantime. I keep meaning to have a go at True Blood and, having watched almost all of Dollhouse's first season, I could feel the itch to start ranting and raving about that... especially now that it's been renewed for a second year. So anyway, stay tuned for the usual inanity and the occasional foray back to the goggle box. Oh, and at least we're all safe from The Sarah Connor Chronicles: it's been cancelled! Huzzah!
401: 'Lazarus Rising': 9.6
402: 'Are You There, God? It's Me, Dean Winchester': 9.4
403: 'In the Beginning': 9.5
404: 'Metamorphosis': 9.0
405: 'Monster Movie': 8.5
406: 'Yellow Fever': 8.8
407: 'It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester': 9.4
408: 'Wishful Thinking': 9.1
409: 'I Know What You Did Last Summer': 9.3
410: 'Heaven and Hell': 9.4
411: 'Family Remains': 8.4
412: 'Criss Angel is a Douchebag': 8.8
413: 'After School Special': 9.0
414: 'Sex and Violence': 9.1
415: 'Death Takes a Holiday': 9.4
416: 'On the Head of a Pin': 9.7
417: 'It's A Terrible Life': 9.0
418: 'The Monster at the End of this Book': 9.6
419: 'Jump the Shark': 8.8
420: 'The Rapture': 8.8
421: 'When the Levee Breaks': 9.2
422: 'Lucifer Rising': 9.5
Season average: 9.2
This makes Supernatural the highest scoring series of TV that I've reviewed in the 2008/9 season, beating Lost by .1 of a point. Only six episodes out of the total 22 scored less than a 9.
Top 5 episodes
1. 416: 'On the Head of a Pin' (9.7)
2. 401: 'Lazarus Rising' (9.6)
3. 418: 'The Monster at the End of this Book' (9.6)
4. 422: 'Lucifer Rising' (9.5)
5. 403: 'In the Beginning' (9.5)
Supernatural's highest scoring episode of the year, 'On the Head of a Pin', is also the highest rating I've given to anything in the 2008/9 season.
Worst episode
411: 'Family Remains' (8.4)
-----
And with that, my regular television reviews are over for another season. It's been a lot of hard work - my keyboard's taken a hell of a battering and when I've seen fit to actually write these things by hand (usually while sipping cokes in coffee shops), I've frequently indented my thumb and index finger for days on end - but I've had a truckload of fun doing 'em. The reviews will return in September when Desperate Housewives, Supernatural, Fringe and Heroes begin again; although who knows, I might see fit to start writing about some other gem that I've discovered in the meantime. I keep meaning to have a go at True Blood and, having watched almost all of Dollhouse's first season, I could feel the itch to start ranting and raving about that... especially now that it's been renewed for a second year. So anyway, stay tuned for the usual inanity and the occasional foray back to the goggle box. Oh, and at least we're all safe from The Sarah Connor Chronicles: it's been cancelled! Huzzah!
Overview: Lost season five
Here it is, the statistical breakdown of my ratings of all the episodes of Lost's fifth season. Marvel.
501: 'Because You Left': 9.5
502: 'The Lie': 9.0
503: 'Jughead': 9.3
504: 'The Little Prince': 8.8
505: 'This Place Is Death': 9.1
506: '316': 9.2
507: 'The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham': 9.3
508: 'LeFleur': 9.4
509: 'Namaste': 9.1
510: 'He's Our You': 8.3
511: 'Whatever Happened, Happened': 8.6
512: 'Dead Is Dead': 9.5
513: 'Some Like It Hoth': 8.0
514: 'The Variable': 9.4
515: 'Follow The Leader': 9.0
516: 'The Incident, part one': 9.4
517: 'The Incident, part two': 9.6
Season average: 9.1
Top 5 episodes
1. 'The Incident, part two' (9.6)
2. 'Dead Is Dead' (9.5)
3. 'Because You Left' (9.5)
4. 'LeFleur' (9.4)
5. 'The Variable' (9.4)
It's worth noting that only four episodes out of the total seventeen scored less than a 9.
Worst episode
513: 'Some Like It Hoth' (8.0)
501: 'Because You Left': 9.5
502: 'The Lie': 9.0
503: 'Jughead': 9.3
504: 'The Little Prince': 8.8
505: 'This Place Is Death': 9.1
506: '316': 9.2
507: 'The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham': 9.3
508: 'LeFleur': 9.4
509: 'Namaste': 9.1
510: 'He's Our You': 8.3
511: 'Whatever Happened, Happened': 8.6
512: 'Dead Is Dead': 9.5
513: 'Some Like It Hoth': 8.0
514: 'The Variable': 9.4
515: 'Follow The Leader': 9.0
516: 'The Incident, part one': 9.4
517: 'The Incident, part two': 9.6
Season average: 9.1
Top 5 episodes
1. 'The Incident, part two' (9.6)
2. 'Dead Is Dead' (9.5)
3. 'Because You Left' (9.5)
4. 'LeFleur' (9.4)
5. 'The Variable' (9.4)
It's worth noting that only four episodes out of the total seventeen scored less than a 9.
Worst episode
513: 'Some Like It Hoth' (8.0)
Overview: Fringe season one
Here it is, the statistical breakdown of my ratings of all the episodes of Fringe's début season. Marvel.
101: 'Pilot': 8.6
102: 'The Same Old Story': 8.3
103: 'The Ghost Network': 8.5
104: 'The Arrival': 9.0
105: 'Power Hungry': 8.7
106: 'The Cure': 8.4
107: 'In Which We Meet Mr. Jones': 8.7
108: 'The Equation': 9.0
109: 'The Dreamscape': 8.2
110: 'Safe': 9.2
111: 'Bound': 7.9
112: 'The No-Brainer': 7.2
113: 'The Transformation': 8.7
114: 'Ability': 9.2
115: 'Inner Child': 8.5
116: 'Unleashed': 7.1
117: 'Bad Dreams': 9.2
118: 'Midnight': 7.8
119: 'The Road Not Taken': 8.5
120: 'There's More Than One of Everything': 8.9
Season average: 8.5
Top 5 episodes
1. 114: 'Ability' (9.2)
2. 117: 'Bad Dreams' (9.2)
3. 110: 'Safe' (9.2)
4. 104: 'The Arrival' (9.0)
5. 108: 'The Equation' (9.0)
Worst episode
116: 'Unleashed' (7.1)
101: 'Pilot': 8.6
102: 'The Same Old Story': 8.3
103: 'The Ghost Network': 8.5
104: 'The Arrival': 9.0
105: 'Power Hungry': 8.7
106: 'The Cure': 8.4
107: 'In Which We Meet Mr. Jones': 8.7
108: 'The Equation': 9.0
109: 'The Dreamscape': 8.2
110: 'Safe': 9.2
111: 'Bound': 7.9
112: 'The No-Brainer': 7.2
113: 'The Transformation': 8.7
114: 'Ability': 9.2
115: 'Inner Child': 8.5
116: 'Unleashed': 7.1
117: 'Bad Dreams': 9.2
118: 'Midnight': 7.8
119: 'The Road Not Taken': 8.5
120: 'There's More Than One of Everything': 8.9
Season average: 8.5
Top 5 episodes
1. 114: 'Ability' (9.2)
2. 117: 'Bad Dreams' (9.2)
3. 110: 'Safe' (9.2)
4. 104: 'The Arrival' (9.0)
5. 108: 'The Equation' (9.0)
Worst episode
116: 'Unleashed' (7.1)
Overview: Prison Break season four
Here it is, the statistical breakdown of my ratings of all the episodes of Prison Break's fourth and final season. Marvel.
401: 'Scylla': 7.4
402: 'Breaking and Entering': 8.1
403: 'Shut Down': 8.8
404: 'Eagles and Angels': 8.6
405: 'Safe and Sound': 8.7
406: 'Blow Out': 8.5
407: 'Five the Hard Way': 7.5
408: 'The Price': 9.1
409: 'Greatness Achieved': 9.4
410: 'The Legend': 8.5
411: 'Quiet Riot': 9.3
412: 'Selfless': 7.4
413: 'Deal or no Deal': 6.2
414: 'Just Business': 7.8
415: 'Going Under': 8.8
416: 'The Sunshine State': 7.1
417: 'The Mother Lode': 5.5
418: 'Vs': 5.9
419: 'S.O.B.': 5.9
420: Cowboys and Indians': 7.0
421: 'Rate of Exchange': 7.1
422: 'Killing Your Number': 4.2
Season average: 7.6
Top 5 episodes
1. 409: 'Greatness Achieved' (9.4)
2. 411: 'Quiet Riot' (9.3)
3. 408: 'The Price' (9.1)
4. 403: 'Shut Down' (8.8)
5. 415: 'Going Under' (8.8)
Worst episode
422: 'Killing Your Number' (4.2)
401: 'Scylla': 7.4
402: 'Breaking and Entering': 8.1
403: 'Shut Down': 8.8
404: 'Eagles and Angels': 8.6
405: 'Safe and Sound': 8.7
406: 'Blow Out': 8.5
407: 'Five the Hard Way': 7.5
408: 'The Price': 9.1
409: 'Greatness Achieved': 9.4
410: 'The Legend': 8.5
411: 'Quiet Riot': 9.3
412: 'Selfless': 7.4
413: 'Deal or no Deal': 6.2
414: 'Just Business': 7.8
415: 'Going Under': 8.8
416: 'The Sunshine State': 7.1
417: 'The Mother Lode': 5.5
418: 'Vs': 5.9
419: 'S.O.B.': 5.9
420: Cowboys and Indians': 7.0
421: 'Rate of Exchange': 7.1
422: 'Killing Your Number': 4.2
Season average: 7.6
Top 5 episodes
1. 409: 'Greatness Achieved' (9.4)
2. 411: 'Quiet Riot' (9.3)
3. 408: 'The Price' (9.1)
4. 403: 'Shut Down' (8.8)
5. 415: 'Going Under' (8.8)
Worst episode
422: 'Killing Your Number' (4.2)
Overview: Desperate Housewives season five
Here it is, the statistical breakdown of my ratings of all the episodes of the fifth season of Desperate Housewives. Marvel.
501: 'You're Gonna Love Tomorrow': 6.6
502: 'We're So Happy, You're So Happy': 6.9
503: 'Kids Ain't Like Everybody Else': 8.5
504: 'Back in Business': 8.2
505: 'Mirror Mirror': 9.0
506: 'There's Always A Woman': 8.6
507: 'What More Do I Need?': 8.2
508: 'City on Fire': 8.7
509: 'Me and my Town': 8.5
510: 'A Vision's Just A Vision': 7.7
511: 'Home Is The Place': 8.5
512: 'Connect! Connect!': 8.2
513: 'The Best Thing That Ever Could've Happened': 7.7
514: 'Mama Spent Money When She Had None': 8.0
515: 'In a World Where the Kings are Employers': 6.8
516: 'Crime Doesn't Pay': 7.4
517: 'The Story of Lucy and Jessie': 8.3
518: 'A Spark. To Pierce the Dark': 7.9
519: 'Look Into Their Eyes and You See What They Know': 8.6
520: 'Rose's Turn': 8.4
521: 'Bargaining': 5.7
522: 'Marry Me A Little': 5.9
523: 'Everybody Says Don't': 6.9
524: 'If It's Only In Your Head': 2.9
Season average: 7.6
Top 5 episodes
1. 505: 'Mirror, Mirror' (9.0)
2. 508: 'City on Fire' (8.7)
3. 506: 'There's Always A Woman' (8.6)
4. 519: 'Look Into Their Eyes and You See What They Know' (8.6)
5. 503: 'Kids Ain't Like Everybody Else' (8.5)
Worst episode
524: 'If It's Only In Your Head' (2.9)
501: 'You're Gonna Love Tomorrow': 6.6
502: 'We're So Happy, You're So Happy': 6.9
503: 'Kids Ain't Like Everybody Else': 8.5
504: 'Back in Business': 8.2
505: 'Mirror Mirror': 9.0
506: 'There's Always A Woman': 8.6
507: 'What More Do I Need?': 8.2
508: 'City on Fire': 8.7
509: 'Me and my Town': 8.5
510: 'A Vision's Just A Vision': 7.7
511: 'Home Is The Place': 8.5
512: 'Connect! Connect!': 8.2
513: 'The Best Thing That Ever Could've Happened': 7.7
514: 'Mama Spent Money When She Had None': 8.0
515: 'In a World Where the Kings are Employers': 6.8
516: 'Crime Doesn't Pay': 7.4
517: 'The Story of Lucy and Jessie': 8.3
518: 'A Spark. To Pierce the Dark': 7.9
519: 'Look Into Their Eyes and You See What They Know': 8.6
520: 'Rose's Turn': 8.4
521: 'Bargaining': 5.7
522: 'Marry Me A Little': 5.9
523: 'Everybody Says Don't': 6.9
524: 'If It's Only In Your Head': 2.9
Season average: 7.6
Top 5 episodes
1. 505: 'Mirror, Mirror' (9.0)
2. 508: 'City on Fire' (8.7)
3. 506: 'There's Always A Woman' (8.6)
4. 519: 'Look Into Their Eyes and You See What They Know' (8.6)
5. 503: 'Kids Ain't Like Everybody Else' (8.5)
Worst episode
524: 'If It's Only In Your Head' (2.9)
Overview: 24 season seven
Here it is, the statistical breakdown of my ratings of all the episodes of 24's seventh season. Marvel.
701: '8am - 9am': 9.0
702: '9am - 10am': 8.8
703: '10am - 11am': 9.1
704: '11am - 12pm': 8.6
705: '12pm - 1pm': 8.5
706: '1pm - 2pm': 7.0
707: '2pm - 3pm': 8.6
708: '3pm - 4pm': 8.7
709: '4pm - 5pm': 8.7
710: '5pm - 6pm': 7.4
711: '6pm - 7pm': 8.5
712: '7pm - 8pm': 9.0
713: '8pm - 9pm': 7.3
714: '9pm - 10pm': 8.0
715: '10pm - 11pm': 7.6
716: '11pm - 12am': 7.5
717: '12am - 1am': 8.5
718: '1am - 2am': 8.8
719: '2am - 3am': 9.2
720: '3am - 4am': 9.0
721: '4am - 5am': 8.0
722: '5am - 6am': 3.7
723: '6am - 7am': 8.3
724: '7am - 8am': 8.8
Season average: 8.2
Top 5 episodes
1. 719: '2am - 3am' (9.2) - immediately after Tony's 'turn'
2. 703: '10am - 11am' (9.1) - Tony is interrogated by Jack at FBI HQ
3. 712: '7pm - 8am' (9.0) - the White House is taken by Juma's forces
4. 720: '3am - 4am' (9.0) - the 'shady conspiracy' is elaborated upon
5. 701: '8am - 9am' (9.0) - the tumultuous start to Jack Bauer's day
Worst episode: 722: '5am - 6am' (3.7) - Kim is back. And she's brought her old friend cliche with her.
701: '8am - 9am': 9.0
702: '9am - 10am': 8.8
703: '10am - 11am': 9.1
704: '11am - 12pm': 8.6
705: '12pm - 1pm': 8.5
706: '1pm - 2pm': 7.0
707: '2pm - 3pm': 8.6
708: '3pm - 4pm': 8.7
709: '4pm - 5pm': 8.7
710: '5pm - 6pm': 7.4
711: '6pm - 7pm': 8.5
712: '7pm - 8pm': 9.0
713: '8pm - 9pm': 7.3
714: '9pm - 10pm': 8.0
715: '10pm - 11pm': 7.6
716: '11pm - 12am': 7.5
717: '12am - 1am': 8.5
718: '1am - 2am': 8.8
719: '2am - 3am': 9.2
720: '3am - 4am': 9.0
721: '4am - 5am': 8.0
722: '5am - 6am': 3.7
723: '6am - 7am': 8.3
724: '7am - 8am': 8.8
Season average: 8.2
Top 5 episodes
1. 719: '2am - 3am' (9.2) - immediately after Tony's 'turn'
2. 703: '10am - 11am' (9.1) - Tony is interrogated by Jack at FBI HQ
3. 712: '7pm - 8am' (9.0) - the White House is taken by Juma's forces
4. 720: '3am - 4am' (9.0) - the 'shady conspiracy' is elaborated upon
5. 701: '8am - 9am' (9.0) - the tumultuous start to Jack Bauer's day
Worst episode: 722: '5am - 6am' (3.7) - Kim is back. And she's brought her old friend cliche with her.
Review: 24 season seven finale (#723: '6am - 7am'/#724: '7am - 8am')
723: '6am - 7am'
Wr: David Fury & Alex Gansa
Dr: Jon Cassar
Synopsis: After a gruelling 22 hours that saw the return of former partner Tony Almeida, terrorists besieging the Capitol and several heroic sacrifices, Jack reaches an emotional turning point and the end is in sight as another day of hell draws to a close.
Review: Well, thank God the writing staff picked themselves up, dusted themselves down and put their collective heads together for this one; after the diabolical disappointment that was last week's '5am - 6am', 24 looked set to deliver its most worthlessly insipid finale ever, full of cougar-esque Kim chases and ludicrous FBI vs. CTU bickering. That this is not the case is a testament to David Fury and Alex Gansa's considerable writing talents, especially when one considers that a large number of the plot developments that occur in '6am - 7am' have, at their core, a rather undesirable element. A potent example of this is the game of bait and switch between Olivia and Ethan, with Aaron thrown in the mix for good measure. The story is centred on the laughable ball of convenience that is the 'digital recording device', something that, bizarrely, the new Acting Chief of Staff wasn't made aware of when she was inaugurated into the position. Furthermore, the notion that Ethan failed to turn the thing off when he resigned his commission about ten hours ago is rather preposterous and a thoroughly transparent way of allowing the writers to get to their designed end point. However, these gripes are glossed over somewhat by a combination of sublime dialogue and superlative acting. Everyone involved in the ever-unfolding intrigue is absolutely at the top of their game, including the guys that play Martin and Tim, regardless of how small a part they have to play. Glenn Morshower is superb as always as Agent Pierce, successfully selling the gravity of the situation with every subtle nuance in his conversation with Ethan.
And check out the horror that consumes Sprague Grayden as she uncovers the recording device (I rolled my eyes a little at Ethan having left it open, what a cliche!) and how she holds up against an actor of Bob Gunton's calibre when she 'interrogates' Ethan while he's in custody. There are some delightfully subtle lines here, from Olivia's joy at the fact that he still stands for her after so many years, which lends significant weight and believability to their relationship, to their respective exploitation of legalise and penchant for deceit. When Olivia remarks that the President ordered Kanin's detention, it's a wonderfully eerie moment, providing a quick kick to the viewer's stomach and demonstrating just how far off the rails her character has gone. And more impressively, the fact that Ethan foils Olivia, giving her a blank disc, would ordinarily seem rather contrived; however, here, the problem is offset by our knowledge of the characters. From all that we have seen of their troubled relationship over the course of the season, it is entirely logical that Kanin wouldn't trust Taylor, that he would have a back-up plan in case things went wrong; his line, "one has to be prepared when dealing with Olivia" says it all and allows for events to seem less forced.
Over at Dial-an-Operating-Theatre, meanwhile, things don't look too good for poor, poor Jack Bauer. Last week, I lamented the culmination of the bioterrorist threat, believing that the writers dropped the ball on the main thrust of the narrative, tying things up too soon and apparently directing the story in a highly lamentable direction: the retrieval of Kim bloody Bauer. Thankfully, things don't quite turn out that way; instead, Tony has yet another plan, an "even bigger picture" (to paraphrase the guy), that he wishes to use to gain himself a position in the shady group. There is some sort of logic in his dastardly scheme to harvest Jack's organs - oh my God, 24's turning into Saw, or something - even if one suspects that the science behind the whole scheme of 'reconstituting the virus' is probably a little hokey. But then, what do I know? Biology (or chemistry, whatever the hell you'd call this) was never was my strong point. Anyway, more importantly, this gives the hour an undercurrent of foreboding, a slowly-building wave of horror that never reaches a dramatic apex but just bubbles under, chilling rather than scaring you witless. Interestingly, this seems to work just as well, if not better, than any intense action-fest or race against time because it's unusual for the show, and therefore unpredictable. Without a threat to stop or lives to save, the emphasis of the story shifts to the identities of the 'shady group' and the interplay between characters which, because they are so well delineated, works extremely well.
Every one of Almeida's scenes with Cara, for example, seem loaded with intrigue; they unbalance the viewer as we don't have the full picture. Motives aren't clearly drawn, histories not well established. The same can be said of Cara's phone conversation with good ol' Will Patton at episode's end, which is made all the more menacing by our lack of information about the character. There's an absolutely wonderful use of split screen here, as a shot of Tony is placed inbetween the phone call, visually symbolising the state of play between the three. Jon Cassar actually exploits this device to the max throughout the episode, using it to ramp up the tension when Jack orchestrates Tony's escape by continually increasing the number of shots, peppering the screen with different viewpoints that send your eyes darting about all over the shop. And then, just for kicks, he does it again in the closing moments, allowing the action to run on in all the 'boxes' as they bleed into one another, which in turn gives the plot a greater feeling of gravitas.
'6am - 7am' is not without its more regrettable moments, however, and the majority of these centre on, you guessed it, Kimberly 'I want to be my daddy!' Bauer. Elisha Cuthbert does manage to do a good job with some of the material she is given - particularly in the thoroughly convincing 'game face' that she puts on for her captors - but this doesn't disguise the myriad problems that haunt her story. The ridiculous 'evil computer spycam' plot is foiled by the simple act of someone needing to sit down in a packed airport which, you would think, the highly intelligent 'terrorists' might have thought of. In fact, you'd imagine they wouldn't do something as ridiculous as train a camera on an individual and have the shot showing on the full screen of their computer for the whole world to see but what the hey, it's a minute detail right, we should forgive it. Well, it would easier to if there weren't so many other facepalm moments. The shoot out sequence in the airport is very well choreographed, with bullets flying everywhere, panicked citizens running for their lives and shaky, hand held camera movements creating a prominent sense of unease and hysteria. However, exactly what is gained by two poorly armed people trying to take out an entire airport full of security? In fact, scratch that, one man with one gun, since his 'wife' is too busy trying to knife their target in the back. Really, could they not have found a more subtle way of offing Kim than by effectively telling everyone in the building what they're doing? Sure, it appears that the police are on their way to intercept them but why not just quickly stab Kim and then scarper? Sigh.
The silliness doesn't stop there though, oh no. The writers are clearly trying to draw parallels between father and daughter, turning Kim into a sort of Jack-lite. Unfortunately, it doesn't really work. She stabs the crazy coffee-drinking female with a pen and it practically incapacitates her! Riiiight. Then, she's on the phone to Renee, dispensing with all pleasantries and shouting "security's down!", demanding to know "where are the airport police?" and finally, capping it all off with a very poor "dammit!" that doesn't even come close to any of Sutherland's utterances of the word. In fact, it's practically an insult to his genius to even have her consider stealing his catchphrase. Now, sure, we get that Kim worked at CTU once so she has some sort of experience with all of this. And yeah, it's far preferable to see her acting with a modicum of intelligence than simply running around being chased by God knows what. However, the transformation is just too great. When she sat at her computer screen in season three, occasionally looking after babies and getting into bitch fights with Chloe, she was hardly the most level-headed or experienced of agents. I'd say, in terms of her combat-readiness, she was at about the same level as Janis Gold is right now. Kim was a 'systems analyst' for crying out loud, not a field operative! (Her one excursion into the field was hardly complex, was it? She just had to don a disguise!) And in the six years that it's been since she was last recruited by the government, where has she managed to develop the experience needed to be so on the ball and forward-thinking in a crisis situation? I mean Christ, it gets to the point where she risks her life to retrieve a computer! Not only does she follow the gun-toting bad guy instead of doing the sensible, ordinary thing and letting the authorities do their jobs (she has no weapon for crying out loud!), but once he's practically killed himself, she climbs into a blazing car just to get a piece of evidence that might help in the retrieval of Tony/her dad. If the thing weren't on fire, maybe I'd accept it, but the risk is far too great. Oh and furthermore, technology develops rather substantially in six years so I find it hard to believe that the kind of digital camera that is attached to the laptop would fit the specification for the mysterious 'D-11 router' that Kim is so knowledgeable about. Whatever expertise she had is unquestionably long outdated now; and in any case, back tracing the source with a router? Technobabble, much?
There are a couple of other lamentable plot decisions too - the fact that Jack manages to overpower everyone after having been paralysed, as well as suffering the effects of the pathogen, is a little ridiculous, even if his throat-slitting is uber cool, and why exactly are two of the doctors wearing masks but the third one isn't? Huh? Still, these are minor gripes that don't really distract from the overall quality of the episode. On the whole, '6am - 7am' is a considerably entertaining piece, loaded with interesting developments, some excellent character scenes, particularly between Olivia, Ethan and Aaron, and a considerable amount of tension. While the final hours lack a central dramatic event, this actually proves to be beneficial, shifting the emphasis away from explosions and races against time and more towards mystery and intrigue. There are elements of the plot that are questionably handled, most notably Kim's transformation into a mini version of her daddy, but these don't hamper the episode's quality too much. Good stuff then, building into the final hour with considerable finesse. 8.3
724: '7am - 8am'
Teleplay: Howard Gordon
Story: Manny Coto & Brannon Braga
Dr: Jon Cassar
Synopsis: After a gruelling 22 hours that saw the return of former partner Tony Almeida, terrorists besieging the Capitol and several heroic sacrifices, Jack reaches an emotional turning point and the end is in sight as another day of hell draws to a close
Review: Well, there's no denying it: 24 really ups its game with this heart stopper of a finale but its strength lies not so much in the action, which is over within the first twenty minutes, but in the character interplay, in the way in which the dialogue cuts to the heart of the emotional conflicts that have permeated the season. Gordon, Braga and Coto's script features a sleu of outstanding individual scenes that are not only thoroughly believable, but also sell the humanity of the characters whose tumultuous lives we love to see roller-coaster all over Washington DC week in, week out. To begin, we have the duplicitous, tortured Tony Almeida whose motivation is finally exposed for all the world to see. Granted, as soon as he unleashes yet another "ah hah! But that is not my real plan!", it sets the eyes a-rolling, but the show cleverly avoids making its viewers feel like they are being jerked around by grounding the events in the kind of emotion that we can really invest in. It isn't too great a stretch to accept that he is doing this for Michelle, for all that he lost so cruelly two seasons ago, and Bernard sells it so well with every clearly pained nuance of his performance that the smattering of inconsistencies can be overlooked. While the notion that Alan Wilson was responsible for 'the Logan affair' is a clever move, rewarding loyal viewers with a nod to continuity, it still rankles a little that Almeida was willing to murder Larry Moss and, more importantly, to potentially infect thousands of civilians with a lethal pathogen. However, all of this is pushed to the furthest reaches of the mind as soon as he and Jack trade psychoanalytic barbs ("you're not honouring Michelle's life, you're revelling in her death" is perhaps my favourite); Sutherland and Bernard are just so fantastic, so emotionally intense, that it negates any doubts that we may have. The tension in the scene where Almeida wires Bauer with C4 threatens to cut through your screen, it's so sharp, and Jon Cassar does a wonderful job of amplifying it with some erratic, shadowy direction. And at the end of the day, there's something fairly logical about the idea of Tony 'playing both sides' anyway, of him being without a moral compass after all that he's been through. He doesn't care who he takes down with him, as long as he gets to achieve his end game and while we may not like it, after years of forming a close bond with the character, we can at least understand and accept it. It's arguably far more realistic than a cut and dry 'good vs. evil' motif, where everyone falls in line with established norms. There's far, far more humanity in the flawed, in hate, in revenge. When he screams, "what did you do? You ran away!" at Jack once Alan Wilson is taken into custody, it really resonates with the viewer because we can see his point. Those around Bauer die and the perpetrators rarely ever pay for their crimes; isn't it about time someone changed all that? It's rivetingly complex stuff, denying us the ability to box these characters off as 'good' or 'bad', and three-dimensionalising them instead.
While we're on the subject of Wilson, how incredible is Will Patton, huh? With the utmost brevity, he manages to sell the threat of a character we have barely had the chance to explore, giving him the kind of proverbial weight as a villain that is genuinely frightening. For the duration of his performance - from his Western-style confrontation with Tony outside the warehouse, shot using wide angles to give everything more gravitas, to his stint in FBI custody - he remains absolutely steadfast, barely moving an inch and staring, nay glaring, into the distance. His eyes are terrifyingly piercing, rarely allowed to blink, and the way in which he shows absolutely no emotion, regardless of what is being said to him, is incredibly unnerving. It doesn't matter what is being said - Tony offering his services, Renee threatening him with the death penalty - he remains unmoved, steady in his belief that he is effectively untouchable. The only extravagance he is afforded is a penchant for muttering 'huh' under his breath which, given that the term conveys curiosity, is only the more disquieting. This is the kind of villain that truly rewards the viewer, not a bumbling, psychotically deranged lunatic like Jonas Hodges, or an OTT gun blazer like General Juma. No, it's the quiet ones that are the most believable, which obviously bodes well for the eighth season given that, from the closing moments, it looks like he might just show up again. This is another of the episode's many strong points; for the first time in many years, it seems that the central plot is not over at year's end. The 'shadowy conspiracy' is not exposed and the inclusion of Renee's 'to torture or not to torture? That is the question!' moment, while a little extraneous, does seem to suggest that we will carry on exploring this angle next year. Mind, we said the same about President Palmer being infected with a a biological agent at the end of season two and look where that got us...
Speaking of Presidents, the Olivia Taylor storyline comes to a close and it's a somewhat surprising highlight. While Glenn Morshower is uncharacteristically hammy when he and Ethan confront the Chief of Staff, pulling somewhat ludicrous 'disgusted' faces and over-emphasising words, everyone else knocks one right out of the park. Grayden, Jones and Feore are absolutely excellent in Olivia's confessional scene, believably selling every painful shred of emotion that passes between the characters. The dialogue is perfect too, from Alison's very palpable struggle between her head and her heart, between what she should do as President of the United States and what she wants to do as a mother, to Henry's thoroughly human pleas for his wife to think about what this will do to their family. And as if all this wasn't enough to sell you on the intensity
of the situation, Sean Callery's music magnifies it tenfold, using mysterious whistling noises, long-playing discordant notes and the intermittent sound of a heartbeat that increases in volume but never in pace. It really lifts the scene, giving it a gravity that would undoubtedly be missing without it. You may be tempted to pour scorn on the notion that the music has any real impact, as I have heard from countless sources, but I dare you to try watching the programme without it. It's as much a character as any of the actual people in the show; if you can get your hands on an unedited version of the programme, on the dailies say, you'll find it a completely different and far less rewarding experience than when Callery works his magic all over it.
'7am - 8am' contains much else that's enjoyable too. Both central action sequences are exceptionally choreographed: Jack and Tony's mini-battle in the, um, garage (?) is suitably intense and thankfully brief, containing a true punch-the-air moment when Bauer's plan doesn't come to fruition. It's become all too easy over the years for Jack to simply achieve everything that he sets out to because, well, 'he's Jack Bauer, he's superhuman', so much so that it's turned into a bit of an irritating cliche, but this reverses the trend, humanising the character again and making the situation far more realistic, even if it is implied that it's all because he's dying of Deadly Pathogen Disease. The moment where he starts to spasm while trying to get under the shutter is a very nice touch, lending credence to his struggle. Mind, we could have done without Tony's magical forklift commandeering and the rather conveniently placed sticks of dynamite (well of course there'd be some lying around, silly! Groan!), but these are minor quibbles. The hour's major battle, meanwhile, the shoot out at the Warehouse Coral, is outstanding. This is Jon Cassar's last stab at depicting all out chaos (he's not returning for the eighth season, sadly) and, as per, he delivers above and beyond the call of duty. Every frame of the sequence is loaded with activity as bullets ricochet everywhere, soldiers, both FBI and 'government conspiracy', run around in complete disarray, collapsing onto one another or firing at the FBI. And then there's the assault from the helicopter which is just magnificent, really believably handled.
It's a shame that the plot itself occasionally threatens to undermine the strength of the direction; the initial appearance of Renee and co. is head-scratchingly sudden, seeming a little out of place. At the beginning of the episode, Kim laments that they haven't been able to track Almeida's location through the combination of the rather spurious 'D11 router' and the laptop's camera, even though it's only been, like, five minutes since she retrieved the damn thing from the burning wreckage of a car. Then, ten minutes later, they've got the exact location and have managed to get there just in the nick of time to prevent Jack from blowing to smithereens? Um, how is that exactly? The writers don't even give us a throwaway line of dialogue between Chloe and Janis that would indicate that they've 'cracked the code' or some such gumf. Oh, and Renee, shock of shocks, happens to recognise the exact trigger mechanism that Jack's wired with and so is able to disarm the bomb in about ten seconds! This is a little sloppy, feeling like a rushed solution to the narrative being backed into a corner, rather than an organic method of nullifying the problem. Arguably, an opportunity for still more dramatic tension is greatly missed here, since a quick phone call to FBICTU could've lead to their resident bomb disposal expert talking someone through the process. But I suppose we needed to save a bit of time so that Tony could drag out his execution of Alan Wilson, just long enough for our heroes to burst in and stop it. To be honest, I don't have a problem with this as such, since it leads to some excellent dialogue between all involved, but did they really need to go down the pregnancy route? Sure, Bernard does a nice job of selling Tony's pain when he screams "you killed my son!" but this just feels tagged on, one step too far in the guy's motivation. It would've been enough to have led with the fact that the man killed his wife, putting an end to the peaceful life he'd established with her. Throwing an unborn child into the mix just feels tacky and unnecessary, as if the writers didn't have enough faith in their plot to believe we'd buy into it, and so dredged up the one the one motif they could think of that would most conventionally tug at the heartstrings.
And after having successfully made us all teary-eyed with some beautiful two-handers that see Jack putting his affairs in order, first with Renee and then with the priest from a few episodes back - a pair of scenes that provide a neat conclusion to the season's central debate between 'the law' and 'what is right', while also returning to most important factor of all: the implications for Bauer's character - the writers do the most painfully obvious thing and bring Kim back into play in the last few moments, having her show up at the hospital and demand to be readied for major stem cell surgery. For a good twenty minutes or so prior to this, it actually seems like 24 is going to leave us on the idea of Jack potentially dying, not giving us a resolution to his plight until next season. And while we'd all certainly be aware that he'd be back up and running in year eight because, let's face it, Keifer is signed up for it, it would have been a far better way of closing this troubled narrative strand than the frustratingly predictable turn of events that actually occur. Oh sure, it's well within the realms of believability for Kim's character, but it's just annoying, speaking volumes about the absurdity of the whole storyline. There has never been any doubt in the mind of any viewer of the show that Jack will survive this infection. None whatsoever. If they'd done this in the final season, or if we weren't aware that Sutherland was returning, it could've been a hugely rewarding, and brave, plot twist but as it is, it's just redundant. It muddies the feeling that one is left with at the end of the episode; instead of being stoked at all the fantastic acting and writing we've just seen unfold before our eyes, we're deflated, rolling our eyes, asking "what WAS the point?" Was it to give Sutherland a chance to prove his acting chops? Well, we know that already. To give him a few different beats to play? Well okay, but there are plenty of other ways of achieving that. If any of the other characters had been lying in that hospital bed, dying of the pathogen, the final scene, no matter how absurd, would still have been umpteen times more rewarding than it currently is, and that just makes the 'cliffhanger' all the more depressing.
'7am - 8am' is an unquestionably strong close to a pretty darn exciting season. Gordon, Coto and Braga's script concentrates on character than action and in so doing, provides a far more rewarding viewing experience. The various two-handers between Jack and Tony, Tony and Wilson, Jack and Renee and so on, really magnify the humanity at the core of the story, reminding us all that these catastrophic events are happening to people, which in turn makes everything considerably more believable and worth investing in. Each narrative gets a satisfying pay-off, from the painfully emotional resolution to Olivia's story, in which the President thankfully makes the most logical decision for her character, right down to the understated and brief farewell between Janis and Chloe. It's not perfect by any means; narrative beats such as Michelle's pregnancy are more irritating than interesting, and the final scene does nothing but reiterate the pointlessness of Jack's infection, but in the end, there's enough exceptional material to keep it well above water. Proof positive that there's life in the old dog yet. 8.8
Wr: David Fury & Alex Gansa
Dr: Jon Cassar
Synopsis: After a gruelling 22 hours that saw the return of former partner Tony Almeida, terrorists besieging the Capitol and several heroic sacrifices, Jack reaches an emotional turning point and the end is in sight as another day of hell draws to a close.
Review: Well, thank God the writing staff picked themselves up, dusted themselves down and put their collective heads together for this one; after the diabolical disappointment that was last week's '5am - 6am', 24 looked set to deliver its most worthlessly insipid finale ever, full of cougar-esque Kim chases and ludicrous FBI vs. CTU bickering. That this is not the case is a testament to David Fury and Alex Gansa's considerable writing talents, especially when one considers that a large number of the plot developments that occur in '6am - 7am' have, at their core, a rather undesirable element. A potent example of this is the game of bait and switch between Olivia and Ethan, with Aaron thrown in the mix for good measure. The story is centred on the laughable ball of convenience that is the 'digital recording device', something that, bizarrely, the new Acting Chief of Staff wasn't made aware of when she was inaugurated into the position. Furthermore, the notion that Ethan failed to turn the thing off when he resigned his commission about ten hours ago is rather preposterous and a thoroughly transparent way of allowing the writers to get to their designed end point. However, these gripes are glossed over somewhat by a combination of sublime dialogue and superlative acting. Everyone involved in the ever-unfolding intrigue is absolutely at the top of their game, including the guys that play Martin and Tim, regardless of how small a part they have to play. Glenn Morshower is superb as always as Agent Pierce, successfully selling the gravity of the situation with every subtle nuance in his conversation with Ethan.
And check out the horror that consumes Sprague Grayden as she uncovers the recording device (I rolled my eyes a little at Ethan having left it open, what a cliche!) and how she holds up against an actor of Bob Gunton's calibre when she 'interrogates' Ethan while he's in custody. There are some delightfully subtle lines here, from Olivia's joy at the fact that he still stands for her after so many years, which lends significant weight and believability to their relationship, to their respective exploitation of legalise and penchant for deceit. When Olivia remarks that the President ordered Kanin's detention, it's a wonderfully eerie moment, providing a quick kick to the viewer's stomach and demonstrating just how far off the rails her character has gone. And more impressively, the fact that Ethan foils Olivia, giving her a blank disc, would ordinarily seem rather contrived; however, here, the problem is offset by our knowledge of the characters. From all that we have seen of their troubled relationship over the course of the season, it is entirely logical that Kanin wouldn't trust Taylor, that he would have a back-up plan in case things went wrong; his line, "one has to be prepared when dealing with Olivia" says it all and allows for events to seem less forced.
Over at Dial-an-Operating-Theatre, meanwhile, things don't look too good for poor, poor Jack Bauer. Last week, I lamented the culmination of the bioterrorist threat, believing that the writers dropped the ball on the main thrust of the narrative, tying things up too soon and apparently directing the story in a highly lamentable direction: the retrieval of Kim bloody Bauer. Thankfully, things don't quite turn out that way; instead, Tony has yet another plan, an "even bigger picture" (to paraphrase the guy), that he wishes to use to gain himself a position in the shady group. There is some sort of logic in his dastardly scheme to harvest Jack's organs - oh my God, 24's turning into Saw, or something - even if one suspects that the science behind the whole scheme of 'reconstituting the virus' is probably a little hokey. But then, what do I know? Biology (or chemistry, whatever the hell you'd call this) was never was my strong point. Anyway, more importantly, this gives the hour an undercurrent of foreboding, a slowly-building wave of horror that never reaches a dramatic apex but just bubbles under, chilling rather than scaring you witless. Interestingly, this seems to work just as well, if not better, than any intense action-fest or race against time because it's unusual for the show, and therefore unpredictable. Without a threat to stop or lives to save, the emphasis of the story shifts to the identities of the 'shady group' and the interplay between characters which, because they are so well delineated, works extremely well.
Every one of Almeida's scenes with Cara, for example, seem loaded with intrigue; they unbalance the viewer as we don't have the full picture. Motives aren't clearly drawn, histories not well established. The same can be said of Cara's phone conversation with good ol' Will Patton at episode's end, which is made all the more menacing by our lack of information about the character. There's an absolutely wonderful use of split screen here, as a shot of Tony is placed inbetween the phone call, visually symbolising the state of play between the three. Jon Cassar actually exploits this device to the max throughout the episode, using it to ramp up the tension when Jack orchestrates Tony's escape by continually increasing the number of shots, peppering the screen with different viewpoints that send your eyes darting about all over the shop. And then, just for kicks, he does it again in the closing moments, allowing the action to run on in all the 'boxes' as they bleed into one another, which in turn gives the plot a greater feeling of gravitas.
'6am - 7am' is not without its more regrettable moments, however, and the majority of these centre on, you guessed it, Kimberly 'I want to be my daddy!' Bauer. Elisha Cuthbert does manage to do a good job with some of the material she is given - particularly in the thoroughly convincing 'game face' that she puts on for her captors - but this doesn't disguise the myriad problems that haunt her story. The ridiculous 'evil computer spycam' plot is foiled by the simple act of someone needing to sit down in a packed airport which, you would think, the highly intelligent 'terrorists' might have thought of. In fact, you'd imagine they wouldn't do something as ridiculous as train a camera on an individual and have the shot showing on the full screen of their computer for the whole world to see but what the hey, it's a minute detail right, we should forgive it. Well, it would easier to if there weren't so many other facepalm moments. The shoot out sequence in the airport is very well choreographed, with bullets flying everywhere, panicked citizens running for their lives and shaky, hand held camera movements creating a prominent sense of unease and hysteria. However, exactly what is gained by two poorly armed people trying to take out an entire airport full of security? In fact, scratch that, one man with one gun, since his 'wife' is too busy trying to knife their target in the back. Really, could they not have found a more subtle way of offing Kim than by effectively telling everyone in the building what they're doing? Sure, it appears that the police are on their way to intercept them but why not just quickly stab Kim and then scarper? Sigh.
The silliness doesn't stop there though, oh no. The writers are clearly trying to draw parallels between father and daughter, turning Kim into a sort of Jack-lite. Unfortunately, it doesn't really work. She stabs the crazy coffee-drinking female with a pen and it practically incapacitates her! Riiiight. Then, she's on the phone to Renee, dispensing with all pleasantries and shouting "security's down!", demanding to know "where are the airport police?" and finally, capping it all off with a very poor "dammit!" that doesn't even come close to any of Sutherland's utterances of the word. In fact, it's practically an insult to his genius to even have her consider stealing his catchphrase. Now, sure, we get that Kim worked at CTU once so she has some sort of experience with all of this. And yeah, it's far preferable to see her acting with a modicum of intelligence than simply running around being chased by God knows what. However, the transformation is just too great. When she sat at her computer screen in season three, occasionally looking after babies and getting into bitch fights with Chloe, she was hardly the most level-headed or experienced of agents. I'd say, in terms of her combat-readiness, she was at about the same level as Janis Gold is right now. Kim was a 'systems analyst' for crying out loud, not a field operative! (Her one excursion into the field was hardly complex, was it? She just had to don a disguise!) And in the six years that it's been since she was last recruited by the government, where has she managed to develop the experience needed to be so on the ball and forward-thinking in a crisis situation? I mean Christ, it gets to the point where she risks her life to retrieve a computer! Not only does she follow the gun-toting bad guy instead of doing the sensible, ordinary thing and letting the authorities do their jobs (she has no weapon for crying out loud!), but once he's practically killed himself, she climbs into a blazing car just to get a piece of evidence that might help in the retrieval of Tony/her dad. If the thing weren't on fire, maybe I'd accept it, but the risk is far too great. Oh and furthermore, technology develops rather substantially in six years so I find it hard to believe that the kind of digital camera that is attached to the laptop would fit the specification for the mysterious 'D-11 router' that Kim is so knowledgeable about. Whatever expertise she had is unquestionably long outdated now; and in any case, back tracing the source with a router? Technobabble, much?
There are a couple of other lamentable plot decisions too - the fact that Jack manages to overpower everyone after having been paralysed, as well as suffering the effects of the pathogen, is a little ridiculous, even if his throat-slitting is uber cool, and why exactly are two of the doctors wearing masks but the third one isn't? Huh? Still, these are minor gripes that don't really distract from the overall quality of the episode. On the whole, '6am - 7am' is a considerably entertaining piece, loaded with interesting developments, some excellent character scenes, particularly between Olivia, Ethan and Aaron, and a considerable amount of tension. While the final hours lack a central dramatic event, this actually proves to be beneficial, shifting the emphasis away from explosions and races against time and more towards mystery and intrigue. There are elements of the plot that are questionably handled, most notably Kim's transformation into a mini version of her daddy, but these don't hamper the episode's quality too much. Good stuff then, building into the final hour with considerable finesse. 8.3
724: '7am - 8am'
Teleplay: Howard Gordon
Story: Manny Coto & Brannon Braga
Dr: Jon Cassar
Synopsis: After a gruelling 22 hours that saw the return of former partner Tony Almeida, terrorists besieging the Capitol and several heroic sacrifices, Jack reaches an emotional turning point and the end is in sight as another day of hell draws to a close
Review: Well, there's no denying it: 24 really ups its game with this heart stopper of a finale but its strength lies not so much in the action, which is over within the first twenty minutes, but in the character interplay, in the way in which the dialogue cuts to the heart of the emotional conflicts that have permeated the season. Gordon, Braga and Coto's script features a sleu of outstanding individual scenes that are not only thoroughly believable, but also sell the humanity of the characters whose tumultuous lives we love to see roller-coaster all over Washington DC week in, week out. To begin, we have the duplicitous, tortured Tony Almeida whose motivation is finally exposed for all the world to see. Granted, as soon as he unleashes yet another "ah hah! But that is not my real plan!", it sets the eyes a-rolling, but the show cleverly avoids making its viewers feel like they are being jerked around by grounding the events in the kind of emotion that we can really invest in. It isn't too great a stretch to accept that he is doing this for Michelle, for all that he lost so cruelly two seasons ago, and Bernard sells it so well with every clearly pained nuance of his performance that the smattering of inconsistencies can be overlooked. While the notion that Alan Wilson was responsible for 'the Logan affair' is a clever move, rewarding loyal viewers with a nod to continuity, it still rankles a little that Almeida was willing to murder Larry Moss and, more importantly, to potentially infect thousands of civilians with a lethal pathogen. However, all of this is pushed to the furthest reaches of the mind as soon as he and Jack trade psychoanalytic barbs ("you're not honouring Michelle's life, you're revelling in her death" is perhaps my favourite); Sutherland and Bernard are just so fantastic, so emotionally intense, that it negates any doubts that we may have. The tension in the scene where Almeida wires Bauer with C4 threatens to cut through your screen, it's so sharp, and Jon Cassar does a wonderful job of amplifying it with some erratic, shadowy direction. And at the end of the day, there's something fairly logical about the idea of Tony 'playing both sides' anyway, of him being without a moral compass after all that he's been through. He doesn't care who he takes down with him, as long as he gets to achieve his end game and while we may not like it, after years of forming a close bond with the character, we can at least understand and accept it. It's arguably far more realistic than a cut and dry 'good vs. evil' motif, where everyone falls in line with established norms. There's far, far more humanity in the flawed, in hate, in revenge. When he screams, "what did you do? You ran away!" at Jack once Alan Wilson is taken into custody, it really resonates with the viewer because we can see his point. Those around Bauer die and the perpetrators rarely ever pay for their crimes; isn't it about time someone changed all that? It's rivetingly complex stuff, denying us the ability to box these characters off as 'good' or 'bad', and three-dimensionalising them instead.
While we're on the subject of Wilson, how incredible is Will Patton, huh? With the utmost brevity, he manages to sell the threat of a character we have barely had the chance to explore, giving him the kind of proverbial weight as a villain that is genuinely frightening. For the duration of his performance - from his Western-style confrontation with Tony outside the warehouse, shot using wide angles to give everything more gravitas, to his stint in FBI custody - he remains absolutely steadfast, barely moving an inch and staring, nay glaring, into the distance. His eyes are terrifyingly piercing, rarely allowed to blink, and the way in which he shows absolutely no emotion, regardless of what is being said to him, is incredibly unnerving. It doesn't matter what is being said - Tony offering his services, Renee threatening him with the death penalty - he remains unmoved, steady in his belief that he is effectively untouchable. The only extravagance he is afforded is a penchant for muttering 'huh' under his breath which, given that the term conveys curiosity, is only the more disquieting. This is the kind of villain that truly rewards the viewer, not a bumbling, psychotically deranged lunatic like Jonas Hodges, or an OTT gun blazer like General Juma. No, it's the quiet ones that are the most believable, which obviously bodes well for the eighth season given that, from the closing moments, it looks like he might just show up again. This is another of the episode's many strong points; for the first time in many years, it seems that the central plot is not over at year's end. The 'shadowy conspiracy' is not exposed and the inclusion of Renee's 'to torture or not to torture? That is the question!' moment, while a little extraneous, does seem to suggest that we will carry on exploring this angle next year. Mind, we said the same about President Palmer being infected with a a biological agent at the end of season two and look where that got us...
Speaking of Presidents, the Olivia Taylor storyline comes to a close and it's a somewhat surprising highlight. While Glenn Morshower is uncharacteristically hammy when he and Ethan confront the Chief of Staff, pulling somewhat ludicrous 'disgusted' faces and over-emphasising words, everyone else knocks one right out of the park. Grayden, Jones and Feore are absolutely excellent in Olivia's confessional scene, believably selling every painful shred of emotion that passes between the characters. The dialogue is perfect too, from Alison's very palpable struggle between her head and her heart, between what she should do as President of the United States and what she wants to do as a mother, to Henry's thoroughly human pleas for his wife to think about what this will do to their family. And as if all this wasn't enough to sell you on the intensity
of the situation, Sean Callery's music magnifies it tenfold, using mysterious whistling noises, long-playing discordant notes and the intermittent sound of a heartbeat that increases in volume but never in pace. It really lifts the scene, giving it a gravity that would undoubtedly be missing without it. You may be tempted to pour scorn on the notion that the music has any real impact, as I have heard from countless sources, but I dare you to try watching the programme without it. It's as much a character as any of the actual people in the show; if you can get your hands on an unedited version of the programme, on the dailies say, you'll find it a completely different and far less rewarding experience than when Callery works his magic all over it.
'7am - 8am' contains much else that's enjoyable too. Both central action sequences are exceptionally choreographed: Jack and Tony's mini-battle in the, um, garage (?) is suitably intense and thankfully brief, containing a true punch-the-air moment when Bauer's plan doesn't come to fruition. It's become all too easy over the years for Jack to simply achieve everything that he sets out to because, well, 'he's Jack Bauer, he's superhuman', so much so that it's turned into a bit of an irritating cliche, but this reverses the trend, humanising the character again and making the situation far more realistic, even if it is implied that it's all because he's dying of Deadly Pathogen Disease. The moment where he starts to spasm while trying to get under the shutter is a very nice touch, lending credence to his struggle. Mind, we could have done without Tony's magical forklift commandeering and the rather conveniently placed sticks of dynamite (well of course there'd be some lying around, silly! Groan!), but these are minor quibbles. The hour's major battle, meanwhile, the shoot out at the Warehouse Coral, is outstanding. This is Jon Cassar's last stab at depicting all out chaos (he's not returning for the eighth season, sadly) and, as per, he delivers above and beyond the call of duty. Every frame of the sequence is loaded with activity as bullets ricochet everywhere, soldiers, both FBI and 'government conspiracy', run around in complete disarray, collapsing onto one another or firing at the FBI. And then there's the assault from the helicopter which is just magnificent, really believably handled.
It's a shame that the plot itself occasionally threatens to undermine the strength of the direction; the initial appearance of Renee and co. is head-scratchingly sudden, seeming a little out of place. At the beginning of the episode, Kim laments that they haven't been able to track Almeida's location through the combination of the rather spurious 'D11 router' and the laptop's camera, even though it's only been, like, five minutes since she retrieved the damn thing from the burning wreckage of a car. Then, ten minutes later, they've got the exact location and have managed to get there just in the nick of time to prevent Jack from blowing to smithereens? Um, how is that exactly? The writers don't even give us a throwaway line of dialogue between Chloe and Janis that would indicate that they've 'cracked the code' or some such gumf. Oh, and Renee, shock of shocks, happens to recognise the exact trigger mechanism that Jack's wired with and so is able to disarm the bomb in about ten seconds! This is a little sloppy, feeling like a rushed solution to the narrative being backed into a corner, rather than an organic method of nullifying the problem. Arguably, an opportunity for still more dramatic tension is greatly missed here, since a quick phone call to FBICTU could've lead to their resident bomb disposal expert talking someone through the process. But I suppose we needed to save a bit of time so that Tony could drag out his execution of Alan Wilson, just long enough for our heroes to burst in and stop it. To be honest, I don't have a problem with this as such, since it leads to some excellent dialogue between all involved, but did they really need to go down the pregnancy route? Sure, Bernard does a nice job of selling Tony's pain when he screams "you killed my son!" but this just feels tagged on, one step too far in the guy's motivation. It would've been enough to have led with the fact that the man killed his wife, putting an end to the peaceful life he'd established with her. Throwing an unborn child into the mix just feels tacky and unnecessary, as if the writers didn't have enough faith in their plot to believe we'd buy into it, and so dredged up the one the one motif they could think of that would most conventionally tug at the heartstrings.
And after having successfully made us all teary-eyed with some beautiful two-handers that see Jack putting his affairs in order, first with Renee and then with the priest from a few episodes back - a pair of scenes that provide a neat conclusion to the season's central debate between 'the law' and 'what is right', while also returning to most important factor of all: the implications for Bauer's character - the writers do the most painfully obvious thing and bring Kim back into play in the last few moments, having her show up at the hospital and demand to be readied for major stem cell surgery. For a good twenty minutes or so prior to this, it actually seems like 24 is going to leave us on the idea of Jack potentially dying, not giving us a resolution to his plight until next season. And while we'd all certainly be aware that he'd be back up and running in year eight because, let's face it, Keifer is signed up for it, it would have been a far better way of closing this troubled narrative strand than the frustratingly predictable turn of events that actually occur. Oh sure, it's well within the realms of believability for Kim's character, but it's just annoying, speaking volumes about the absurdity of the whole storyline. There has never been any doubt in the mind of any viewer of the show that Jack will survive this infection. None whatsoever. If they'd done this in the final season, or if we weren't aware that Sutherland was returning, it could've been a hugely rewarding, and brave, plot twist but as it is, it's just redundant. It muddies the feeling that one is left with at the end of the episode; instead of being stoked at all the fantastic acting and writing we've just seen unfold before our eyes, we're deflated, rolling our eyes, asking "what WAS the point?" Was it to give Sutherland a chance to prove his acting chops? Well, we know that already. To give him a few different beats to play? Well okay, but there are plenty of other ways of achieving that. If any of the other characters had been lying in that hospital bed, dying of the pathogen, the final scene, no matter how absurd, would still have been umpteen times more rewarding than it currently is, and that just makes the 'cliffhanger' all the more depressing.
'7am - 8am' is an unquestionably strong close to a pretty darn exciting season. Gordon, Coto and Braga's script concentrates on character than action and in so doing, provides a far more rewarding viewing experience. The various two-handers between Jack and Tony, Tony and Wilson, Jack and Renee and so on, really magnify the humanity at the core of the story, reminding us all that these catastrophic events are happening to people, which in turn makes everything considerably more believable and worth investing in. Each narrative gets a satisfying pay-off, from the painfully emotional resolution to Olivia's story, in which the President thankfully makes the most logical decision for her character, right down to the understated and brief farewell between Janis and Chloe. It's not perfect by any means; narrative beats such as Michelle's pregnancy are more irritating than interesting, and the final scene does nothing but reiterate the pointlessness of Jack's infection, but in the end, there's enough exceptional material to keep it well above water. Proof positive that there's life in the old dog yet. 8.8
Monday 18 May 2009
Almost forgot about #musicmonday...
This week, I thought I'd treat you to some truly beautiful songs. Real heartstring tuggers, these. They need no introduction.
1. DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE: 'Transatlanticism'
2. JIMMY EAT WORLD: '23' (Live)
3. THE GASLIGHT ANTHEM: 'Here's Looking At You, Kid'
4. R.E.M.: 'Nightswimming' (Live, Jools Holland)
5. MANIC STREET PREACHERS: 'This Is Yesterday'
6. FRANK TURNER: 'Casanova Lament'
7. MUSE: 'Blackout' (HAARP)
8. IDLEWILD: 'Quiet Crown' (Live)
9. JUMP, LITTLE CHILDREN: 'Cathedrals' (Live)
10. BRAND NEW: 'Me Vs. Maradona Vs. Elvis'
1. DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE: 'Transatlanticism'
2. JIMMY EAT WORLD: '23' (Live)
3. THE GASLIGHT ANTHEM: 'Here's Looking At You, Kid'
4. R.E.M.: 'Nightswimming' (Live, Jools Holland)
5. MANIC STREET PREACHERS: 'This Is Yesterday'
6. FRANK TURNER: 'Casanova Lament'
7. MUSE: 'Blackout' (HAARP)
8. IDLEWILD: 'Quiet Crown' (Live)
9. JUMP, LITTLE CHILDREN: 'Cathedrals' (Live)
10. BRAND NEW: 'Me Vs. Maradona Vs. Elvis'
Review: Desperate Housewives season five finale (#523: 'Everybody Says Don't'/#524: 'If It's Only In Your Head')
523: 'Everybody Says Don't'
Wr: John Pardee & Joey Murphy
Dr: Bethany Rooney
Synopsis: Gabrielle and Carlos attend a family meeting in which they are asked to take care of their niece, Lynette is upset with Tom for his latest "bright idea," Orson threatens to blackmail Bree, and Susan accepts Dave's "friendly" gesture.
Review: 'Everybody Says Don't' fixes some of the problems that have beset Desperate Housewives in the past few weeks, although a number of rather undesirable plot elements still manage to worm their way into the story. The pace finally begins to ramp up as Dave's master plan takes centre stage, which is counter pointed rather nicely with the slowly increasing involvement of the authorities, as they begin to put the pieces together. While the excessively smug attitudes of the two policemen are somewhat lamentable, and their apparent lack of professionalism in the scene with Dr. Heller's secretary is a little baffling (surely they wouldn't discuss their plans for the case in front of a citizen? "Hmm, maybe we should send a text back!" Huh?), it is nevertheless pleasing to see somebody finally obtaining the knowledge that we, as an audience, have harboured for the last six months. The reintroduction of Karen and Roberta to the story is also very welcome, as the comic interplay between the two is always a delight to behold, although the forthcoming incorporation of yet another burglary into the show does seem to betray its struggle with the concept of originality. The trajectory of the plot is a little predictable too: it's practically a given that MJ won't snuff it, so something will have to interrupt Dave's plan. My money's on Mike either finding out that Williams is being pursued by the police for questioning, and therefore contributing to their finding him, or, as is more likely after the suspicious look he gives Dave at episode's end, on him deciding to watch the strictly verboten 'band' video tape before he goes on his honeymoon which, obviously, would reveal the entire plan to him and send him running right after the fishing trio with a shotgun in his hand.
Let's face it guys, this is utterly ridiculous. Sure, it makes a semblance of sense that Dave would try to explain his reasoning on tape, and it gives us a deliciously menacing opening scene (credit to Neal McDonough for some top notch acting), but really, what self-respecting revenge-driven psychopath hands the keys to his secret identity to his victims? Huh? He might as well blurt the entire plan out in Mike's face, while Susan and the little brat are watching, so ludicrously flawed are his actions. What guarantee does he have that Delfino will wait until after his honeymoon with Katherine to watch the tape? Um, precisely none. In fact, what guarantee does he have that the flipping wedding will even go ahead, given how emotionally stunted the whole thing is? A couple of hours or so after MJ, Susan and Dave leave, Mike has a change of heart and whoops! Wedding's off. Time to sit down with a nice cold one in front of the TV and reminisce about the band camaraderie of old. Except... not. Surely it would have made more sense for Dave to keep the tape in his own house so that it can be found when the police inevitably search it? Or, even better, to mail it with a required delivery date? But no, that would be too easy, too logical, too realistic; it couldn't be the crimp in his plan then, the device needed to spark the awareness that is needed to save MJ. Sigh. This is so transparent, it might as well be a deux et machina.
Oh and while we're on the subject, I have such little faith in the Housewives writing staff that I am virtually convinced that this whole storyline is going to be the catalyst for the practically inevitable break-up of Mike and Katherine. Their relationship has been so denigrated in the past few weeks that it seems ludicrous to think they'll actually go through with the incredibly rushed wedding. We've been hit over the head, time and time again, with the notion that there are flaws in their coupling, from the fact that they 'want different things' to Mayfair's oft-irritating insecurity to Mike's apparently rekindled love for Susan bloody Myer. The next logical step seems to be the acknowledgement of these problems, and what's the betting that it will take Mike rushing to his son's aid, to the detriment of his impending marriage (you can bet your bottom dollar that all this will occur during the wedding itself; Housewives is in love with tired clichés, after all), to achieve this? He'll save the day, rescue his family and realise just how much he's missing. Or maybe worry that MJ has no big, strong, manly man around to save him from evil ogres like Dave Williams and therefore vow to 'try to work things out with Susan'. Sigh. I really, really don't want it to happen. I'd love for the show to take us in a completely unexpected direction, to actually have the courage of its convictions and put a permanent stop to the perpetual merry-go-round that is Delfino and Myer's useless waste of a relationship, but I just can't see it happening. Look at the scenes they all have together in this episode, for crying out loud: oh sure, Susan ultimately gives the lovers her 'blessing', demanding to know whether Mike is in love with Katherine before giving the supposed thumbs-up, but you just know it's completely forced. Her initial reaction is the most telling and the writers just couldn't resist loading it with evident disappointment. For God's sake, they can't even give her an attempt at a sincere line of dialogue! "Oh, do we have your blessing Susan?" "Yes, sure, why not?" That's it? Please! Susan Myer, you are hereby presented with the award for Most Insincere Congratulations EVER. And yeah, that's the point but why does it have to be this way? Why couldn't Myer just be over Mike, for crying out loud? Why do we need to walk down this battered and beaten path for the umpteenth time? And as if Susan's lovesick heart wasn't bad enough, Katherine's character is turned into a sorry, whimpering mess when she utters the line "I can make him happy Susan. He just needs to get over you." Please, how pathetic! And then Mike even apologises! To Susan! God!
Thankfully, there are shafts of light in the remaining storylines. While Bree's criminal activity still leaves a bit of a sour taste in the mouth, her exchanges with Karl remain a definite comedy highlight as Richard Burgi proves to be the perfect adolescent foil for Marcia Cross's pristine, self-contained character. It's good to see the cogs turning on the story too as Orson finally obtains the upper hand; the two scenes in which the husband and wife are together are both excellently realised, with some fine, fine acting and sparkling dialogue. Orson's "oh sure we'll have our challenges - your penchant for emasulation, my kleptomania - but every marriage has
its ebs and flows" is a strong candidate for best line of the year. Lynette and Tom's storyline actually manages to be somewhat interesting, as the repetitive nature of their 'problems' is finally offset by the inclusion of another character. Granted, Porter's actual involvement turns out to be fairly minimal, but at least it's refreshing to see him, and it leads to a fairly logical development for Tom's character. Pleasingly, the writers don't have him ace the test despite his inebriated state, or find some other way around the problem so that he is able to pursue his dream (or at least not in this episode anyway) but instead, they give Lynette a well-deserved proverbial kick to the stomach. Still, the notion that Tom was given the wrong date for the admissions test, and that it is, like, within a couple of days of his visit, is a bit of an eye-roller. And finally, there's Gaby's story which, once again, is bogged down in the character's irritating selfishness (she is actually teaching her daughter to be mean in her first scene!), but at least something interesting appears to have come from it, something that will actually have an impact on the ongoing narrative instead of simply reinforcing personality traits that we've all become far too accustomed to.
This is something of a difficult episode to rate. While, on the one hand, there are a number of eminently enjoyable elements to the hour, largely centred on narrative developments that push the housewives' respective stories forward in interesting, and not always predictable ways, there are still a great number of frustratingly ill-conceived tropes that cause the eyes to roll. Sure, we've got some excellent individual scenes, providing the cast with an opportunity to demonstrate their considerable acting chops, but they don't always manage to offset the bitter taste provided by problematic elements such as 'the ballad of Mike and Susan' or Dave's ridiculous tape recording. Heading into the finale, there is much promise but sadly, there is much to dread too, as the narrative trajectory seems to be heading in some very, very lamentable directions. Still, the writing staff have another forty five minutes to pull their fingers out of their asses and surprise us all. Let's hope they rise to the challenge. 6.9
524: 'If It's Only in your Head'
Wr: Jeffrey Richman
Dr: David Goldman
Synopsis: Lynette adapts to Tom's decision to go back to school, Orson takes a beating that Bree cannot comprehend, Gabrielle's niece (guest star Maiara Walsh) moves to Wisteria Lane, and Susan and MJ's lives are in grave danger at the hands of Dave.
Review: 'If It's Only In Your Head' is an unconscionable mess of an episode, a thoroughly horrible anti-climax to what has generally been a good year. Jeffrey Richman's script piles cliché on top of cliche, insulting our intelligence further and further with every turn of the 'predictability-o-meter', until finally, by the time the woefully artificial cliffhanger rears its ugly head, we really just don't care any more. The question of who it is that Mike Delfino has married this time around is undoubtedly supposed to generate some intrigue, keeping us all on tenterhooks for four months, playing guessing games with our buddies. Sadly, all it does is get the eyes rolling. It smells rather pungently like a cop-out, as if the writing staff didn't have the courage of their convictions; they weren't confident enough in their own ability to tell a story (hell, after these past few weeks, why would they be?), so they left the thread dangling, affording them the opportunity to gauge the mood of their audience and, probably, go with what the general consensus is. I'm not exactly hopeful that Katherine will be the one under that veil and, even if she is, the writers have hardly engendered enough trust in their ability to comfortably represent her relationship with Mike to make us believe that the marriage would last. Trust me, if they go this route, within about five or six weeks of the premiere, Myer will worm her way back into their lives, reconstructing the triangle one more flaming time. It's far likelier though, unfortunately, that Mike will be tying the knot with Susan again, continuing the seemingly never ending cycle of their relationship; it's on, it's off, it's on, it's off, it's maybe on, it's definitely off. No wait, it's on. God, won't someone put an end to this already? Haven't we suffered enough?
Apparently not, according to Marc Cherry. No, we need to milk this abysmally insipid storyline for all that it's worth... so why not have Mike snog his ex-wife upon finding her safe and sound? Yeah, that's a great idea. That won't cause a entire nation to facepalm themselves, oh no. Sigh. It's really rather insulting that it's the abduction of Susan and MJ that seemingly reignites the old flame; um, inappropriate, much? Surely this storyline should be about Dave and his psychological misfortunes, not about the burning passion that just can't help but smoulder away beneath the stoic fronts put up by this most tortured of couples? Would it really have killed Richman to have simply had Mike be stoked to see that his child wasn't murdered? Instead of providing a comfortable resolution to the season-spanning story, this took the wind out of its sails, demonstrating that no matter how disparate the plot, Desperate Housewives will always come back to the never-ending ballad of Delfino and Myer. How utterly, utterly depressing. Oh and just to make matters worse, the writing staff continue to drag Katherine down into this thematic quagmire too, turning her into an irritatingly jealous bunny boiler. When they are in the airport, waiting to travel to Vegas, Mike calls Susan to make sure his kid is okay, after having had a 'funny feeling' about Dave when he left them. Fair enough, you might think... but not to Katherine, oh no. She has a hissy fit about the fact that he's talking to his ex-wife, when it's their 'special day'. Well, who hasn't seen that one coming for about four weeks, huh? When Delfino says, "are we really going to do this again?", it's as if is tuned into the minds of the show's viewership, regurgitating exactly what we're thinking. Now sure, this is followed up with some reassurance and a seemingly sincere declaration, but when you take all that subsequently happens with Susan into consideration, it doesn't seem like there's much hope for this particular narrative trope, does there? This is just Ian, Susan's British ex, all over again; Katherine is effectively a stop-gap in Mike and Susan's pursuit of true love, a way of keeping them apart for the duration of the season, so that they can be reunited again at the very end. It's trite, it's useless and above all else, it's boring. Change the record Desperate Housewives, we've well and truly had enough.
The crap don't stop there mind, oh no. Richman's script just keeps churning it out, as if categorically unable to grasp the most basic tenants of storytelling. As we all expected after watching 'Everybody Says Don't', it is Dave's utterly ridiculous decision to hand Mike a confessional tape that springs our heroes into action and ultimately saves the day. As if the fact that Delfino receives the thing before the deed has been done isn't unbelievable enough, we have to swallow the fact that Katherine would just so happen to pick this exact tape up from the drawer when Mike mentions that there are old ones in there, even though it is actually marked with the word 'band' and none of the others have any markings, and then we are expected to believe that Katherine's bag 'knocking' the thing when it's in the camcorder is what allows Mike to see it in time. Talk about your clichés. Mind, all this pales in comparison to his subsequent actions. How very convenient to the 'ballad of Mike and Susan' that the guy can't find Katherine when he needs to, when all she's done is gone to get a coffee. Where the hell could she be? How far could she go in ten seconds? As if this isn't bad enough, his decision to tell the nearest person to speak to his girlfriend, to tell her he has to leave because 'it is an emergency', is so transparent, it's unreal. The viewer knows exactly how it will play out and sure enough, it does, in all its agonisingly irritating glory. With Mike gone, straight after having been confronted by Katherine as to whether he truly loves her or not, it seems to Mayfair like he has bailed! And then, the elderly lady fails to mention the rather crucial nugget of information about his departure being 'an emergency'; instead, she just says he had to leave! Well, how about that, eh? It plants further doubt in Katherine's mind, strengthening her belief that things aren't working out between the two of them. It seems that he doesn't even call her either, which is what any sane individual would do, right after they've dialled their ex-wife and the cops. This is all supposed to be an unfortunate turn of events, circumstances that conspire against the actualisation of a relationship, but in reality, it's a bunch of artificial, ill-conceived narrative beats that help to guide a worthless story to its tiresome conclusion.
Arguably, the same can be said of the confrontation itself, which is also fraught with plot holes. For starters, we have Dave pointing a gun at Susan, directly in MJ's line of vision. He certainly doesn't do a good job of disguising his intentions: if the kid moved to his right, or leaned forward a little to speak to his mommy, he'd be able to see exactly what the guy's doing! Then we have Mike's oh-so-convenient sojourn down Route 12, which just so happens to lead to the exact spot where Susan careered into the Dashes three years ago. This certainly doesn't seem to have been Dave's plan all along, as he looks genuinely surprised when Mike tells him where he is, and there has been talk of 'an accident at the lake' during the fishing trip. No, it's just another marvellous coincidence, another fortunate happenstance in this most trite of narratives! Kinda like Delfino's timely memory loss, his drawing a blank at the mention of the road where the fateful accident occurred. Erm, colour me unconvinced but surely you don't forget even the slightest of details about such catastrophic events, events that actually change your life? Hell, Susan's ears prick up as soon as Dave blurts out the words but her ex-husband? Nah, he doesn't bat an eyelid. If he did, you see, he'd probably cotton on to Dash's plan, thereby denying us the 'big action sequence' (read 'minor car crash') that we're all just dying to see! Groan. As if this isn't bad enough, when the collision does occur, Mike picks himself up, dusts himself down and walks away with barely a scratch on him! How fortunate! And, more bafflingly, Dave actually chickens out at the last moment, saving MJ from certain doom. I'm sorry, but I have a very hard time buying this one, especially after the lengths that the writers have gone to for the entire season to show just how far the man will go to get his revenge. It's the only thing that drives him, for crying out loud, and now, after a few words from Susan and a timely psychological vision of his dead daughter, he bails? Now? When his plan is almost complete? Just at the right moment to make everything a-ok for our protagonists? Yeah, well, now that I think about it, it does seem about right. Convenience wins out over believability once again and the audience is left batting their heads off the nearest brick wall.
Okay, so the season-spanning story has the wind taken out of its sails and, in the end, it falls a little flat. Surely there must be some worth in the other narratives that pepper the hour? Right? Wrong. Gaby's story sees the writing staff treading on familiar ground yet again, except this time they've got a pretty new character to launch head-first into the mix. In Ana, we have another one-dimensional, manipulative cipher, one of American television's most popular representations of the 'teenager', entirely unlikeable and seemingly only there to drive another pointless wedge between Carlos and Gaby. When he doesn't side with his wife here, the conflict feels manufactured rather than organic, especially considering that her argument is pretty darn valid. Still, at least this isn't as bad as Bree's story which plumes whole new depths of ridiculousness with her affair with Karl. Come. On. Give me a sodding break. It's been apparent from the moment the two entered into business that she loathes the man, and given his sordid past with both Susan and Edie, she has every right to. Of all the women on Wysteria Lane, Bree Hodge is the least likely to ever start a fling with someone so utterly reprehensible and no, that doesn't mean it makes the plot development innovative and interesting. It makes it unbelievable and forced, a classic case of adapting character to fit narrative, which hardly makes for organic storytelling. Desperate Housewives proves that even it isn't safe from the old cliche that 'a [heterosexual] man and a [heterosexual] woman just can't be friends', which is one of the most infuriating conceits still prevalent in television. Still, at least there's Lynette's story. That's got to be the saving grace right? Think again buster. What do we have here? A pregnancy! Never done that one before! When she says, "we're having twins... again" in such an incredibly despondent voice, it accurately sums up the feeling of the story: we've been there, done that and we really don't need to see it again. This seems to put the brakes on Tom's desire to go to college which looked set to give the Scavos something interesting to do for once. But we couldn't have that, could we? In fact, we couldn't even have it turn into an abortion storyline, which is where my overly-optimistic mind thought it might be going. Nope, in the 'two months later' segment, Lynette's off being sick, indicating that yeah, those babes are still in there, just ready and waiting to come kicking and screaming out and give the family another few years of irritating 'you stay at home, I'll get a job', 'no, you stay at home, I'll get a job' narrative beats. Deary, deary me.
'If It's Only In Your Head' manages to completely botch all of the promise of its predecessor, 'Everybody Says Don't', and that really is no small feat. Jeffrey Richman's script slowly, and mercilessly, beats each housewife's respective story into the ground, one at a time, until all we're left with is a scrap of fine acting here and a shard of witty dialogue there. There really is very little to like about the episode: the central drama is bogged down in cliche and predictability, Mike and Katherine's impending wedding turns out like everyone with a single functioning brain cell expected that it would, and the B and C storylines feel pointless and tired and even when they're attempting to be original, as in Bree's narrative, they fail hopelessly, feeling contrived instead of believable. By the time the cliffhanger rolls around, it's difficult to give a rat's and that really isn't what the show needs right now. Frankly, this writer couldn't be any less interested in seeing a sixth season. I mean, they didn't even give Shawn Pyfrom a single scene. They could've at least gotten him to take his top off or something. Sigh. 2.9
Wr: John Pardee & Joey Murphy
Dr: Bethany Rooney
Synopsis: Gabrielle and Carlos attend a family meeting in which they are asked to take care of their niece, Lynette is upset with Tom for his latest "bright idea," Orson threatens to blackmail Bree, and Susan accepts Dave's "friendly" gesture.
Review: 'Everybody Says Don't' fixes some of the problems that have beset Desperate Housewives in the past few weeks, although a number of rather undesirable plot elements still manage to worm their way into the story. The pace finally begins to ramp up as Dave's master plan takes centre stage, which is counter pointed rather nicely with the slowly increasing involvement of the authorities, as they begin to put the pieces together. While the excessively smug attitudes of the two policemen are somewhat lamentable, and their apparent lack of professionalism in the scene with Dr. Heller's secretary is a little baffling (surely they wouldn't discuss their plans for the case in front of a citizen? "Hmm, maybe we should send a text back!" Huh?), it is nevertheless pleasing to see somebody finally obtaining the knowledge that we, as an audience, have harboured for the last six months. The reintroduction of Karen and Roberta to the story is also very welcome, as the comic interplay between the two is always a delight to behold, although the forthcoming incorporation of yet another burglary into the show does seem to betray its struggle with the concept of originality. The trajectory of the plot is a little predictable too: it's practically a given that MJ won't snuff it, so something will have to interrupt Dave's plan. My money's on Mike either finding out that Williams is being pursued by the police for questioning, and therefore contributing to their finding him, or, as is more likely after the suspicious look he gives Dave at episode's end, on him deciding to watch the strictly verboten 'band' video tape before he goes on his honeymoon which, obviously, would reveal the entire plan to him and send him running right after the fishing trio with a shotgun in his hand.
Let's face it guys, this is utterly ridiculous. Sure, it makes a semblance of sense that Dave would try to explain his reasoning on tape, and it gives us a deliciously menacing opening scene (credit to Neal McDonough for some top notch acting), but really, what self-respecting revenge-driven psychopath hands the keys to his secret identity to his victims? Huh? He might as well blurt the entire plan out in Mike's face, while Susan and the little brat are watching, so ludicrously flawed are his actions. What guarantee does he have that Delfino will wait until after his honeymoon with Katherine to watch the tape? Um, precisely none. In fact, what guarantee does he have that the flipping wedding will even go ahead, given how emotionally stunted the whole thing is? A couple of hours or so after MJ, Susan and Dave leave, Mike has a change of heart and whoops! Wedding's off. Time to sit down with a nice cold one in front of the TV and reminisce about the band camaraderie of old. Except... not. Surely it would have made more sense for Dave to keep the tape in his own house so that it can be found when the police inevitably search it? Or, even better, to mail it with a required delivery date? But no, that would be too easy, too logical, too realistic; it couldn't be the crimp in his plan then, the device needed to spark the awareness that is needed to save MJ. Sigh. This is so transparent, it might as well be a deux et machina.
Oh and while we're on the subject, I have such little faith in the Housewives writing staff that I am virtually convinced that this whole storyline is going to be the catalyst for the practically inevitable break-up of Mike and Katherine. Their relationship has been so denigrated in the past few weeks that it seems ludicrous to think they'll actually go through with the incredibly rushed wedding. We've been hit over the head, time and time again, with the notion that there are flaws in their coupling, from the fact that they 'want different things' to Mayfair's oft-irritating insecurity to Mike's apparently rekindled love for Susan bloody Myer. The next logical step seems to be the acknowledgement of these problems, and what's the betting that it will take Mike rushing to his son's aid, to the detriment of his impending marriage (you can bet your bottom dollar that all this will occur during the wedding itself; Housewives is in love with tired clichés, after all), to achieve this? He'll save the day, rescue his family and realise just how much he's missing. Or maybe worry that MJ has no big, strong, manly man around to save him from evil ogres like Dave Williams and therefore vow to 'try to work things out with Susan'. Sigh. I really, really don't want it to happen. I'd love for the show to take us in a completely unexpected direction, to actually have the courage of its convictions and put a permanent stop to the perpetual merry-go-round that is Delfino and Myer's useless waste of a relationship, but I just can't see it happening. Look at the scenes they all have together in this episode, for crying out loud: oh sure, Susan ultimately gives the lovers her 'blessing', demanding to know whether Mike is in love with Katherine before giving the supposed thumbs-up, but you just know it's completely forced. Her initial reaction is the most telling and the writers just couldn't resist loading it with evident disappointment. For God's sake, they can't even give her an attempt at a sincere line of dialogue! "Oh, do we have your blessing Susan?" "Yes, sure, why not?" That's it? Please! Susan Myer, you are hereby presented with the award for Most Insincere Congratulations EVER. And yeah, that's the point but why does it have to be this way? Why couldn't Myer just be over Mike, for crying out loud? Why do we need to walk down this battered and beaten path for the umpteenth time? And as if Susan's lovesick heart wasn't bad enough, Katherine's character is turned into a sorry, whimpering mess when she utters the line "I can make him happy Susan. He just needs to get over you." Please, how pathetic! And then Mike even apologises! To Susan! God!
Thankfully, there are shafts of light in the remaining storylines. While Bree's criminal activity still leaves a bit of a sour taste in the mouth, her exchanges with Karl remain a definite comedy highlight as Richard Burgi proves to be the perfect adolescent foil for Marcia Cross's pristine, self-contained character. It's good to see the cogs turning on the story too as Orson finally obtains the upper hand; the two scenes in which the husband and wife are together are both excellently realised, with some fine, fine acting and sparkling dialogue. Orson's "oh sure we'll have our challenges - your penchant for emasulation, my kleptomania - but every marriage has
its ebs and flows" is a strong candidate for best line of the year. Lynette and Tom's storyline actually manages to be somewhat interesting, as the repetitive nature of their 'problems' is finally offset by the inclusion of another character. Granted, Porter's actual involvement turns out to be fairly minimal, but at least it's refreshing to see him, and it leads to a fairly logical development for Tom's character. Pleasingly, the writers don't have him ace the test despite his inebriated state, or find some other way around the problem so that he is able to pursue his dream (or at least not in this episode anyway) but instead, they give Lynette a well-deserved proverbial kick to the stomach. Still, the notion that Tom was given the wrong date for the admissions test, and that it is, like, within a couple of days of his visit, is a bit of an eye-roller. And finally, there's Gaby's story which, once again, is bogged down in the character's irritating selfishness (she is actually teaching her daughter to be mean in her first scene!), but at least something interesting appears to have come from it, something that will actually have an impact on the ongoing narrative instead of simply reinforcing personality traits that we've all become far too accustomed to.
This is something of a difficult episode to rate. While, on the one hand, there are a number of eminently enjoyable elements to the hour, largely centred on narrative developments that push the housewives' respective stories forward in interesting, and not always predictable ways, there are still a great number of frustratingly ill-conceived tropes that cause the eyes to roll. Sure, we've got some excellent individual scenes, providing the cast with an opportunity to demonstrate their considerable acting chops, but they don't always manage to offset the bitter taste provided by problematic elements such as 'the ballad of Mike and Susan' or Dave's ridiculous tape recording. Heading into the finale, there is much promise but sadly, there is much to dread too, as the narrative trajectory seems to be heading in some very, very lamentable directions. Still, the writing staff have another forty five minutes to pull their fingers out of their asses and surprise us all. Let's hope they rise to the challenge. 6.9
524: 'If It's Only in your Head'
Wr: Jeffrey Richman
Dr: David Goldman
Synopsis: Lynette adapts to Tom's decision to go back to school, Orson takes a beating that Bree cannot comprehend, Gabrielle's niece (guest star Maiara Walsh) moves to Wisteria Lane, and Susan and MJ's lives are in grave danger at the hands of Dave.
Review: 'If It's Only In Your Head' is an unconscionable mess of an episode, a thoroughly horrible anti-climax to what has generally been a good year. Jeffrey Richman's script piles cliché on top of cliche, insulting our intelligence further and further with every turn of the 'predictability-o-meter', until finally, by the time the woefully artificial cliffhanger rears its ugly head, we really just don't care any more. The question of who it is that Mike Delfino has married this time around is undoubtedly supposed to generate some intrigue, keeping us all on tenterhooks for four months, playing guessing games with our buddies. Sadly, all it does is get the eyes rolling. It smells rather pungently like a cop-out, as if the writing staff didn't have the courage of their convictions; they weren't confident enough in their own ability to tell a story (hell, after these past few weeks, why would they be?), so they left the thread dangling, affording them the opportunity to gauge the mood of their audience and, probably, go with what the general consensus is. I'm not exactly hopeful that Katherine will be the one under that veil and, even if she is, the writers have hardly engendered enough trust in their ability to comfortably represent her relationship with Mike to make us believe that the marriage would last. Trust me, if they go this route, within about five or six weeks of the premiere, Myer will worm her way back into their lives, reconstructing the triangle one more flaming time. It's far likelier though, unfortunately, that Mike will be tying the knot with Susan again, continuing the seemingly never ending cycle of their relationship; it's on, it's off, it's on, it's off, it's maybe on, it's definitely off. No wait, it's on. God, won't someone put an end to this already? Haven't we suffered enough?
Apparently not, according to Marc Cherry. No, we need to milk this abysmally insipid storyline for all that it's worth... so why not have Mike snog his ex-wife upon finding her safe and sound? Yeah, that's a great idea. That won't cause a entire nation to facepalm themselves, oh no. Sigh. It's really rather insulting that it's the abduction of Susan and MJ that seemingly reignites the old flame; um, inappropriate, much? Surely this storyline should be about Dave and his psychological misfortunes, not about the burning passion that just can't help but smoulder away beneath the stoic fronts put up by this most tortured of couples? Would it really have killed Richman to have simply had Mike be stoked to see that his child wasn't murdered? Instead of providing a comfortable resolution to the season-spanning story, this took the wind out of its sails, demonstrating that no matter how disparate the plot, Desperate Housewives will always come back to the never-ending ballad of Delfino and Myer. How utterly, utterly depressing. Oh and just to make matters worse, the writing staff continue to drag Katherine down into this thematic quagmire too, turning her into an irritatingly jealous bunny boiler. When they are in the airport, waiting to travel to Vegas, Mike calls Susan to make sure his kid is okay, after having had a 'funny feeling' about Dave when he left them. Fair enough, you might think... but not to Katherine, oh no. She has a hissy fit about the fact that he's talking to his ex-wife, when it's their 'special day'. Well, who hasn't seen that one coming for about four weeks, huh? When Delfino says, "are we really going to do this again?", it's as if is tuned into the minds of the show's viewership, regurgitating exactly what we're thinking. Now sure, this is followed up with some reassurance and a seemingly sincere declaration, but when you take all that subsequently happens with Susan into consideration, it doesn't seem like there's much hope for this particular narrative trope, does there? This is just Ian, Susan's British ex, all over again; Katherine is effectively a stop-gap in Mike and Susan's pursuit of true love, a way of keeping them apart for the duration of the season, so that they can be reunited again at the very end. It's trite, it's useless and above all else, it's boring. Change the record Desperate Housewives, we've well and truly had enough.
The crap don't stop there mind, oh no. Richman's script just keeps churning it out, as if categorically unable to grasp the most basic tenants of storytelling. As we all expected after watching 'Everybody Says Don't', it is Dave's utterly ridiculous decision to hand Mike a confessional tape that springs our heroes into action and ultimately saves the day. As if the fact that Delfino receives the thing before the deed has been done isn't unbelievable enough, we have to swallow the fact that Katherine would just so happen to pick this exact tape up from the drawer when Mike mentions that there are old ones in there, even though it is actually marked with the word 'band' and none of the others have any markings, and then we are expected to believe that Katherine's bag 'knocking' the thing when it's in the camcorder is what allows Mike to see it in time. Talk about your clichés. Mind, all this pales in comparison to his subsequent actions. How very convenient to the 'ballad of Mike and Susan' that the guy can't find Katherine when he needs to, when all she's done is gone to get a coffee. Where the hell could she be? How far could she go in ten seconds? As if this isn't bad enough, his decision to tell the nearest person to speak to his girlfriend, to tell her he has to leave because 'it is an emergency', is so transparent, it's unreal. The viewer knows exactly how it will play out and sure enough, it does, in all its agonisingly irritating glory. With Mike gone, straight after having been confronted by Katherine as to whether he truly loves her or not, it seems to Mayfair like he has bailed! And then, the elderly lady fails to mention the rather crucial nugget of information about his departure being 'an emergency'; instead, she just says he had to leave! Well, how about that, eh? It plants further doubt in Katherine's mind, strengthening her belief that things aren't working out between the two of them. It seems that he doesn't even call her either, which is what any sane individual would do, right after they've dialled their ex-wife and the cops. This is all supposed to be an unfortunate turn of events, circumstances that conspire against the actualisation of a relationship, but in reality, it's a bunch of artificial, ill-conceived narrative beats that help to guide a worthless story to its tiresome conclusion.
Arguably, the same can be said of the confrontation itself, which is also fraught with plot holes. For starters, we have Dave pointing a gun at Susan, directly in MJ's line of vision. He certainly doesn't do a good job of disguising his intentions: if the kid moved to his right, or leaned forward a little to speak to his mommy, he'd be able to see exactly what the guy's doing! Then we have Mike's oh-so-convenient sojourn down Route 12, which just so happens to lead to the exact spot where Susan careered into the Dashes three years ago. This certainly doesn't seem to have been Dave's plan all along, as he looks genuinely surprised when Mike tells him where he is, and there has been talk of 'an accident at the lake' during the fishing trip. No, it's just another marvellous coincidence, another fortunate happenstance in this most trite of narratives! Kinda like Delfino's timely memory loss, his drawing a blank at the mention of the road where the fateful accident occurred. Erm, colour me unconvinced but surely you don't forget even the slightest of details about such catastrophic events, events that actually change your life? Hell, Susan's ears prick up as soon as Dave blurts out the words but her ex-husband? Nah, he doesn't bat an eyelid. If he did, you see, he'd probably cotton on to Dash's plan, thereby denying us the 'big action sequence' (read 'minor car crash') that we're all just dying to see! Groan. As if this isn't bad enough, when the collision does occur, Mike picks himself up, dusts himself down and walks away with barely a scratch on him! How fortunate! And, more bafflingly, Dave actually chickens out at the last moment, saving MJ from certain doom. I'm sorry, but I have a very hard time buying this one, especially after the lengths that the writers have gone to for the entire season to show just how far the man will go to get his revenge. It's the only thing that drives him, for crying out loud, and now, after a few words from Susan and a timely psychological vision of his dead daughter, he bails? Now? When his plan is almost complete? Just at the right moment to make everything a-ok for our protagonists? Yeah, well, now that I think about it, it does seem about right. Convenience wins out over believability once again and the audience is left batting their heads off the nearest brick wall.
Okay, so the season-spanning story has the wind taken out of its sails and, in the end, it falls a little flat. Surely there must be some worth in the other narratives that pepper the hour? Right? Wrong. Gaby's story sees the writing staff treading on familiar ground yet again, except this time they've got a pretty new character to launch head-first into the mix. In Ana, we have another one-dimensional, manipulative cipher, one of American television's most popular representations of the 'teenager', entirely unlikeable and seemingly only there to drive another pointless wedge between Carlos and Gaby. When he doesn't side with his wife here, the conflict feels manufactured rather than organic, especially considering that her argument is pretty darn valid. Still, at least this isn't as bad as Bree's story which plumes whole new depths of ridiculousness with her affair with Karl. Come. On. Give me a sodding break. It's been apparent from the moment the two entered into business that she loathes the man, and given his sordid past with both Susan and Edie, she has every right to. Of all the women on Wysteria Lane, Bree Hodge is the least likely to ever start a fling with someone so utterly reprehensible and no, that doesn't mean it makes the plot development innovative and interesting. It makes it unbelievable and forced, a classic case of adapting character to fit narrative, which hardly makes for organic storytelling. Desperate Housewives proves that even it isn't safe from the old cliche that 'a [heterosexual] man and a [heterosexual] woman just can't be friends', which is one of the most infuriating conceits still prevalent in television. Still, at least there's Lynette's story. That's got to be the saving grace right? Think again buster. What do we have here? A pregnancy! Never done that one before! When she says, "we're having twins... again" in such an incredibly despondent voice, it accurately sums up the feeling of the story: we've been there, done that and we really don't need to see it again. This seems to put the brakes on Tom's desire to go to college which looked set to give the Scavos something interesting to do for once. But we couldn't have that, could we? In fact, we couldn't even have it turn into an abortion storyline, which is where my overly-optimistic mind thought it might be going. Nope, in the 'two months later' segment, Lynette's off being sick, indicating that yeah, those babes are still in there, just ready and waiting to come kicking and screaming out and give the family another few years of irritating 'you stay at home, I'll get a job', 'no, you stay at home, I'll get a job' narrative beats. Deary, deary me.
'If It's Only In Your Head' manages to completely botch all of the promise of its predecessor, 'Everybody Says Don't', and that really is no small feat. Jeffrey Richman's script slowly, and mercilessly, beats each housewife's respective story into the ground, one at a time, until all we're left with is a scrap of fine acting here and a shard of witty dialogue there. There really is very little to like about the episode: the central drama is bogged down in cliche and predictability, Mike and Katherine's impending wedding turns out like everyone with a single functioning brain cell expected that it would, and the B and C storylines feel pointless and tired and even when they're attempting to be original, as in Bree's narrative, they fail hopelessly, feeling contrived instead of believable. By the time the cliffhanger rolls around, it's difficult to give a rat's and that really isn't what the show needs right now. Frankly, this writer couldn't be any less interested in seeing a sixth season. I mean, they didn't even give Shawn Pyfrom a single scene. They could've at least gotten him to take his top off or something. Sigh. 2.9
Sunday 17 May 2009
Album review: Single File: 'Common Struggles'
Single File: 'Common Struggles' (Reprise)
Single File play a very dangerous game. The Colorado three-piece deal in the kind of monochromatic teen angst that gets bands laughed off the stage, accused of being self-obsessed and whiny, and told to come back in a few years when they’ve grown a pair. Their début album, ‘Common Struggles’, isn’t the most thematically complex of records: what we have here are eleven slabs of adolescent navel-gazing, paeans to love lost and spurned, with the occasional psuedo-existential quandary thrown in for good measure. When Sloan Anderson sings ‘everything I build falls apart’ on the maudlin ‘Blue Sky Happiness’, or counterpoints being ‘sad about a girl’ on opener ‘Mannequin Loveseat’ with the lines ‘I’m always a pleasure to be with/And the pleasure’s always mine’, the most tempting response is, “yeah, well, get over yourself mate”. Quit masturbating over your problems, open the door to your room and get outside. It might do you some good.
Fortunately, this isn’t the whole picture. What ‘Common Struggles’ lacks in lyrical variety, it makes up for in its explorative musical palate. In a similar vein to their peers (Saves the Day, the Get Up Kids, Motion City Soundtrack), the band offset their despondent subject matter with an upbeat, poppy sound that takes the edge off some of the clichés. There are clicking fingers (‘Pizzagirl’), clapping hands (‘Girlfriends’) and whistling lips (um, ‘Girlfriends’ again) to be found alongside the sometimes grungy, sometimes summery guitars, giving the music a decidedly playful feel. The band’s swing-jazz past – yes, you read that right – shines through too, in the funky bass lines that drive ‘Miss Cherry Lipgloss’ and ‘Melody of You’. And then there’s their expert grasp of melody. Every track could be released as a single; so insanely catchy are the choruses. After a few listens, you’ll have all of the words of album highlight ‘Zombies Ate My Neighbours’ down to a tee. These guys certainly know how to get your feet tapping, no matter how much you may want to resist.
Sure, ‘Common Struggles’ isn’t going to win any awards for lyrical innovation. This is an unashamedly adolescent album that wears its lovesick, tormented heart on its snot-drenched sleeve. At times, this threatens to irritate but thankfully, there’s enough vocal and musical flair to keep things interesting. Single File may not be in the same league as their peers yet, but just give them time. Oh, and a dictionary: ‘irregardless’ is not a word, guys. Tsk tsk. 7/10
Single File play a very dangerous game. The Colorado three-piece deal in the kind of monochromatic teen angst that gets bands laughed off the stage, accused of being self-obsessed and whiny, and told to come back in a few years when they’ve grown a pair. Their début album, ‘Common Struggles’, isn’t the most thematically complex of records: what we have here are eleven slabs of adolescent navel-gazing, paeans to love lost and spurned, with the occasional psuedo-existential quandary thrown in for good measure. When Sloan Anderson sings ‘everything I build falls apart’ on the maudlin ‘Blue Sky Happiness’, or counterpoints being ‘sad about a girl’ on opener ‘Mannequin Loveseat’ with the lines ‘I’m always a pleasure to be with/And the pleasure’s always mine’, the most tempting response is, “yeah, well, get over yourself mate”. Quit masturbating over your problems, open the door to your room and get outside. It might do you some good.
Fortunately, this isn’t the whole picture. What ‘Common Struggles’ lacks in lyrical variety, it makes up for in its explorative musical palate. In a similar vein to their peers (Saves the Day, the Get Up Kids, Motion City Soundtrack), the band offset their despondent subject matter with an upbeat, poppy sound that takes the edge off some of the clichés. There are clicking fingers (‘Pizzagirl’), clapping hands (‘Girlfriends’) and whistling lips (um, ‘Girlfriends’ again) to be found alongside the sometimes grungy, sometimes summery guitars, giving the music a decidedly playful feel. The band’s swing-jazz past – yes, you read that right – shines through too, in the funky bass lines that drive ‘Miss Cherry Lipgloss’ and ‘Melody of You’. And then there’s their expert grasp of melody. Every track could be released as a single; so insanely catchy are the choruses. After a few listens, you’ll have all of the words of album highlight ‘Zombies Ate My Neighbours’ down to a tee. These guys certainly know how to get your feet tapping, no matter how much you may want to resist.
Sure, ‘Common Struggles’ isn’t going to win any awards for lyrical innovation. This is an unashamedly adolescent album that wears its lovesick, tormented heart on its snot-drenched sleeve. At times, this threatens to irritate but thankfully, there’s enough vocal and musical flair to keep things interesting. Single File may not be in the same league as their peers yet, but just give them time. Oh, and a dictionary: ‘irregardless’ is not a word, guys. Tsk tsk. 7/10
Saturday 16 May 2009
Review: Prison Break series finale (#421: 'Rate of Exchange'/#422: 'Killing Your Number')
421: 'Rate of Exchange'
Wr: Zack Estrin
Dr: Bobby Roth
Synopsis: Familiar faces turn up as Michael tries to take down the Company.
Review: Prison Break has a mere two hours to go to satisfactorily tie up its disparate loose ends and rescue itself from the brink of disaster; since its return early last month, the show has struggled to keep itself afloat, passing Scylla around from person to person, forming détentes and breaking them minutes later, and generally sending everyone on wild goose chases, running around the streets of Miami with virtually no rhyme or reason. While last week's instalment saw things improve slightly, it still had its fair share of problems. Unfortunately, these aren't completely ironed out in 'Rate of Exchange', but the upward trend certainly continues. Zack Estrin's script has a distinctly solid structure that grounds it in the sort of intense dramatic tension that made the series successful in the first place. The narrative begins in duality, juxtaposing Sarah's kidnap by Bagwell and the General with Christina's holding of Lincoln, but weaves the two together with Michael as the common thread. This dilemma is an incredibly palatable one, giving the plot considerable weight because it tugs at the heartstrings; after all, we care substantially about these characters. Furthermore, given how irreconcilable it appears that the situation is, and the fact that we are approaching the programme's absolute end-game, a certain level of unpredictability is created. Just about anything can happen now; there are no contractual constraints or ratings considerations to take into account. As Bagwell creeps lasciviously around Sarah, we believe that he might just get his way; when Christina jams her high heel into Lincoln's badly injured stomach (a wonderfully graphic moment, by the way), we buy into the notion that she might get to see her adopted son join the choir invisible.
Estrin builds upon this already palpable level of suspense with the inclusion of several two-hander character scenes that address certain psychological considerations. Michael's confrontation of Mahone, in particular, works exceptionally well, calling out Alex's tendency to 'play the field', and his subsequent redressing of the balance by agreeing to assist Scofield, while a little transparent (c'mon... who didn't see right through that double cross for the triple cross that it really is?), gives the issue a satisfying pay off. T-Bag's perverted 'foreplay' with Tencredi is also superbly written, becoming progressively eerier and more troublesome with every word, although it is rather difficult to believe that he would spend such a lengthy amount of time talking about what he's going to do to her rather than actually doing it; a plot decision that ultimately allows for Michael to rescue his girlfriend. Um, convenient, much? And then there's C-Note and Sucre, whose miraculous inclusion in the story just as things are coming to an end actually manages to work. There's a logic to the events that C-Note describes and when we hear that the name of their benefactor is Paul, and catch a glimpse of 'the ring', it seems to confirm that old favourite Kellerman is responsible for the reunion... but we'll reserve judgement on that until it's confirmed. Anyway, this looks set to only intensify an already substantial level of tension in the impending finale and, at the end of the day, it means we all get to salivate over Amaury Nolasco's hot ass a few more times before the end. Yum yum yum.
(Let's pause for a second to briefly consider that butt, huh?
Delectable.)
The episode's remaining two/three-handers don't work quite so well, however. The inclusion of Don Self just seems like an exercise in futility, as if the episode under-ran and so the writers plugged the gaps with whatever pointless gumf they could find. Oh sure, Michael Rapaport is excellent as usual, perfectly conveying the character's smarmy self-centeredness, but his scenes serve no essential purpose other than to let the outstanding William Mapother, of Lost fame, in on the fun for a little while. The Homeland Security agents get nothing out of the guy, so any pursuit of Linc and Michael by the long arm of the law is not advanced by this strand of the plot, and ultimately, Christina's lackey shows up and kills him. Well, colour me indignant but would it not have been far easier, and more believable, to have him die from the injuries that would be sustained by jumping out of a really rather tall building? And then, of course, we have Christina, who just becomes more and more laughable with every passing line of dialogue. If she isn't mawkishly beating Lincoln's self-esteem into the ground with lame lines like, "the dumb one got caught, the smart one got away, I'm beginning to see a pattern", she's completely abandoning her strong, collected nature and gesticulating all over the place, pulling the kind of face that a six year old would respond with if you asked them to 'look angry'.
Kathleen Quinlan seems to have let all semblance of credibility fall by the wayside, choosing instead to portray this most sinister and duplicitous of women as a sort of comic book villain, complete with every cliché in the depressingly well-worn book. She spits her dummy out when things aren't going her way, knocking everything off her desk and screaming "you just cost me 3/4 of a billion dollars!" at Linc in the most ridiculously over-the-top manner possible. It's hard to invest in the legitimacy of her threat to the survival of our heroes when you just want to laugh at her. And as if Quinlan's portrayal wasn't problematic enough, certain elements of her story also cause the eyes to roll, particularly the fact that she has people everywhere who can fix things at the drop of a hat (yes, I know she has significant Company connections but come on, finding Self, 'securing Pam'... this is all just too easy), and that, in the pre-credits sequence, when she's engaged in the stand off with Michael, she walks right up to the tripwire but doesn't make the additional step into it, despite being clueless as to its presence, which is just about the most cliched thing I've seen all year.
While it certainly has its problems, 'Rate of Exchange' is, nevertheless, a decidedly enjoyable episode. As Prison Break's penultimate hour, it succeeds in ramping up the tension, taking the stakes about as high as they can go, and keeping the viewer engaged in Michael's very palpable plight for the duration of its forty five minutes. There are some wonderfully written exchanges between characters, several decidedly intense moments and even the reintroduction of a few familiar faces to boot. It's far from perfect - Kathleen Quinlan's ludicrously hammy portrayal of Christina makes certain of that - but hell, at least it isn't 'The Mother Lode'. 7.1
422: 'Killing Your Number'
Wr: Matt Olmstead & Nicholas Wootton
Dr: Kevin Hooks
Synopsis: Michael makes one final attempt to get Scylla and destroy the Company.
Review: Okay, let's get one thing straight before we begin: despite its occasional cheesiness, the 'four years later' segment of Prison Break's swan song is a very brave and satisfying piece. The five minutes at the end of the episode provide a sorrowful, but logical, adjunct to this most troubled of shows. Michael's death certainly tugs at the heartstrings, and it's made all the more potent by the lack of a single tear, or mournful word, from any of the cast members involved. For once, the show's writing staff actually have the courage of their convictions, making a bold decision and not retracting it moments later; although, arguably, the fact that it takes the very last scene of the very last episode for them to manage this is eye-rolling enough in itself. Still, no point in rubbishing the best thing about 'Killing Your Number', even if those hilariously clichéd glances at the sky from C-Note, Bagwell and just about everybody else involved in the montage really make you want to throw things at your television screen. No, we should savour the writers' success, celebrate the fact that by taking the road less travelled, by giving us a happy ending with an asterisk, one that is flavoured with a sprinkling of melancholy, they make the final moments a truly rewarding experience. There sure isn't much else worth savouring, that's for sure.
Let's face it, Olmstead and Wootton's script is a mess. It lacks the kind of focused narrative structure that allowed the previous episode, Zack Estrin's 'Rate of Exchange', to engage the viewer's interest. Instead of channelling the story through a single entity with a single goal, who finds his loyalties conflicted, 'Killing Your Number' resorts to Prison Break's favourite tactic in recent memory: letting everyone run around like a bunch of headless chickens, chasing each other from one end of Miami to the other, all in the name of retrieving Scylla or saving the world or whatever other worthless garbage passes for motivation in this gigantic hotchpotch of a plot. The narrative feels exactly like what it is: a series of stop-gaps on the way to running into Kellerman, where everyone with a vested interest in the 'world-changing' device gets a chance to have the upper-hand, see it taken away and then try to reclaim it again. The problem, essentially, is that there is no substance to events, no real consequence to anything that happens (well, until about thirty minutes in, that is). Significant developments occur but they are resolved within seconds, cast aside in favour of the next spectacle which, predictably, will have minimal impact on anyone or anything. Take the cliffhanger from 'Rate of Exchange' as an example: the detonator was seen counting down from 19 seconds and then, at the beginning of this episode, Mahone is given a throwaway piece of dialogue that indicates that it has 'failed'. Huh? We don't even get to see it? However, instead of this leading to a struggle to escape from the dastardly clutches of Christina, Mahone is able to magically karate chop and kung fu kick (any King Blues fans read these reviews? No? Reference lost then...) his way out of certain death, tamper with the device a bit and leap completely out of harm's way, along with a seriously ill Lincoln, before the thing explodes right there, in the office. Realism? Just what is that, exactly?
Oh, and it's only natural that Christina manages to survive the blast. We couldn't kill her off at the ten minute mark, that wouldn't be dramatic enough. No, she needs to pick herself up and dust herself down, shaking the flames, bruises and second or third degree burns off herself in the process, so that she's fit and well enough to go mindlessly chasing after Michael in her high heels. And then, when she does meet her maker, in a confrontation that's straight out of 'Trite Espionage 101', she manages to utter the single most horrible line of the entire 2008/09 season when she bleats, "you were born a Scofield, but you'll die a Burrows". Oh please. Hand me the sick bucket, I think I'm about to regurgitate my internal organs. Speaking of objectionable dalliances with death, the fact that Self manages to survive his second brush with the Grim Reaper in as many weeks is just ridiculous. Surely Christina's lackeys would be able to quickly put an end to the man when they have such easy access to the hospital? And the idea that they deliberately paralysed, rather than executed, him doesn't make any sense; why risk him still being able to write and therefore communicate with others? What benefit is there in keeping him alive in any shape or form? None whatsoever and frankly, there's no point in this element of the story either. It's utterly redundant time-filler that is of little interest to the audience. In the end, it seems that its only purpose is to provide the plot with a thoroughly contrived way of uniting Ethan, sorry William Mapother, and his fellow Homeland Security agent with Mahone and Sucre (oh come on, they just so happen to go to the same hospital AND see each other?), thereby throwing another curveball in the direction of our protagonists so that the race to Kellerman can be littered still further with difficulty.
Speaking of Kellerman, what a deux et machina this is, eh? Prison Break retcons itself again with a horribly throwaway piece of dialogue that is supposed to explain his miraculous return from the dead but actually just makes his entire story all the more objectionable. He was 'rescued' by the same organisation that was helping Michael and Linc's dad overthrow the Company? How long is it since we've seen those dudes, huh? What the hell have they been doing all this time? Why haven't they been in contact earlier? When Michael raises this very legitimate concern, he is simply brushed off which, rather than being an organic piece of scripting, is just an easy way around a very icky plot hole. Look, the brothers' benefactor manage to arrive just in the nick of time! He's even got a nondescript, barely-explained UN attaché with him who can magically exonerate everyone of everything they have ever done at the push of a button! Well, how's that for timing, huh? Please. This truly is pathetic, stretching so far beyond the realms of credibility, it doesn't even bear thinking about.
Frustratingly, this penchant for having the most convenient of events occur 'just in the nick of time' runs rampant throughout the episode. When the General confronts Bagwell in the wake of Sarah's kidnap, he places a gun to the guy's head, apparently ready to put an end to him... but just before he can pull that tricksy trigger, Sucre calls Sarah's phone! He's quite literally saved by the bell, with the call containing just the leverage that T-Bag needs to dodge the General's bullet! Sigh. Later, when the General shows Sofia to Lincoln, live and in glorious technicolour from Panama, just as the brothers need to make the fatal decision between her life and the delivering of Scylla, the very second that Krantz demands their answer, Fernando and C-Note storm the Bastille and manage to turn the tables within seconds, giving Michael and Linc just what they need to overcome the situation! Groan. (Oh and as an aside, where is LJ in all of this? Not only would it have been nice to see Marshall Allman again because, you know, he's worth salivating over and that, but wasn't he being looked after by Sofia? Wouldn't it have been advantageous to the Company to use both of them as leverage?) And then there's General Krantz's remarkable escape from the handcuffs he's been placed in by our protagonists which, as if to add insult to injury, is then supplemented with the sudden arrival of the cops... just as he's about to leave the building, right before he can make his escape! These occurrences are so far beyond believable that it's insulting.
Instead of treating us with a modicum of intelligence, Prison Break's writing staff seem to think that we are willing to simply switch off our common sense when watching the show, turning into a bunch of catatonic vessels for their lazily written, useless claptrap. Well sorry guys but it just doesn't wash, especially when it's the final hour, when you should be distilling everything that the show's about, what made it such a resounding success in the first place, not hastily cobbling together the kind of overly-convenient, hole-ridden story that would embarrass a primary school pupil. 'Killing Your Number' manages to be a fitting conclusion to the programme's final run of episodes, containing all the problems that it's been fraught by since Don Self's turn in 'Selfless', but as the closing instalment of the show altogether, it fails spectacularly. There is very little here of the Prison Break that roped us all in in season one, that beguiled us in season two and even, that reignited our interest and emboldened our faith in the first half of this year. While the final five minutes seem to stay true to its spirit, the remainder is just a hopeless mess, a pointless run around marred by a series of howling deux et machinas. Thank God it's been put of its misery before it could get any worse. 4.2
Wr: Zack Estrin
Dr: Bobby Roth
Synopsis: Familiar faces turn up as Michael tries to take down the Company.
Review: Prison Break has a mere two hours to go to satisfactorily tie up its disparate loose ends and rescue itself from the brink of disaster; since its return early last month, the show has struggled to keep itself afloat, passing Scylla around from person to person, forming détentes and breaking them minutes later, and generally sending everyone on wild goose chases, running around the streets of Miami with virtually no rhyme or reason. While last week's instalment saw things improve slightly, it still had its fair share of problems. Unfortunately, these aren't completely ironed out in 'Rate of Exchange', but the upward trend certainly continues. Zack Estrin's script has a distinctly solid structure that grounds it in the sort of intense dramatic tension that made the series successful in the first place. The narrative begins in duality, juxtaposing Sarah's kidnap by Bagwell and the General with Christina's holding of Lincoln, but weaves the two together with Michael as the common thread. This dilemma is an incredibly palatable one, giving the plot considerable weight because it tugs at the heartstrings; after all, we care substantially about these characters. Furthermore, given how irreconcilable it appears that the situation is, and the fact that we are approaching the programme's absolute end-game, a certain level of unpredictability is created. Just about anything can happen now; there are no contractual constraints or ratings considerations to take into account. As Bagwell creeps lasciviously around Sarah, we believe that he might just get his way; when Christina jams her high heel into Lincoln's badly injured stomach (a wonderfully graphic moment, by the way), we buy into the notion that she might get to see her adopted son join the choir invisible.
Estrin builds upon this already palpable level of suspense with the inclusion of several two-hander character scenes that address certain psychological considerations. Michael's confrontation of Mahone, in particular, works exceptionally well, calling out Alex's tendency to 'play the field', and his subsequent redressing of the balance by agreeing to assist Scofield, while a little transparent (c'mon... who didn't see right through that double cross for the triple cross that it really is?), gives the issue a satisfying pay off. T-Bag's perverted 'foreplay' with Tencredi is also superbly written, becoming progressively eerier and more troublesome with every word, although it is rather difficult to believe that he would spend such a lengthy amount of time talking about what he's going to do to her rather than actually doing it; a plot decision that ultimately allows for Michael to rescue his girlfriend. Um, convenient, much? And then there's C-Note and Sucre, whose miraculous inclusion in the story just as things are coming to an end actually manages to work. There's a logic to the events that C-Note describes and when we hear that the name of their benefactor is Paul, and catch a glimpse of 'the ring', it seems to confirm that old favourite Kellerman is responsible for the reunion... but we'll reserve judgement on that until it's confirmed. Anyway, this looks set to only intensify an already substantial level of tension in the impending finale and, at the end of the day, it means we all get to salivate over Amaury Nolasco's hot ass a few more times before the end. Yum yum yum.
(Let's pause for a second to briefly consider that butt, huh?
Delectable.)
The episode's remaining two/three-handers don't work quite so well, however. The inclusion of Don Self just seems like an exercise in futility, as if the episode under-ran and so the writers plugged the gaps with whatever pointless gumf they could find. Oh sure, Michael Rapaport is excellent as usual, perfectly conveying the character's smarmy self-centeredness, but his scenes serve no essential purpose other than to let the outstanding William Mapother, of Lost fame, in on the fun for a little while. The Homeland Security agents get nothing out of the guy, so any pursuit of Linc and Michael by the long arm of the law is not advanced by this strand of the plot, and ultimately, Christina's lackey shows up and kills him. Well, colour me indignant but would it not have been far easier, and more believable, to have him die from the injuries that would be sustained by jumping out of a really rather tall building? And then, of course, we have Christina, who just becomes more and more laughable with every passing line of dialogue. If she isn't mawkishly beating Lincoln's self-esteem into the ground with lame lines like, "the dumb one got caught, the smart one got away, I'm beginning to see a pattern", she's completely abandoning her strong, collected nature and gesticulating all over the place, pulling the kind of face that a six year old would respond with if you asked them to 'look angry'.
Kathleen Quinlan seems to have let all semblance of credibility fall by the wayside, choosing instead to portray this most sinister and duplicitous of women as a sort of comic book villain, complete with every cliché in the depressingly well-worn book. She spits her dummy out when things aren't going her way, knocking everything off her desk and screaming "you just cost me 3/4 of a billion dollars!" at Linc in the most ridiculously over-the-top manner possible. It's hard to invest in the legitimacy of her threat to the survival of our heroes when you just want to laugh at her. And as if Quinlan's portrayal wasn't problematic enough, certain elements of her story also cause the eyes to roll, particularly the fact that she has people everywhere who can fix things at the drop of a hat (yes, I know she has significant Company connections but come on, finding Self, 'securing Pam'... this is all just too easy), and that, in the pre-credits sequence, when she's engaged in the stand off with Michael, she walks right up to the tripwire but doesn't make the additional step into it, despite being clueless as to its presence, which is just about the most cliched thing I've seen all year.
While it certainly has its problems, 'Rate of Exchange' is, nevertheless, a decidedly enjoyable episode. As Prison Break's penultimate hour, it succeeds in ramping up the tension, taking the stakes about as high as they can go, and keeping the viewer engaged in Michael's very palpable plight for the duration of its forty five minutes. There are some wonderfully written exchanges between characters, several decidedly intense moments and even the reintroduction of a few familiar faces to boot. It's far from perfect - Kathleen Quinlan's ludicrously hammy portrayal of Christina makes certain of that - but hell, at least it isn't 'The Mother Lode'. 7.1
422: 'Killing Your Number'
Wr: Matt Olmstead & Nicholas Wootton
Dr: Kevin Hooks
Synopsis: Michael makes one final attempt to get Scylla and destroy the Company.
Review: Okay, let's get one thing straight before we begin: despite its occasional cheesiness, the 'four years later' segment of Prison Break's swan song is a very brave and satisfying piece. The five minutes at the end of the episode provide a sorrowful, but logical, adjunct to this most troubled of shows. Michael's death certainly tugs at the heartstrings, and it's made all the more potent by the lack of a single tear, or mournful word, from any of the cast members involved. For once, the show's writing staff actually have the courage of their convictions, making a bold decision and not retracting it moments later; although, arguably, the fact that it takes the very last scene of the very last episode for them to manage this is eye-rolling enough in itself. Still, no point in rubbishing the best thing about 'Killing Your Number', even if those hilariously clichéd glances at the sky from C-Note, Bagwell and just about everybody else involved in the montage really make you want to throw things at your television screen. No, we should savour the writers' success, celebrate the fact that by taking the road less travelled, by giving us a happy ending with an asterisk, one that is flavoured with a sprinkling of melancholy, they make the final moments a truly rewarding experience. There sure isn't much else worth savouring, that's for sure.
Let's face it, Olmstead and Wootton's script is a mess. It lacks the kind of focused narrative structure that allowed the previous episode, Zack Estrin's 'Rate of Exchange', to engage the viewer's interest. Instead of channelling the story through a single entity with a single goal, who finds his loyalties conflicted, 'Killing Your Number' resorts to Prison Break's favourite tactic in recent memory: letting everyone run around like a bunch of headless chickens, chasing each other from one end of Miami to the other, all in the name of retrieving Scylla or saving the world or whatever other worthless garbage passes for motivation in this gigantic hotchpotch of a plot. The narrative feels exactly like what it is: a series of stop-gaps on the way to running into Kellerman, where everyone with a vested interest in the 'world-changing' device gets a chance to have the upper-hand, see it taken away and then try to reclaim it again. The problem, essentially, is that there is no substance to events, no real consequence to anything that happens (well, until about thirty minutes in, that is). Significant developments occur but they are resolved within seconds, cast aside in favour of the next spectacle which, predictably, will have minimal impact on anyone or anything. Take the cliffhanger from 'Rate of Exchange' as an example: the detonator was seen counting down from 19 seconds and then, at the beginning of this episode, Mahone is given a throwaway piece of dialogue that indicates that it has 'failed'. Huh? We don't even get to see it? However, instead of this leading to a struggle to escape from the dastardly clutches of Christina, Mahone is able to magically karate chop and kung fu kick (any King Blues fans read these reviews? No? Reference lost then...) his way out of certain death, tamper with the device a bit and leap completely out of harm's way, along with a seriously ill Lincoln, before the thing explodes right there, in the office. Realism? Just what is that, exactly?
Oh, and it's only natural that Christina manages to survive the blast. We couldn't kill her off at the ten minute mark, that wouldn't be dramatic enough. No, she needs to pick herself up and dust herself down, shaking the flames, bruises and second or third degree burns off herself in the process, so that she's fit and well enough to go mindlessly chasing after Michael in her high heels. And then, when she does meet her maker, in a confrontation that's straight out of 'Trite Espionage 101', she manages to utter the single most horrible line of the entire 2008/09 season when she bleats, "you were born a Scofield, but you'll die a Burrows". Oh please. Hand me the sick bucket, I think I'm about to regurgitate my internal organs. Speaking of objectionable dalliances with death, the fact that Self manages to survive his second brush with the Grim Reaper in as many weeks is just ridiculous. Surely Christina's lackeys would be able to quickly put an end to the man when they have such easy access to the hospital? And the idea that they deliberately paralysed, rather than executed, him doesn't make any sense; why risk him still being able to write and therefore communicate with others? What benefit is there in keeping him alive in any shape or form? None whatsoever and frankly, there's no point in this element of the story either. It's utterly redundant time-filler that is of little interest to the audience. In the end, it seems that its only purpose is to provide the plot with a thoroughly contrived way of uniting Ethan, sorry William Mapother, and his fellow Homeland Security agent with Mahone and Sucre (oh come on, they just so happen to go to the same hospital AND see each other?), thereby throwing another curveball in the direction of our protagonists so that the race to Kellerman can be littered still further with difficulty.
Speaking of Kellerman, what a deux et machina this is, eh? Prison Break retcons itself again with a horribly throwaway piece of dialogue that is supposed to explain his miraculous return from the dead but actually just makes his entire story all the more objectionable. He was 'rescued' by the same organisation that was helping Michael and Linc's dad overthrow the Company? How long is it since we've seen those dudes, huh? What the hell have they been doing all this time? Why haven't they been in contact earlier? When Michael raises this very legitimate concern, he is simply brushed off which, rather than being an organic piece of scripting, is just an easy way around a very icky plot hole. Look, the brothers' benefactor manage to arrive just in the nick of time! He's even got a nondescript, barely-explained UN attaché with him who can magically exonerate everyone of everything they have ever done at the push of a button! Well, how's that for timing, huh? Please. This truly is pathetic, stretching so far beyond the realms of credibility, it doesn't even bear thinking about.
Frustratingly, this penchant for having the most convenient of events occur 'just in the nick of time' runs rampant throughout the episode. When the General confronts Bagwell in the wake of Sarah's kidnap, he places a gun to the guy's head, apparently ready to put an end to him... but just before he can pull that tricksy trigger, Sucre calls Sarah's phone! He's quite literally saved by the bell, with the call containing just the leverage that T-Bag needs to dodge the General's bullet! Sigh. Later, when the General shows Sofia to Lincoln, live and in glorious technicolour from Panama, just as the brothers need to make the fatal decision between her life and the delivering of Scylla, the very second that Krantz demands their answer, Fernando and C-Note storm the Bastille and manage to turn the tables within seconds, giving Michael and Linc just what they need to overcome the situation! Groan. (Oh and as an aside, where is LJ in all of this? Not only would it have been nice to see Marshall Allman again because, you know, he's worth salivating over and that, but wasn't he being looked after by Sofia? Wouldn't it have been advantageous to the Company to use both of them as leverage?) And then there's General Krantz's remarkable escape from the handcuffs he's been placed in by our protagonists which, as if to add insult to injury, is then supplemented with the sudden arrival of the cops... just as he's about to leave the building, right before he can make his escape! These occurrences are so far beyond believable that it's insulting.
Instead of treating us with a modicum of intelligence, Prison Break's writing staff seem to think that we are willing to simply switch off our common sense when watching the show, turning into a bunch of catatonic vessels for their lazily written, useless claptrap. Well sorry guys but it just doesn't wash, especially when it's the final hour, when you should be distilling everything that the show's about, what made it such a resounding success in the first place, not hastily cobbling together the kind of overly-convenient, hole-ridden story that would embarrass a primary school pupil. 'Killing Your Number' manages to be a fitting conclusion to the programme's final run of episodes, containing all the problems that it's been fraught by since Don Self's turn in 'Selfless', but as the closing instalment of the show altogether, it fails spectacularly. There is very little here of the Prison Break that roped us all in in season one, that beguiled us in season two and even, that reignited our interest and emboldened our faith in the first half of this year. While the final five minutes seem to stay true to its spirit, the remainder is just a hopeless mess, a pointless run around marred by a series of howling deux et machinas. Thank God it's been put of its misery before it could get any worse. 4.2
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