Television review: V #101: 'Pilot'

#101: 'Pilot'

Wr: Kenneth Johnson & Scott Peters
Dr: Yves Simoneau

Synopsis: Dozens of UFOs hover in the sky. Anna, the leader of the V's, wants everyone to unite as one and puts her faith in humanity's key element which is devotion. The V's are considered to be a threat; however, they overcome any obstacles thrown at them and become an instant attraction. FBI Counter Terrorist Agent Erica Evans finds a secret hidden beneath the skin of every V. For Chad Decker V, it could make his career sky rocket as a news anchor when he gets to interview Anna, the leader of the V's. Meanwhile, Father Jack questions his faith as he seeks answers outside the church.

Synopsis: A competent start to what looks to be a fairly faithful, yet suitably different, adaptation. Sensibly, Peters and Johnson's script resists the temptation to linger, longingly, on the fateful moment that life changed for every last soul on Earth and, instead, gets on with the business of propelling the narrative forward, manoeuvring a number of seemingly disparate characters into position such that they unite in their efforts to form a resistance to the duplicitous Visitors. This gives the episode a sense of purpose, a momentum that would otherwise have been lacking had the production crew chosen to waste their time whacking off over their suitably gargantuan effects budget. We do get a delightfully disturbing sequence in which some form of aircraft smashes its way through the streets of New York, and very nearly through your television screen, and lots of lovely shots of the Visitors' spaceships, but that's pretty much it. There's no overt dramatic fanfare, very little time spent in awe of events. It's all confined to a pleasingly uneasy opening sequence, shot from each player's geographical perspective, that quickly gives way to a three week time jump; the kind of which the writers of the rather similar, and pretty damn awesome, District 9 would be proud.

With such a great deal of time spent getting to grips with the plot, getting to a place where the key components of the show are set up, we don't do much more than scratch the surface of the characters that will be driving V in the weeks to come. Currently, they're all fairly standard archetypes, which is a little regrettable. There's clearly a great deal of talent around: Juliet Landau is typically excellent as the suspicious Erica, but she remains a fairly bog-standard Hollywood FBI agent, distrusting of others (thanks to marital problems - who didn't see that one coming, eh? Oh, and while we're on the subject, Logan Huffman's Tyler: the jury's still out on you, pal) and paranoid enough to find her way to the truth while everyone around her has the wool pulled over their eyes. Mind, at least she doesn't just happen to figure everything out on her own; instead, there's a pre-formed resistance movement that she stumbles upon, which is a far more believable and organic method of establishing this important narrative beat. US sci-fi staple Joel Gretsch (The 4400, Taken) is also on top form as the doubting Thomas, sorry Father Jack, but currently, his difficulties with his faith are simply a convenient way of getting the character together with Landau. Hopefully, in the weeks to come, we'll get a chance to explore his motivations. And then, of course, there's Party of Five and Everwood's Scott Wolf as Chad Decker, the television anchorman shooting for the stars, who manages to successfully convey the character's deep-seated reservations about 'getting into bed' with the deceptively serene Anna with the scantest of dialogue. As his story is so intrinsically intertwined with the most interesting aspect of the entire show, - the mysterious Visitors themselves - the lack of any deeper exploration of Decker's character feels more acceptable than the others... or perhaps just because Wolf and the superlative Morena Baccarin steal the show. Either way, the game of cat and mouse between the journalist and the ambassador is decidedly intriguing and shows much promise for the weeks to come.

Aside from the various gripes about character development, 'Pilot' is an effective and well written introduction to the wonderful world of V. Johnson and Peters' script is taut and entertaining, the cast slip effortlessly into their respective roles and Yves Simoneau's direction is superbly methodical and understated, reserving bombast and dramatics for when they're most needed, and shooting the whole thing through with a palpable feeling of unease. The death of the gentleman in the church is bereft of hyperbole, and is a thousand times more disturbing because of it, while the one-note ambient sounds that underscore the majority of the episode's scenes make even the most mundane of developments seem as eerie as Paranormal Activity. Well, almost. Plus, it's got a freaking awesome title sequence (if you can call it that.) It may have a few creases to iron out, but for now, V is definitely worthy of your attention... and your patience. 8.4

Television review: Heroes #411: 'Thanksgiving'

#411: 'Thanksgiving'

Wr: Adam Armus & Kay Foster
Dr: Seith Mann

Synopsis: As Noah hosts a Thanksgiving dinner, an unexpected guest visits the Petrellis. Meanwhile, Lydia tries to discover the truth about one of the carnival's secrets.

Review: Sometimes, it's the simple things in life that prove to be the most rewarding. Thanksgiving' is an unashamedly straightforward piece of work, stripping away the complexities of narrative minutiae to produce something that reads rather like a slice of minimalist theatre, predicated entirely on three thematically connected stories that remain, geographically at least, notably static. There is very little action here; movement is considerably restricted. The story pivots on the concept of Thanksgiving, taking three very different, but equally as psychologically messy, dinners - at the Carnival, the Petrellis' and the Bennet's - and using them to delineate a number of important character points, as well as to gentle nudge forward a handful of plot tropes.

Surprisingly, Claire's tet a tet with her parents actually proves to be a highlight. Where usually, the banality of her narratives cause the eyes to roll, here, Armus and Foster prevent its verisimilitude from ever becoming mundane with the aid of some highly naturalistic, and quite often understated, dialogue. For all its contrivance, HRG's appropriation of Lauren's assistance is actually rather engaging, precisely because their interactions feel human, full of awkward attempts to disguise the truth and repressed emotional feeling. And while Doug is a little silly, his interruptions at the dining table are deliberately kept to a minimum and used to great effect in conjunction with the issues surrounding the other characters. Take Claire's frustration at her power's tendency to alienate her from those she loves: excellently illustrated by a physical, as well as emotional, outburst involving a kitchen knife. The moment is considerably shocking, but the effect it has on Doug balances the horror with an element of humour, creating a satisfyingly rich tapestry. And then, of course, there's Gretchen's return, which actually feels welcome thanks to some solid and believable writing.

In the other 'households', the Petrellis provide some of the most wonderfully forced and horrifically awkward moments this side of an X-Factor audition. Cristine Rose is at her level best as a defiant Angela, trying desperately to cling to the illusion that her family is still together. Her confession feels refreshingly genuine, a trait that we don't often associate with the character, but one that looks decidedly good on her. Ventimiglia's disdain and distrust makes for a nice counterpoint, while Pasdar's increasingly unhinged and broken Nathan is fascinating to watch. When Quinto worms his way into the mix, things only get better; his taunting and manipulation carries on from the superlative work he has been doing with Greg Grunberg, coming across as deliciously sinister precisely because it avoids the hyperbolic. Sylar's psychological evaluation of the Petrelli family is absolutely spot on; so much so, in fact, that when Nathan starts to make a reappearance, it's almost disappointing.

The Sullivan Carnival, meanwhile, proves to be a delightfully warped place for a celebratory dinner thanks to a few important revelations about the fateful night that Samuel's brother died. While it is no surprise to anyone that T-Bag killed Joseph (who is played to perfection by Andrew Connolly), the sequence is so damn good that you forgive it its predictability. Seith Mann outdoes himself here: the greys and blues of the chiaroscuro are beautiful, amplified manifold by the inclusion of a sinisterly overbearing moon that looks bloody magical It's the sort of attention to visual detail that made season one, quite literally, such a feast for the eyes and it's certainly good to see it back. In fact, it's been somewhat of a staple of the season, particularly as regards this storyline, with its skewed camera angles and psychedelic designs. Robert Knepper actually does a lot to help: his grace, poise and manipulative slight of hand intensify the feeling that there is something indefinably fantastical about the whole thing.

'Thanksgiving' only really falters when it does try to amp up the action. The mysterious lightning strike that signifies the 'resurrection' of Sylar feels grossly unnecessary, a kind of tacked on visual designed purely to help spend the effects budget. Why wouldn't he simply transform? Why does there have to be a fanfare? Mostly though, this is a well-structured, cohesive piece of work that feels distinctly real while being considerably engaging. Not much happens on a literal level, but there's a whole hell of a lot going on under the surface, as the characters are nudged in different directions in preparation for the latter half of the season. Certainly one to give thanks for. 8.3

Television review: Fringe #208: 'August'

208: 'August'

Wr: Jeff Pinkner & J.H. Whyman
Dr: Dennis Smith

Synopsis: The Fringe team closes in on the mysterious Observer after they investigate a bizarre abduction case in Boston, MA.

Review: Over the course of the last season and a half, The Observer has become one of the most interesting and beguiling staples of J.J. Abrams' latest televisual effort. His is a wonderful conceit, appearing in every episode, hidden in plain sight within the frame, supervising the science-bending events that are about to unfold. He is a kind of Where's Wally? for the screenage generation, minus the jam-jar glasses and lankiness and plus a McCarthy-esque hat and shiny, shiny head. The quest to locate him has become a crucial component of the series, providing a suitably entertaining way of engaging the viewer week in and week out. To this point, we know very little about him; he writers right to left in a 'language' consisting of mysterious symbols, seems to like chili sauce (and lots of it) and perhaps most crucially of all, he rescued Peter and Walter from a dreadful car crash many years ago. Now, with the promise of an entire episode devoted to this most bizarre of creatures, Fringe looked set to rectify this situation and provide us with a great deal of juicy mythology to sink our rabid teeth into.

Except, it doesn't quite turn out that way. For all its focus on the follically-challenged ones (yes, there's more than one of these dudes, a fact that is built up as a sort of mini-reveal but we'd sorta figured it out from the events of season one's 'Inner Child'), 'August' doesn't really take us any further forward, choosing instead to pepper the narrative with hints and clues rather than resolutely concrete answers. This isn't necessarily a bad thing - after all, it's what makes that other Abrams show Lost so damn addictive - and there is certainly sufficient food for thought on the menu, but what fills the time between snippets ultimately turns out to be a little underwhelming. Essentially, the objective of the episode is to humanise the Observers, to allow them to experience some of the 'feelings' that lead us to irrational and somewhat blinded decisions.

The revelation that August has altered the course of history purely to serve his own interests, simply because he is in love with a particular woman, might seem like a nice idea on paper but it falls flat in the execution, coming across as a bit of a disappointment when one considers the weight of intrigue, the level of mystery, that surrounds these characters. What we need is more that beguiles, or some form of explanation as to their nature; essentially, anything other than drawing parallels and distracting us from the small matter of the furthering of the arc plot. The story effectively deflates once we realise that there are no ulterior motives behind August's actions, since it is mostly this enigma that drives the narrative forward. Well, that and the possibility that Peter may cotton on to the rather dramatic secret that his father's been keeping from him for the better part of twenty years, but even this fails to transpire, confined instead, probably, to an OTT moment in the season finale. Given that Fringe seems content to play silly buggers with its audience, stalling the progression of the mythology with lazily written, often sub par stand alones week after week, it would be nice if, once the the four week 'big episode' comes around (you know, the one before the week or two's break so that we'll all come back for more...) they didn't insist on keeping the brakes on.

It's not all doom and gloom though. The intricate details that we're exposed to are deliciously bizarre: the casual manner in which the Observers interact, even when one of them has 'gone off the rails', so to speak; the idea that they are timeless, appearing at every major cataclysmic event in human history; that gun; the mysterious references to 'significance' and the idea that, because the girl inadvertently kills one of their own, she is somehow important. One can only guess at their role in the grander scheme of things and, indeed, at what was meant by the observation at episode's end that things are about to get difficult for 'her'... but did they mean Olivia or that irritating little brat, sorry, I mean wonderfully sweet young niece of hers? All of this plays far better than the sort of predictable X Files investigations we've been subjected to since the season began; at least the narrative doesn't feel like it's following a well-worn formula, or trying desperately to pad out a wafer-thin concept.

While it deals directly with one of the most intriguing ideas Fringe has ever thrown at us, 'August' doesn't exactly provide Earth-shattering revelations or particularly significant advancements in the arc plot. On the one hand, this does prove to be a good thing, allowing the beguiling minutiae to take centre stage and opening the door for some solid character development, but equally, it does prove a little frustrating. If Fringe weren't so keen on holding back, perhaps this wouldn't be as much of a problem. However, as it is, having the narrative transpire to be little more than a hokey lesson about the nature of humanity (as Dave Lister might've called it, "that Star Trek crap") feels like a bit of a cop out. Promising, yes, and interesting, certainly, but just no quite enough to write home about. 7.9

Television review: Heroes #410: 'Brother's Keeper'

#410: 'Brother's Keeper'

Wr: Rob Fresco & Mark Verheiden
Dr: Bryan Spicer

Synopsis: As Matt continues his battle to resists Sylar's mental domination, Tracy struggles to control her ability and Samuel learns how to tap into the full power of his.

Review: 'Brother's Keeper' is something of a transitional episode, taking a selection of the show's core narratives and nudging them forward a few paces without really giving too much away. Thanks to 'Shadowboxing', Nathan has finally begun to catch a clue about what happened to him at the end of season three and it's certainly good to see all of the pieces finally slotting into place. The dramatic irony had begun to wear a little thin over the weeks, so now that everyone has the same level of knowledge, we can begin to get on with the pesky business of actually doing something with the plot. It's a bit of a shame that Peter's reaction to the revelation about his brother isn't a little more, shall we say, perturbed, as you'd think that the notion that the guy has been wearing the meat suit of a mass murderer would scare the bejeebus out of mostly anybody, but on the other hand, it's refreshing not to have to put up with yet another contrived grievance between the two of them. The scene in the hospital is nicely executed, full of unusual camera angles and cuts to convey the appropriate level of confusion and the moments between the brothers both atop the hills and in the apartment are nicely underplayed, successfully conveying both their bond and the overall horror of the situation.

It's a bit of a shame that Matt is up and about with the greatest of ease, mind. Last week's attempted suicide was a thoroughly brave move and one that I'd hoped they'd have the guts to see through to a more satisfying conclusion. Instead, Peter heals him (well, who didn't see that coming?), Sylar leaves his body (and goes where? Intriguing!) and he regains control of his faculties, getting up and about and using his delightful powers with delicious glee. Perhaps if Heroes hadn't played the 'oh my God! They've killed x... oh wait, no they haven't' card so many times, this may not be so much of a problem. As it is though, it just irritates and sadly, this isn't the only instance of it in the episode.

After having ended 'Once Upon a Time in Texas' with the jaw-dropping reveal that Samuel killed Mohinder, 'Brother's Keeper' retcons the whole situation and has Hiro save him. It puts a significant dampener on what is an otherwise rather neat little story. It's great to have Sendhil Ramamurthy back again, even if portions of his dialogue with his girlfriend barely even attempt to disguise their expositionary nature, and within a story that has significant bearing on the arc plot. There are some lovely touches in the inclusion of Chandra, the references to Coyote Sands and even a few odes to Lost (come on... skipping black and white video reels? DHARMA Orientation Films, anyone?), but all of this is secondary to the revelations about the source of Samuel's power, which turns out to be a rather pleasant surprise, as well as one that makes perfect sense. Whether the notion that he is recruiting the heroes so that he can become more powerful will degrade his character remains to be seen. He has been refreshingly grey so far, never veering too far either side of the limiting 'good/evil' binary and hopefully, this will continue in spite of the revelations. It's just a pity that Mohinder has to be rescued; that the impact of the previous cliffhanger must be completely annihilated. It really wouldn't hurt to take the road less travelled guys. And putting Suresh in a psychiatric hospital? Um, Niki, season one much?

There is certainly much good in 'Brother's Keeper' - hell, even Claire and Tracey's sequences are actually quite nifty and play well for each character - but unfortunately, the writing staff can't seem to keep themselves from tripping over their own feet every so often. If they'd just have the courage of their convictions, instead of pandering to self-imposed restrictions, they would create a far richer, more enjoyable show. 7.7

Television review: Supernatural #510: 'Abandon All Hope...'

#510: 'Abandon All Hope...'

Wr: Ben Edlund
Dr: Phillip Sgriccia

Synopsis: Sam, Dean, and Castiel find the Colt and go after Lucifer. The hunters reunite with Bobby to battle evil that could be potentially their last fight.

Review: 'Abandon All Hope...' is something of a misnomer; far from being a portentous omen, Ben Edlund's latest epic effort is a gloriously opulent feast for the senses, a sign of unquestionably amazing things to come. After a few weeks of head-messing self-indulgence (which was more than welcome, by the way), the Supernatural crew get back to that pesky little arc plot - you know, the one about that end of the world thing that just might be a bit of a problem - but rather than simply teasing us with a few minor developments and suggestions, they slam their feet on the accelerator and send us hurtling down the mythology highway at 90mph, throwing crucial encounters and jaw-dropping twists at us from every possible direction; so much so, in fact, that by episode's end, you're left in something of a blind haze, reeling from the magnitude of what you've just seen.

Edlund wastes no time in getting down to business, throwing the viewer head-first into the ongoing story without so much as a chance to catch a breath. Instead of spending time with Sam and Dean as they hunt the demon who possesses the Colt, we bypass the build-up entirely and find ourselves with Castiel as he has the guy in his sights. This teaser sequence is a marvellously cheeky slice of homophobia-baiting, helped no end by the absolutely inspired casting of Mark Sheppard as the duplicitous and distinctly unusual Crowley. The character actor, recently wowing audiences across the world in Dollhouse and Battlestar Galactica and loved by many for his role in the classic X Files episode 'Fire', brings a brilliantly casual quality to the role, a sort of slight-handed serenity that completely throws both us as an audience and Sam and Dean as supposed veterans of the whole demon hunting thang. The scene in which he hands them the weapon they need to kill Lucifer is just fantastic, a fine example of assured dramatic pacing, delectably rich dialogue and believably understated acting coming together to produce something that feels distinctly special. And as if this wasn't enough, Edlund chucks a truck-load of Marc Pellegrino at us too, bringing Lucifer into the spotlight again after too long an absence and illustrating exactly why this guy is the greatest villain the show has ever seen. Like Sheppard, Pellegrino knows how to successfully manufacture unease; he avoids the hyperbolic entirely, choosing instead to deliver each brutally sinister line with the utmost of composure, which in turn magnifies his callousness. Every scene is methodical and calculated: check out his interactions with the equally superb Misha Collins (beautifully shot by director Phil Scgriccia with continually circular movements to enhance their claustrophobia), in which you feel the weight of their history and the intensity of their contempt, or indeed, his ritualistic summoning of that pesky Horseman Death, in which he doesn't show a single shred of emotion - joy, anger, remorse, anything - about the humans and demons that he's sacrificing. When Sam and Dean pass him horrified glances as he snuffs out every creature in the field, his response is simply indifference. "What? They're just demons" does more to sell the magnitude of his monstrousness than any atrocity that he may commit, or threat that he may issue. It's truly disturbing, and frankly, it's all the more enjoyable for it.

As a qualifying counterpoint to these dramatic developments, 'Abandon All Hope...' offers us a gut-wrenching emotional component too, as the writers make the incredibly brave decision to end the lives of two of Supernatural's most well-loved recurring characters. Jo and Ellen played a significant part in the show's progression during its second season, and while they haven't been seen much since, only reappearing for the first time earlier this year, they still feel like a crucial part of the show. It's also testament to the strength of Edlund's writing that he can bypass any potential indifference certain audience members may have had about their characters in lieu of their lack of screen time and cut straight to our collective sense of empathy, making their deaths have a considerable impact. Using some wonderful continuity references (Repears, Hellhounds, Meg... fangeek's wet dream, this), Edlund builds the plot to a point where Jo's life quite literally hangs in the balance (the one between her fingers and guts), and then infuses the entire plot with an achingly down-trodden melancholy. When Dean is on the phone to Bobby, his pain and sadness cut a B-line straight to your tear ducts, and when Ellen offers to wait with her daughter so she can help her martyr herself, the horror of the whole situation burns a hole through your stomach. This is serious, serious stuff, played beautifully by all involved, and while it can be painful to watch, it's all the more rewarding because of it. Furthermore, it amplifies the significance of the central narrative, giving the viewer all the more reason to loathe Lucifer and invest in Sam and Dean's mission to rid the world of him. When Edlund delivers his final scene, a dialogue-free lament on the loss of these characters, its power is harrowing, its implications gargantuan.

There really is no question about it - 'Abandon All Hope...' is one hell of an episode. Edlund's script is a roller coaster ride from start to finish, firing narrative developments at us from all sides, throwing in endless continuity references, delivering superb scene after superb scene with a wealth of actors at the top of their game, and incorporating some of the most harrowingly emotional moments that Supernatural has ever seen. Jo and Ellen's deaths come as one hell of a shock to the senses, but crucially, we care. You just can't help but be moved by their sacrifice, and in that fact alone, the show has more than done its job. What a way to go into the Christmas break. 9.6

Television reviews: Supernatural #503 - #509

#503: 'Free To Be You and Me'

Wr: Jeremy Carver
Dr: J. Miller Tobin

Synopsis: Sam decides to stop hunting but has a hard time after he receives a surprise visit. Dean and Castiel try to find the Archangel Raphael in their bid to stop the Apocalypse.

Review: A truly superlative episode that takes a fresh conceit and runs about seventy miles with it. Separating Sam and Dean is one of the bravest decisions that the writing staff have ever made it pays dividends. The juxtapositionary nature of the plot is rarely overstated and makes for some highly potent comparative drama. Counterpointing Dean's search for Raphael (and hence, God) with Sam's desperate desire to remain hidden away lends a sort of tragedy to the whole thing; if 'Free to Be You and Me' had a posture, it would be shoulders haunched, gaze down cast. The respective denouements are fantastic too. Castiel and Dean's confrontation with Raph is a genius piece of writing, utterly bombastic, revelling in its own grandiosity. The actor is wonderfully spooky and the production values lend the sequence the gravitas it requires - this Armageddon, baby! We're talking about the big guns here. The only slightly regrettable element is the music, which feels just a tad too OTT but given the brilliance of just about everything else, I think we can forgive it.

Sam's moment is much more understated but it works all the better for it. While the angry hunters come across a little cliched (why isn't anyone reasonable apart from Ellen?), Jared saves the whole thing with a truly impassioned performance that really demonstrates how far both he and his character have come. And then, just to exacerbate its own stupendousness, Jeremy Carver throws a phenomenal encore at us in the final act, juxtaposing a heartbreakingly quiet, honest, reflective moment between Dean and Cas where he confesses that he feels 'free' in Sam's absence with a tour de force between the stellar Marc Pellegrino and Mr. Padalecki that strikes just the right level of understatement to be truly sinister. The revelation that Sam is Lucifer's host is completely logical and thankfully, isn't played with overt dramatics. Pellegrino's Lucifer looks set to be just about the best villain Supernatural has ever thrown at us, precisely because he doesn't play him as one. All of this helps to make Carver's script an absolute beauty. Really, they don't come much better than this. 9.5

#504: 'The End'

Wr: Ben Edlund
Dr: Steve Boyum

Synopsis: Dean refuses Sam's efforts to help him battle the Devil, and then wakes up to find himself five years in the future, in a wasteland where Lucifer has begun his endgame by unleashing a virus that transforms humans into zombies.

Review: It seems to be hard for the Supernatural writing staff to do any wrong these days. Even when they're operating outside of their comfort zones, they still knock classic after classic out of the park. Ben Edlund is known for his comedic streak ('Monster Movie', 'Hollywood Undead' et al are all his) but here he tries something fairly straight and it works an absolute treat. Okay, so he also wrote last season's 'On the Head of a Pin', which is probably the show's greatest and most horrifying episode ever, so perhaps 'The End''s success isn't such a big surprise. The concept is actually something of a bog-standard one: hero gets a glimpse of the future as a lesson from his benefactor (A Christmas Carol, anyone?) but Edlund makes it seem so much more original than that. The inclusion of future Dean is an inspired decision and Jensen does a fantastic job of illustrating the subtle differences between the characters. Misha Collins is ace as a humanised Castiel too, never making his transformation into new age hippy seem too absurd. It's also somewhat pleasing to see the Croatoan virus rear its ugly head again, as it seemed doomed to the scrapheap as a throwaway season two stand alone. Thankfully, its inclusion doesn't feel at all gimmicky and its effects are superbly depicted: the scene with the little girl is absolutely terrifying, while Dean's execution of his compatriot is completely shocking in its brutality.

And then, of course, we have Sam as Lucifer. Well, if Jared is this good now, I can't wait to see what he has in store for us in the future. Like Pellegrino, Padalecki plays it completely straight, without any bombast and it's so much eerier for it. It's the little things that make this scene so superb: Jensen's tears, Sam standing over Dean's dead body, the white suit... it's all thoroughly unnerving. Naturally, it's good to see the brothers reunited at hour's end and also for Dean to make the less expected decision by still rejecting Michael, but really, the best thing about this episode is the meat of its central narrative. This season just keeps getting better and better and continues to prove why Supernatural is the greatest thing on TV right now. The apocalypse never felt so darn good. 9.5

#505: 'Fallen Idols'

Wr: Julie Siege
Dr: James L. Conway

Synopsis: Sam and Dean head to a small town where people are murdered by famous dead icons. However the brothers come to a dead end when two teenagers reveal they saw Paris Hilton kidnap their friend.

Review: You've gotta love a show that has the balls to get Paris Hilton to guest star in an episode as herself, and then gives her dialogue that basically states that she's a poor excuse for an idol for the younger generation because, well, she's an airhead... and then brutally hacks her head off in one of the most gratuitously bloody scenes this side of a Sam Peckinpah movie. It's a surprise that she actually goes along with it, but then, maybe that's a testament to her sense of humour, to how good a sport she is. Even more wonderfully, the fact that Hilton can't act her way out of a paper bag doesn't seem t matter, since she's playing a demi-God, playing the celebrity. Any woeful delivery can be chalked up to mere character traits of the person that the beast has adopted. Sheer genius.

This is a delightfully playful episode, a sure-fire sign that the Supernatural writing staff are having the time of their lives, confident in the strength of their material and their ability to turn it into some of the best, and most fun, television you've seen in years. Julia Siege must have had a ball writing this: from the apprehension and fear that shoots through the absurd sequence between Dean and James Dean's 'car' to the mysterious, utterly OTT appearance of a poor man's Abe Lincoln in the professor's office, the entire production has a cheekiness about it, as if the narrative is actually winking, knowingly, at you. It's a far cry from the ultra-serious mythology-fests that we've been treated to for the past few weeks but therein lies its strength. 'Fallen Idols' feels original; it takes us to a place that we didn't really expect to revisit and it does it with gleeful aplomb. It's a hugely enjoyable ball of fluff, a much welcome diversion that allows you to sit back and laugh, while also offering up some delicious scares and lovely character moments.

By virtue of its narratalogical minutiae, the episode is never going to make the list of 'all time greatest Supernatural episodes' but at this stage in the game, it's just the sort of self-referential, intertextual, comedic minefield that we need. 8.7

#506: 'I Believe the Children are our Future'

Wr: Daniel Loflin & Andrew Dabb
Dr: Charles Beeson

Synopsis: Sam and Dean investigate reports of fairy tales come to life and find the young boy who is responsible, and has a power to create real creatures from fantasy. However, the brothers disagree when Castiel tells them to kill the boy because of the power he possesses.

Review: If there's one thing that Supernatural does better than absolutely any other television show on air these days, it's amalgamate genres. 'I Believe the Children are our Future' is the perfect example of how to marry two fairly antithetical models of storytelling without compromising the viewer's enjoyment of the episode. Dabb and Loflin's script is expertly crafted: it starts out as one thing and becomes something entirely different by hour's end, but the transition is barely noticeable, so organic is the narrative. When we begin, it appears that the show is trying to throw another slice of humour at us with a story that seems to function as nothing more than a simple stand alone. Of course, it's all perfectly enjoyable stuff: there are some absolutely priceless moments amongst the litany of parental fibs that come true, not the least of which is Dean's appropriately hairy palm. This is to be expected from these two writers; they did pen 'Yellow Fever', last season's howl-fest, after all.

Refreshingly, however, it isn't long before the essential mystery is solved and things acquire a far greater, and much more sinister, significance. The comedy gives way to more weighty moral issues and rather epic set pieces that feed into the ongoing narrative. Once we discover that the boy is the Antichrist, the entire tone of the script changes dramatically and we are thrust head first into the horror of the situation, as first Castiel tries to do away with the child and then his 'mother' comes after him, trying to win his poor soul over to Lucifer's side. The gravitas of the child's power is superbly handled, with some suitably chilling dialogue and off-hand gestures (it takes just a flick of the wrist and/or a word or two to bend others to his will) to paint him as a key player and thankfully, the actor playing him is absolutely spot on, never descending into the mawkish or the unnecessarily hyperbolic. The whole story resonates well with Sam and Dean's respective issues too, and there's even a suitably satisfying pay-off as the child chooses not to make the obvious decision and magics himself to Australia.

This really is delectably crafted stuff, a solid example of exactly how to marry comedy with good, powerful drama and keep your audience on their toes. With so many different flavours to sample in the space of a meagre forty minutes, this feels like something of a treat. As ever, absolutely top notch. 9.2

#507: 'The Curious Case of Dean Winchester'

Teleplay: Sera Gamble
Story: Sera Gamble & Jenny Klein
Dr: Robert Singer

Synopsis: Bobby risks his life by betting 25 years of his life on a poker game run by a witch. Dean tries to save Bobby but ends up drastically aging.

Review: Curious by name and even curiouser by nature, this exercise in moralistic pontification really is one of the most bizarre episodes that Supernatural has ever thrown at us. Gamble's script is less a linear, traditional 'case', the teleological quest towards a resolution, and more the audio-visual equivalent of a prolonged stroke of the chin or, indeed, an intellectual debate. The substance of the hour is essentially the question of immortality... or rather, the perpetual hunger for youth. Such a topic is hardly original, sure, but the script comes at it in a fairly interesting way by introducing a poker shark who plays for your years, or to hand some back to you if you happen to beat him. In a suitably murky move for the character, but one that seems completely believable, Bobby tries his hand at the game and loses, causing Dean to give it a go and lose even more spectacularly, which subsequently forces Sam to play the sweet-talking Irish guy.

Ultimately though, the minutiae don't seem to matter too much, since it's the places that these events take the characters that provides the meat of the episode. With Bobby, we are able to see just how broken he is as a result of his new-found incapacitation, as he believes it renders him 'useless.' Jim Beaver is all too often underused in the show, appearing to lend a helping hand to Sam and Dean and maybe throw in the odd surrogate father figure remark here and there. We sort of take him for granted, but here, thanks to some top notch writing, we are reminded that he is just as flawed a human being as either of the brothers, able to be a victim of his own emotional pride. Dean, meanwhile, is forced to see how the other half lives when he is aged, which leads to some nice moments of understanding with Bobby, and also some appreciation of the benefits of his usual state. And perhaps most importantly, the plot provides Sam with his own personal brand of redemption as he is finally able to save his brother meaningfully, without any outside influence or risk to his own well-being. While his success in the game is never in question, the realisation of the moment doesn't feel like a let down because it's the character beat that's most important; it is immensely satisfying to see the younger Winchester finally get the upper hand.

There are a few problems with the episode, however, and they largely centre on its narratalogical deviation. While the fresh approach is certainly commendable, it is also somewhat lethargic at points. Occasionally, the plot seems to grind to an almighty halt, and what fills the gap is not necessarily engaging. There's a little too much finger-pointing and bellyaching at the perils of being old as Dean is seen moaning at his lack of breath, bad back and any number of other things, every time he turns a corner. It's rather excessive and the joke begins to lose its comedy after only a handful of occurrences. The poker plot is also rather mundane for those who aren't fans of it or even aware of its rules; some of the more dramatic moments in play lose their edge when you haven't a clue about what's going on. Generally though, this is considerably enjoyable episode with a great deal to say, that works by virtue of its own wonderful weirdness. 8.4

#508: 'Changing Channels'

Wr: Jeremy Carver
Dr: Charles Beeson

Synopsis: Dean and Sam find themselves mystically trapped in a series of real-life "TV shows" and there appears to be no escape. They believe their old enemy the Trickster is responsible, but discover someone or something else is involved.

Review: Effectively a living, breathing, self-reflexively mindboggling advertisement for intertextuality, 'Changing Channels' is the sort of television that hundreds of thousands of poor, toiling screenwriters have wet dreams about penning. Jeremy Carver's script practically bounces off the page with reckless abandon, full of knowing winks, outrageously fourth-wall-shattering concepts and some of the most down right cheeky comedic moments this side of an episode of Monty Python's Flying Circus. In fact, the story is so self-aware that you half expect Sam and Dean to clamber out of your television set and start playing Happy Days in your front room. Except they don't. Obviously.

What they do do, however, is have the absolute time of their lives with a plot that couldn't be more outlandish if it tried. Padalecki and Ackles are in their comedic element in the episode's lighter first half, mastering the arts of underplaying and the all important comedic timing. The glances that they shoot the Grey's Anatomy, sorry, Dr. Sexy M.D. (how ridiculously awesome is that title?) doctors when they start emoting are absolutely priceless; and then, of course, there's the Banzai ripoff, where their utter cluelessness is a scream, the CSI imitation with obligatory croaky voices and sunglasses in the dark and, my personal favourite, the genital herpes advert which... well, the idea speaks for itself really.

Wonderfully, though, Carver's script doesn't stop there. It isn't satisfied with being a distinctly astute and bloody hilarious parody of the most mundane of contemporary American television, oh no. It goes and turns all serious and, get this, relevant on us in the final act. Like the superb 'I Believe the Children are our Future' before it, the 360 degree genre swerve emboldens the episode, providing additional layers and giving the viewer a much welcome surprise. The revelation that the Trickster is an angel could've been an almighty mis-step but thankfully, it's treated with the necessary sincerity and seriousness to make it work. It's quite impressive how easily Richard Speight Jr. makes the transformation from cheeky upstart to sinister deity and it's credit to Carver's ability as a writer that his dialogue never seems forced or hokey. You immediately buy into it - well, frankly, it does make sense - and it provides the arc plot with some refreshing new dimensions. Plus, that ring of fire in the abandoned warehouse just looks freaking cool, man. Absolutely awesome. Again. 9.4

#509: 'The Real Ghostbusters'

Teleplay: Eric Kripke
Story: Nancy Weiner
Dr: Jim Conway

Synopsis: Sam and Dean are tricked into attending a Supernatural convention by their super-fan Becky. Sam and Dean are in for a shock when many of the fans are dressed up like them.

Review: There's a danger with all fictional media that once the fourth wall has been broken, things may begin to fall apart. While it is undoubtedly a great deal of fun for writers to abandon their self-imposed restrictions and mess around with things like intertextuality and self-reflexivity, there is always the risk of running slightly amock, of going so far over the line so often that it's no longer visible, and your audience becomes tired of being forced to watch you disappear up your own arse week in, week out. Fortunately for Supernatural, that has yet to happen, which is largely thanks to the considerable talents of the script writers, but with 'The Real Ghostbusters', the fifth, yes, fifth achingly self-aware episode of the show in a row, you'd be forgiven for thinking that it is perhaps time to stop playing clever and get on with the business of writing a fantasy drama show.

The problem, essentially, is that there isn't enough here that's truly impressive. 'The Real Ghostbusters' has a distinctly postmodern concept at its core - the metatextual levels are off the scale, seriously: Sam and Dean attend a fan convention? About them? As fictional characters? Christ on a bike! - and this certainly raises a few eyebrows and stokes sufficient intrigue within the first ten minutes or so, but when it becomes apparent that this is the only thing that the plot really has to offer, the script begins to have trouble keeping everything afloat. Kripke just about manages it (yes, this is the creator's effort, an odd departure for someone so engrossed in the mythology, but then, perhaps it was nice for him not to have to deal with the arc plot for once), but occasionally, it's touch and go.

Becky is as annoying a caricature now as she was when she was first introduced in 'Sympathy for the Devil' and stretches credulity to its absolute limits. Come on guys - this is a completely unbelievable exaggeration, created entirely to enable the writers to have a good giggle at those unfortunate, overly dedicated fans. It feels a little cheap and just a tad insulting. There's also the LARPing, which seems neat at first, when the joke's fresh, but after umpteen instances of Sam and Dean imitation, it quickly becomes stale. There's the substance of the story itself too, which, frankly, is a little scant. Sure, it's nice to get back to basics every once in a while, and the trope is sufficiently creepy, we'll give it that (those kids give me the willies!), but it does feel rather like a retread. Hell, one well-informed 'fan' even balks at the idea of using children 'again'... it's a risky business guys, acknowledging the flaws in your scriptwriting within the dialogue. Tough one to pull off.

Ultimately, it's the little things that save 'The Real Ghostbusters', the less important intricacies that add up collectively to give the impression of a story chock full of delicious moments and containing a considered attention to detail. Chuck's speech, his appearance as the guest of honour, is just genius, a work of brilliantly understated comedy that perfectly reflects the absurdity of the whole experience. His ad-libs at episode's end are priceless and continue to make an already fantastically likeable character even more endearing. Then there's Sam's complete indifference to Becky (a response probably mirrored by the audience), Dean's disgust at the activities and behaviour of the LARPers, whikch generates some awesome dialogue, and the 'alternative' Sam and Dean themselves, who manage to transform from irritating stereotypes (your usual nerds) to well-rounded, rather insightful human beings by the time the credits roll. They make some highly astute observations on the nature of Sam and Dean's relationship and the beauty of what they have together, which genuinely comes as something of an epiphany following the bleak miserablism of the last season or so. Plus, they turn out to be a pair of homos without displaying one iota of a conventional signifier, so bravo Supernatural, bravo!

On the whole, 'The Real Ghostbusters' stands up to scrutiny and provides some good, wholesome, self-referential entertainment. It's just that, after five episodes, it would be nice if the writers put down Postmodernism for Dummies, stepped away from the 'humour' button and concentrated squarely on their mythology... or at least, if they have to be metatextual, to do it without lapsing into repetition or, worse still, irritation. It hasn't disappeared up its own arse yet, but it seems like it's having a very brief think about it. 7.9

Television reviews: Desperate Housewives #601 - #608

#601: 'Nice is Different Than Good'

Wr: Marc Cherry
Dr: Larry Shaw

Synopsis: Mike Delfino's bride is finally revealed, and whereas one woman of Wisteria Lane is struck by happiness (yet again), another woman's world falls appart. In the meantime, Lynette tries to cope with her new pregnancy, and develops some unexpected and horrifying feelings towards her unborn babies. Bree begins a reluctant affair with Karl Mayer, and Gabrielle has to deal with raising a rebellious teenage girl. Meanwhile, a new family with a dark past, headed by new housewife Angie Bolen (new castmember Drea de Matteo), moves to the street.

Review: When we left Desperate Housewives at the end of last season, the show was in dire straits. Cherry's narrative going into the sixth year looked to be one of the worst ever - a selection of half-baked regurgitations and ludicrous character swerves. It didn't seem like there was much hope for the show; it was burning out, lacking the spark that once made it must see TV. Now, as it returns to our screens, fresh faced after a cool Summer break, the jury's still very much out but thankfully, there are shafts of light shining through.

Bree's much lamented affair with Susan's smarmy ex-husband seemed like an act of desperation at the end of last year, an attempt to breathe fresh air into a character that had become a little stale. While it is still difficult to believe that she would ever contemplate bonking the man, at least Cherry acknowledges this here, giving her more of a road towards the man. Her cleanliness obsession is completely in character and is a very good way of demonstrating, and reiterating, her morality. Gabrielle and Carlos's intake of Ana, their upstart niece, actually works rather well to begin with. The dialogue in the kitchen is completely believable, feeling just like the sort of scene you'd see in your own house at seven in the morning. Unfortunately, it descends into utter farce once Gaby infiltrates the club and the audience start lifting the girl over their heads... but we'll forgive Cherry his excesses just this once.

Lynette's narrative looked to be a complete eye-roller when it began in the season five finale - do we need to see her pop a sprog or two again?? Ack! - but at least Felicity Huffman gets some interesting beats to play; the moment when she confesses that she is unable to love her new babies is just heartbreaking and is played to absolute perfection. There's even some good stuff for Mrs McLuskey (a new beau that she's hanging out with? Yummy!) and the new family adds a suitable level of intrigue, as well as some HAWT eye candy to replace Shawn Pyfrom with in the form of Danny, uber-sexy brooder extraordinaire. Shame he seems to be a dirty straight... maybe Cherry could mix things up a bit and get him snogging Preston? No? Okay, just get his top off then. Ahem. It seems fairly obvious that he isn't the one responsible for strangling Julie, although this is the same show that had Mike Delfino be the subject f yet another mystery last year so... who knows?

Speaking of Mike, this is where the episode really falls down. While the other narratives manage to salvage something enjoyable out of their crappy conceits, the Susan/Mike/Katherine triangle is just so tired that nothing even remotely enjoyable can ever come out of it. It really doesn't matter who the guy ends up with, because the story is always going to be the same. The other party will over-react, have an attack of the green eyed monsters and there'll be friction and tension for a while. Then, when all of that settles down, the writers will feel like they have to 'spice things up', so they'll split the couple up again before spending another year getting them back together. It's an endless bleeding cycle and it's utterly infuriating. Get this cack off my screen now, please. It's bloody insulting. At least Katherine has a fairly human reaction to the whole debacle. I think I'd be a bit ticked off if my lover said something along the lines of, "hey, I was going to marry you but actually, I've changed my mind and I'm gonna marry my ex instead. Have a nice day!" How rude! Sadly, her anger cannot rescue what is ultimately a horrorshow of a storyline. Honestly, cull these characters and Housewives would be ten times better. As it is now, every six or seven minutes, I just want to throw things at the TV. 7.0

#602: 'Being Alive'

Wr: Matt Berry
Dr: David Grossman

Synopsis: As the citizens of Fairview try to make sense of a recent attack in their neighborhood, Lynette withholds a secret from Susan. Gabrielle gives niece Ana advice on how to get a guy's attention, whereas Bree worries how her affair with Karl will affect her friendship with Susan, and Angie is determined to protect her son and her family's past.

Review: So, has The Ballad of Mike, Susan and the Mayfair improved any this week? Does the Pope listen to 50 Cent? Of course it bloody hasn't. If anything, it's managed to get progressively worse, as now it's mired in the ratings-grabbing, admittedly mildly interesting Julie strangulation story. Katherine comes on to Mike while he's returning home to get some things for Julie, basically degrading herself by throwing her wiles all over his oh-so-masculine frame. And just to make matters worse, we get a delightful scene between she and Orson in which she claims Mike wants her back! How are we supposed to react to this? Laugh at its absurdity? Pity her complete loss of sensible perception? Worry that she's flying off the rails? Feel annoyed that she's getting in the way of Susan and Mike's happiness? All of the above? I honestly don't know... but whatever the answer is, the whole thing is so damn cringeworthy that it's hard to feel anything other than irritation.

On the plus side, at least this narrative strand doesn't feature too heavily in the episode. Instead, we get some fairly interesting intrigue on the part of the Larry Moss family to sink our teeth into, which obviously means plenty Danny, which is absolutely fine by me (shirtless! Shirtless! Now!), the chance to see elderly super-stud Roy for the first time, which is adorably sweet, further progression in Lynette's pregnancy story that continues to impress - it's a stroke of genius to have her reveal Julie's scare in the hospital, completely out of the blue, which makes it all the more believable - although the way in which the abortion angle is swept under the rug after a few scenes is somewhat disappointing, and, of course, there's Bree and Karl's ever-burgeoning relationship, which comes to a temporary halt in the wake of Julie's attack. This strand adds an interesting dimension to the story, bringing Susan's feelings on the matter of a friend sleeping with Karl into the equation, as well as giving Richard Burgi a chance to show an emotional side of Karl that hasn't really been touched on before. It works very well and further strengthens the backbone of the plot, disguising the fact that, at first, it all seems rather absurd.

Generally, this is a fairly good episode that nudges the separate strands forward and compounds the intrigue inherent in the season's arc plot. Now if we can just get rid of the triangle from hell, things will be back on track. 7.4

#603: 'Never Judge a Lady by her Lover'

Wr: Bob Daily
Dr: Andrew Doerfer

Synopsis: After a chance encounter with John Rowland (former main castmember Jesse Metcalfe), Carlos begins to suspect that his wife still has the hots for him, and allows his niece Ana to be hired by John to test Gabrielle. In the meantime, the Scavos tell their kids they are expecting twins, and Lynette hides her pregnancy from Carlos in order to get a big promotion. Bree realizes Karl is more serious about their affair, but she doesn't want to put much effort into something she does with a man she does not love... or does she? The intensity between Susan and Angie grows as the latter tries to defend her son, but Susan is determined to warn everyone that Danny Bolen is a dangerous kid.

Review: Patently contrived and about as believable as your average L. Ron Hubbard novel, 'Never Judge a Lady by her Lover' tries oh so desperately (hah! What a pun!) to impress but sadly, falls flat on its sorry behind. Repeatedly. And with increasing kerfuffle. Yet again, Jesse Metcalfe is rolled out of cold storage to 'spice things up in', nee 'drive a stake right through' Gabrielle and Carlos's story, making his apparently obligatory once-a-season appearance as the owner of a fabtabulous new restaurant that's just opened in town. Naturally, this leads to a consideration of all the 'possibilities' down the road not taken, Gabrielle spending half the episode in some sort of wistful trance, reminiscing longingly about the time he banged her in her husband's bed, or perhaps the incident with his naked touche in the bushes (well, we all remember that one well... some of us have yet to get over it. Ahem.) We've seen it all before, endured the 'what if' pontification far too many times to be even remotely interested, and even the pay-off, her realisation that she prefers what she has with Carlos, threatens to bore you to tears, it's that unnecessary and down right obvious.

Elsewhere, Bree's narrative continues to feel like it's being played for shock value, trying so hard to do something that hasn't been tried before that it sacrifices all that's enjoyable about her character. Felicity Huffman does her best with a truckload of bad material for poor Lynette, who decides to hide the truth about her pregnancy from her boss, in spite of the fact that she should know far better than to conceal absolutely anything whatsoever, given her history, and as for Susan, well, words really don't do justice to the absurdity of this one. Yes, sure, she'd be distraught over the attempted murder of her daughter and okay, maybe this would lead her to jump to some hasty conclusions. We can all cope with her unwarranted suspicions of super hot, uber sexy, looks-far-too-good-in-a-pair-of-jogging-bottoms-for-it-to-be-legal Danny Bolan, but attempting to crush him with his friend's car? Um, sometimes you really do go far too far, Desperate Housewives. It's all played for laughs, obviously, but it just isn't funny; in fact, it reads as a plot device, not a naturally arising development, which makes it difficult to engage with the story. Disappointing, really; with a little more attention, this show could be a whole hell of a lot better. Still, at least we got that scene with the Scavo kids, eh? Now that was a scream. 5.2

604: 'The God-Why-Don't-You-Love-Me Blues'

Wr: Alexandra Cunningham
Dr: David Warren

Synopsis: As Katherine unravels, revealing how much of a toll losing Mike has taken on her, Bree comes to her aid. Gabrielle grows weary of John's intentions towards her niece, and, during the second trimester of her pregnancy, Lynette's breasts become bigger. In the meantime, Susan learns Julie has been harboring some secrets, and Angie gets Porter to throw a party for her son.

Review: An improvement on last week's disappointing effort but problems still remain. Gabrielle's story is the biggest offender, refusing to let Jesse Metcalfe and his rippling pectorals just lay down and die. No, instead, we have to endure yet another run through one of the parties regretting that they ever parted ways, trying to rekindle a long lost flame and being well and truly spurned. Look, it was old hat when it happened in season three; three years later, it really doesn't feel any fresher, and wrapping it up in Ana's storyline doesn't do anything to help matters. Metcalfe doesn't even show us so much as a cheeky nipple, for God's sake! Speaking of hotties, it is certainly good to see Shawn Pyfrom back but sadly, he's fully clothed too, and gets little more than a bit-part in the teaser sequence. You can't really blame him for wanting to distance himself from the show, given how poorly Andrew has been treated over the last few seasons, but you can't help feeling that he's one of the most interesting characters milling around. Certainly more so than bloody Katherine Mayfair, whose descent into stark-raving-lunacy is just plain embarrassing. The writers have turned her into a cipher, spewing the most extreme and ludicrous of objections to Mike and Susan's wedded bliss week in, week out, and now, as if unsatisfied by this complete and utter hammering of her character's integrity, they see fit to make her deluded enough to believe that Delfino still harbours any semblance of feeling for her whatsoever. Her dialogue is so hyperbolic and her scenes so unbelievable that she just becomes irritating, which does a great disservice to what was a markedly sophisticated and multi-layered creation only a couple of seasons ago.

Thankfully, other aspects are better. Lynette's narrative, despite having too great a whiff of the old 'rampant male sexism' about it, actually manages to pull off a few genuinely amusing moments, - particularly the initial conversation with Carlos about the supposed implants - Bree benefits from being mostly removed from her ongoing car crash of a story with Karl and showing some genuine and quite moving compassion for her compatriot, and the ongoing mystery of the identity of Julie's attacker takes some genuinely interesting twists and turns as first Susan learns a few choice facts about her daughter's recent activities and then we discover that Larry Moss is the mystery man with whom she has been having an illicit affair... which, to be honest, became obvious the moment Pyfrom mentioned that the guy was married, but still, at least they're doing something interesting with a character that we really know far too little about. Quite a few shafts of light then, but not enough to completely pierce the encroaching darkness. Housewives, you're not out of the dog house yet. 6.9

#605: 'Everybody Ought to Have a Maid'

Wr: Jamie Gorenberg
Dr: Larry Shaw

Synopsis: Gabrielle is deemed a bad mother during her daughter Juanita's playdate, and she tries desperately to prove to others that she is a responsible parent. Bree gets defensive when she's judged by a motel maid (guest star Aisha Hinds) for having an affair with Karl Mayer, and Lynette is put off by her new handyman, Roy Bender (guest star Orson Bean), when he defers to Tom for approval on all things, whereas Susan and Katherine come to blows over Mike. Meanwhile, a lapse in judgment on Danny's part leads to a terrible mishap that Angie and Nick must cover up.

Review: What's the best thing about this episode, ladies and gentlemen? Is it the distinctly insightful, and rather moving, conversation between Tom and Roy about Lynette's inherent need for control? Could it be the wonderfully astute observation by one of the Solis children that 'the monkey's killing the clown'? Or perhaps the continued inclusion of the ludicrously attractive young Danny Bolan, who needs to wear less clothes pronto? Well, frankly, no. It's none of these things. The best thing about 'Everybody Ought to Have A Maid' is Aisha Hinds, one of the best character actors in the business right now, who manages to knock the pants off of pretty much everyone else in the episode in her minor role as the observational hotel maid. She's cropped up in Prison Break and True Blood of late (and in the later, she was bloody fantastic as the kooky Miss Jeanette) and now she's here, providing Marcia Cross with the springboard that she needs to give Bree Hodge some of the most in-character moments she's had in one hell of a long time. The final conversation that the two have is just superb, brash and to the point but loaded with meaning. Finally guys, something to get excited about in this otherwise rather contrived storyline.

The aforementioned highlights are also, obviously, worthy of praise, but a nod should be given to the ongoing mystery surrounding the Bolans for ramping up the tension and the intrigue with the inclusion of the dreaded firearm. Unfortunately, this being Desperate Housewives, the episode wouldn't be complete without a thoroughly contrived slice of out-and-out farce and, lo and behold, good old Susan and Katherine can be relied upon, once again, to come up trumps. Honestly guys... shooting her? Really? And that Neighbourhood Watch meeting... ack! Do we really need to be hammered over the head with Mayfair's incessant lust for her ex and comedy-villain hatred of his lover? It's just tiresome. Get these two out of this thoroughly unenjoyable rut and into some interesting narratives, stat. Then we'd have something good on our hands. 7.4

#606: 'Don't Walk on the Grass'

Wr: Marco Pennette
Dr: David Grossman

Synopsis: When Bree begins to fall for Karl, she decides it is time to break things up before they get way too serious. However, Karl isn't willing to let her go that easily, and makes her a proposition. In the meantime, Juanita says a bad word during a school play and Gabrielle is attacked by the school's principal (guest star Marianne Muellerleile), which leads her to respond and ultimately get her daughter out of the school, whereas Lynette learns her husband is cheating during mid-term. Katherine pretends to be on Susan's side to get to Mike, and Angie hides some secrets regarding her mother.

Review: Another week, another round of cringeworthy storytelling from the Desperate Housewives writing staff. After having endured ridiculous propositions, contrived shootings and really, really irritating bouts of disillusionment from the walking caricature that now is Katherine Mayfair, this time around, we're forced to embrace deceptive sweetness, faux friendliness and a mindbogglingly ridiculous run in with a bathtub. Oh come on, calling Mike to get him to 'fix your pipes' late at night, when he's blatantly at home with Susan? Why wouldn't you think she'd get a little suspicious and want to pay you a visit? The subsequent mad dash to extinguish all of the candles and remove the rose petals is so hopelessly devoid of any comedic value that it makes the eyes roll... honestly, can we have the gal that obsessed over Dylan's safety back now, please? She was a heck of a lot more interesting than this one dimensional waste of space.

The remaining storylines, thankfully, continue the upward trend that began last week... or they do for the most part, at any rate. It's good to see the writers doing something a little different with Gabrielle; the inclusion of the children into the mix in season five really helped to enliven things, and once again, they prove to be the source of something actually quite interesting here. Forcing the former model to home school her child could be something that adds whole new dimensions to her character, and it's certainly refreshing to see that Jaunita doesn't automatically forgive her mother at episode's end, just because the denouement's rolling round. Tom's story is complete fluff but it certainly raises a few smirks, and it seems that Bree has at least learned something from her encounter with Miss Jeanette last week, forcing Karl to back off a little and see whether they can date, rather than simply fuck. It's a shame that the brooch trope is so utterly ridiculous though; please, I don't buy for one second that Karl would just conveniently 'forget' that he ever gave the thing to Susan. Honestly, these problems are so easy to straighten out... a little TLC guys, that's all it really takes. 7.4

#607: 'Careful the Things You Say'

Wr: Peter Lefcourt
Dr: Bethany Rooney

Synopsis: Susan is in desperate need of help to figure out if Katherine was responsible for strangling her daughter, and the detective who agrees to help her, Denise Lapera (guest star Kathy Najimy), shares some history with her that they both would rather forget. In the meantime, Lynette learns about Julie's past affair with Nick Bolen, which leads her to have her own theory as to who may have strangled her. The Hodges are invited over for dinner by the Bolens, and Nick proposes to Bree that she hire Angie to work for her at the catering company. Meanwhile, Gabrielle takes advantage of her housekeeper (guest star Anna Katarina) by making her play the role of Juanita's tuitor.

Review: 'Careful the Things You Say' is a game of two halves, where one is replete with interesting new character pairings and the other is full of stale retreads of former glories. With Lynette and Bree's stories, the episode is able to hold its head up high and lay claim to still being one of the sharpest and most underhandedly humorous drama-cum-soap-operas on television. Coupling Mrs. Scavo up with Julie Mayer was a fantastic idea right from the get go, way back in the season's second episode, and it's really refreshing to see the pair engaged in a heart-to-heart, delivering some meaningful and believable discourse that edges forward this year's arc plot without a great deal of contrivance. Lynette's effective voicing of her suspicions to good old Larry Moss plays wonderfully, despite being somewhat reminiscent of Tom's encounters with Dave last year, and Felicity Huffman caps it all off by selling his unspoken threat with just the right level of unease. From the Hodges, meanwhile, we have a lovely piece of comedic theatre, set around a dining table, that manages to incorporate Bree's infidelity, Orson's cluelessness, the couple's woeful marital problems, Nick's infidelity, Angie's maneouvering and, indeed, this couple's woeful marital problems simultaneously, allowing the humour to arise naturally out of a perfectly ordinary, and yet highly charged, situation. It's a shame that Bree resorts to stealing Angie's recipies, and that it takes a few stern words for the pair to end up where they should be - in the kitchen together - but at least we get some honesty from our favourite gun-toting conservative and the makings of what could be a most enjoyable friendship. It's worth mentioning, actually, that the Bolens continue to be distinctly intriguing week in, week out. There's some mighty fine acting chops on display here, particularly when Angie reveals that she's aware of Nick's affair, and the writers keep things just the right side of oblique and mysterious not to provoke frustration.

Sadly though, there's that pesky second half to contend with and it really drags the episode down. Susan's visit to the police station is practically the epitome of lazy writing, fit to burst with half-arsed stereotypes and predictable dialogue. The fact that she and Denise have some unfortunate history is telegraphed from the moment they first clap eyes on each other, so the reveal fails spectacularly, but how on Earth did anyone think this would be even remotely entertaining in the first place? Oh yes, Susan's being harrassed by Katherine and having trouble getting through to the police... well, wouldn't it be even funnier if the police turned out to be on Mayfair's side, and proactively hindered Susan? Yeah yeah, that'd be great. It's a screamer... write it down! Except don't. It's unbelievable, it's old hat and it's just plain uninteresting. Same goes for you, Gabrielle's-housekeeper-cum-Physics-expert. We've had this story before, and it came in the form of the maid that Carlos had his wicked way with in season two. Granted, she wasn't helping any children with their maths homework, but still... Gabrielle shirking her responsibilities and palming them off to someone less fortunate? How original!

What Desperate Housewives needs right now is consistency. It needs to find a writer or two who can embelish everyone's narratives with creativity and derive comedy and drama organically from the characters, instead of grafting it on with the heaviest of hands. In its current state, it's far too hit and miss, and sooner rather than later, it's going to come a cropper because of it. 6.7

#608: 'The Coffee Cup'

Wr: David Flebotte
Dr: Larry Shaw

Synopsis: Susan and Katherine are both sentenced to community service by picking up trash, and in the meantime Katherine finds a way to let Susan know she and Mike once had sex five times in a day, which annoys Susan, as her sexual ratio with Mike was never that high, leading her to believe he was closer to Katherine. Meanwhile, Gabrielle goes out of her way to get her daughter into Catholic school, and the only way to do so is by having Carlos send one of his employees, and Lynette's trainee, to Florida, much to Lynette's dismay, as she was training him to cover for her during her soon-to-come maternity leave. Angie refuses to make small talk with Julie Mayer, and Orson lets on that he is suspicious his wife might be cheating on him.

Review: A thoroughly hopeless episode that feels like it's been written on the back of one of the coasters that adorn the tables in the quaint ol' 'Coffee Cup.' Honestly, is anyone bothered about what happens in this show any more? Is there a single soul left who actually cares about which tired scraps of plot that it's going to pilfer this week? Who looks forward to seeing just how many of the episode's narratives that they can predict the outcome of after the first five minutes? Well, I guess the answer to that can be found in the ratings, which continue to impress so I guess someone out there's satisfied... but not this cantankerous old get, oh no. He's too bloody irritated by the idiocy that runs rampant throughout the script, that seems to suggest that the writers don't think that their viewers have a shred of intelligence between them. Just look at that teaser, for God's sake. Susan is sentenced by a judge with a warped sense of humour? Who seems to have something of a callous disregard for what makes the law what it is? Well, of course! It just wouldn't be crazy old Mrs. Delfino's life if she wasn't being hampered by absurd circumstance at every turn. But wait - there's more! Katherine gets to parade around the courtroom in the most ridiculous of outfits, firing accusations and generally acting the fool, as if she's in some black and white dramedy from the 40s, playing the duplicitous femme fatale and painting herself into a stereotype. No, this isn't going a tad overboard at all guys. Really.

Things get steadily worse as the narrative careers onwards. The pair end up doing community service together, picking up rubbish, which manages to be resolutely unfunny, before a connivingly plotted remark from Mayfair about her proactive sex life with Mike results in Susan completely abandoning every one of her senses and trying to lay the poor bugger at every possible moment, and probably every which way too. It's silly and it's completely predictable - it is absolutely guaranteed from the moment the craziness begins that Mike will utter a few calming 'I love yous', Susan will regret what she's done and they'll end the episode snuggled up together, watching The Bachelor. Which they do. Huzzah! Except really, really not. No huzzahs at all. Just yawns. Lots and lots of yawns. Yawns compounded by just about everything else in the episode; Gabrielle's woefully over-the-top attempts to get her daughter into Catholic school being the next best offender, closely followed by the complete gumf that goes on in the Scavo household as they hound that wonderful employee of Carlos's and dissuade him from moving to Florida. Honestly, if I was that guy, I'd be asking why the hosts were taking such a great interest in my movements... their behaviour absolutely screams 'ulterior motive' and would be called out almost instantly. As it is though, the couple are blissfully blind to all of this and coast along, lapping it all up, just so that the plot can move forward another few paces. Frankly, it's bloody ludicrous. Hell, even the arc plot's losing its grip... if it turns out to be Angie, to be that bleeding predictable, I might just pitch a fit.

There are occasional flashes of improvement: the grossly underused Orson finally claws his head out of the sand and catches a clue, giving Kyle MacLachlan something interesting to do for once, and the moments with both Bree and Angie while he's listening to Madame Butterfly are genuinely touching. It's nice to see Bree acknowledge the depth of her conflict too; it seems that things aren't as simple as having fallen completely out of love with her husband. Lynette's impending conundrum regarding work is also a brave move, and her 'reveal' scene with Carlos is distinctly well written. Unfortunately, these are mere snippets and they aren't enough to paper over the deep, deep cracks made by the whole. The ship's sinking guys... somebody better think of something fast. 5.0

Television reviews: Fringe #203 - #207

203: 'Fracture'

Wr: David Wilcox
Dr: Bryan Spicer

Synopsis: Peter, Olivia, and Walter race against time to investigate the bombing of a train station. Walter discovers something unusual about the human remains.

Review: Another week, another bog standard episode of The X Files Lite. This edition's 'curiosity' is distinctly weak: we are treated to a wafer thin story about a one-dimensional ex-army general who has a bit of a grudge against the Observers, harnessing the powers acquired by a select few of his former officers when under experimental treatment in order to blow up the parcels being sent between the bald-headed ones... which, of course, kills his compatriots in the process. This all just feels far too familiar. We've figured out exactly who is behind what by the end of the first act, so the rest of the episode just feels like water treading, stumbling around watching the crackpot Fringe division dodge the answers completely. Peter's miraculous contacts are proving to be a bit of a nusiance too; how many times is he going to 'know someone who can help.... ILLEGALLY'?!

Olivia's sub-plot with the crazy bowling alley dude also seems to drag on and on... "oh sensei, teach me to remember Spock!" Euck. I give Fringe til episode ten to get to the point when Dunham remembers every last detail and then another ten hours to actually return to the parallel universe... by which point, it'll be the end of the season again and we can start the cycle over. At least 'Fracture' begins to join the dots with the Observer and his kind, but the notion that they are in some way 'against' us poor humans is made out to be a big revelation when in fact, it feels like anything but. This notion has crossed the viewer's mind many a time before... we knew there was at least something odd about him anyway. So, again, this is a passable episode but it feels like we've seen most of it before. Surprise us Fringe, go on! You know you want to. 6.0

204: 'Momentum Deferred'

Wr: Zack Stentz & Ashley Edward Miller
Dr: Joe Chappelle

Synopsis: Agent Dunham, still recovering from her traumatic visit to the alternate reality, is given a concoction by Walter to help her remember. Another woman being experimented on by Walter is introduced. Meanwhile the Fringe team look into a series of robberies that are linked to shapeshifting.

Review: 'Momentum Deferred'! Hah! What an unfortunate pun, eh? How apt a title! Fringe has been doing exactly that for the last three weeks, kicking all the crucial narrative development to the curb in favour of delivering a load of half-arsed stand alone episodes that lack weight and feel like they've been written on the back of a beer mat. Fortunately for the somewhat ailing show, this episode doesn't live up to its title. Instead, it manages to be easily the best thing that the writing staff have done since season one's finale and in fact, it might even be better than that. Barely anything about the script feels blase or predictable, with the possible exception of Walter's encounter with his former experimental subject, which comes across as a little too tacked on, as if Miller and Stentz felt like they couldn't go an entire episode without including some sort of emotional investment for everybody. Mind, it does give John Noble an entirely new set of emotions to play around with so perhaps we'll forgive it.

Everything else, however, is fairly riproaring and beguiling stuff, and just to make things even more palatable, loaded with actual answers. The shapeshifter storyline is pulsatingly dramatic once you've got past the absurdity of it all (I mean come on, wasn't this supposed to be about 'fringe science'? Things within the realm of possibility? Mercury-blooded robotic shapeshifters from a parallel universe? Um, yeah, see that all the time!) The story moves along at a brisk pace, starting in curiosity as Curtis from 24 rummages through a bunch of severed heads and ending in the unfortunate death of Agent Francis at the hands of good old Dunham. We get a truckload of Leonard Nimoy, which can be nothing but a good thing, and his dialogue with Olivia actually offers up a whole host of explanations, as well as fresh intrigue, which is definitely refreshing to see.

More often than not, this show spends time piling on the questions rather than answering them, so this feels like something of a treat. You start to feel like your patience and persistence is paying off - writers and producers, this is what we need to see more of, and if you insist on doing hours that are independent of the central mythology, at least load them with the abundant level of intrigue and number of layers that we see here. You can do it guys... now don't let us down again. 9.2

205: 'Dream Logic'

Wr: Josh Singer
Dr: Paul A. Edwards

Synopsis: A man attacks his boss after a disturbing dream and the team travels to Seattle to investigate. Meanwhile, Broyles needs to meet with Nina Sharp.

Review: It is notoriously difficult to follow centre-piece episodes, especially when your subject matter is far, far removed from the driving force of a show's ongoing narrative. Stand alone hours are probably the bane of most writers' existence for that solitary reason: you need something truly original, really engaging, in order to compete with the heavyweights. Unfortunately, while 'Dream Logic' really tries its hardest, it just can't seem to come up with the goods. Singer's script has a nice twist, sure: making the crime's investigator and supposed victim actually be the perpetrator is a good touch, but its realisation is ultimately too illogical and, well, silly. The revelation causes the plot to sort of fizzle out and it quickly becomes apparent that there's nothing or no one left for the guy to 'feed' from; yes, it's rather admirable for him to effectively take his own life, but it sort of deflates the narrative, eradicating all the forward momentum that was generated by the intricacies of the investigation. Quite literally, we receive the epiphany one minute and the story is over in the next. It fails to pay off the rather well-handled build up and makes the episode as a whole feel a bit disappointing.

There are other problems too: the constant reliance on Peter's mysterious connections is actually referenced and even made fun of, but it's starting to be far from a joke. It seems that whenever the writers corner themselves, they whip out this convenient trope in order to move things along, and it's far beyond the point of being amusingly transparent. The premise of the episode is also a little lacking, wrapped up as it is in such a bloody predictable set of intricacies. Once again, we have some experimental scientists treating those with problems and lo and behold, it goes wrong! It was only two episodes ago that we saw this very story unfold in the rather lacklustre 'Fracture' and it really is only the minutiae, the window dressing, that differ. Consequently, the major beats of the plot lack oomph and the storytelling just feels lazy. In fact, Fringe did this plot umpteen times in its debut season so by now, we're all so anaesthesised to it that it fails to truly engage. This is why hours like 'Momentum Deferred' are so welcome, because they try something different with the formula; they deviate from the pattern (to coin a phrase.) Yes, there is a lot of good here - the acting's top notch, the genuine emotion generated by Charlie's death is quite moving - but what we need, Fringe, is for you to surprise us... not to become stuck in a rut. 6.2

206: 'Earthling'

Wr: Jeff Vlaming & J.H. Whyman
Dr: Jon Cassar

Synopsis: The Fringe team investigates instances of victims being transformed to ash by high-energy discharges, and discover a connection to Broyles' past.

Review: Two weeks away, one lengthy Pattern-orientated recap and what do we get? A bloody stand-alone, that's what, completely bereft of any shapeshifting parallel universe robots or Leonard Nimoy cameos. Still, at least Whyman and Vlaming's script is far from a duffer and contains more than enough that is sufficiently interesting to keep the viewer's ever-increasing frustration at bay... for the most part. The concept - that something is quite literally turning people to dust - is actually quite an eerie one and it's deftly handled by both writers and director alike. Jon Cassar, 24 stalwart and king of suspense, does a masterful job of ramping up the tension, making skilful use of chiaroscuro, long shot, slow camera movement and particularly, the suitably monotone and brusque underscore to construct something genuinely chilling. The scenes in the hospital, in particular, stand out as some of the most terrifying in the show's short history. Whyman and Vlaming take their time with the setup too, limiting the number of murders and making each one more methodically menacing. There's a palpable feeling of unease undercutting the whole story, magnified greatly by the unusual and largely unexplained origins of the mysterious creature.

Moreover, this is a distinctly miserable script: the Fringe Division don't really save the day, they merely keep the 'creature' at bay. Things essentially fall apart for the poor victim as Bishop realises that there is no solution; that he is as good as dead... and then, of course, his poor brother quite literally bites the dust. Hardly the stuff of feel-good TV. It's distinctly pleasing to see such brave narrative decisions being made, and it gives the episode an extra edge (well, that and its focus on Broyles, one of the most criminally underused and under-developed characters on the gogglebox!)

The only real gripe is the dubious nature of the 'explanation' which feels a little tacky and convenient, rather like the similarly themed X Files episode 'Space', which 'Earthling' seems to be based upon. For all there is an element of intrigue to be found in the lack of concrete answers, it also threatens to drive Fringe too far into conventional sci-fi territory. The last thing we all need is for little green men to start showing up, only to find that they're long lost acquaintances of Walter's or something. And no, that's not just because the show is in desperate need of less similarities to Chris Carter's baby. Still, a competent effort and a good example of how to do these pesky non-mythology episodes well. 8.4

207: 'Of Human Action'

Wr: Robert Chiappetta & Glen Whitman
Dr: Joe Chappelle

Synopsis: The Fringe Division investigates an unusual kidnapping with connections to Massive Dynamic.

Review: A considered, intelligent episode that manages to incorporate that oh-so-important ingredient that so many other stand alones choose to ignore: complexity. While the revelation that the boy is the one behind the somewhat horrific attacks is easily deduced (or, at least, it is to this writer... maybe I've become too accustomed to the type and style of swerve commonly used in American television drama), it isn't treated with an unnecessarily verbose fanfare, so we aren't left scratching our heads at exactly why we're supposed to be so impressed or surprised. Instead, the writers make the reveal and move on, taking the story in a completely different direction by using Peter as a vehicle for the necessary exposition regarding the child's reasoning. And significantly, this doesn't happen at the end of the third act, or even halfway through: no, less than twenty minutes have passed before the puzzle has been pieced together, giving the episode a chance to take a breath and try something new. It's decidedly refreshing to see; all too often this season, Fringe's plots have seemed threadbare, with basic conceits barely fleshed out, stretched painstakingly thin over forty minutes ('Night of Desirable Objects', I'm looking at you.) It's extraordinarily frustrating for the viewer, feeling rather like our intelligence is being insulted, but thankfully, this is almost entirely avoided here.

The sequences between Peter and Tyler are very nicely executed, featuring some believable, evocative dialogue that helps to both three-dimensionalise the boy's character and add some interesting dimensions to the Bishop family dynamic. For once, the child actor (Cameron Monaghan) is actually quite good, managing to pull off teenage angst and trauma pretty well. We also get a chance to peer into the deeper psychological ennui of Walter's relationship with his son: John Noble is just excellent here, delivering some deeply moving moments with the aid of very little dialogue. As per, kudos is to be given to the director and cinematography guys, this time for doing some decidedly disturbing in the execution of the 'mind control' scenes. The moment in the convenience store is perhaps the most memorable; when the poor customer pours boiling water over his head and runs straight into the glass, you just can't help but gasp at the horror of the whole thing. There's some commendable use of music too: the dissonant strings that soundtrack the police officers' suicides amplify the scare factor considerably.

The only real bugbear is the rather tacked-on ending. While it is nice to see yet another twist in the tale and one that, admittedly, isn't all that expected, it does threaten to cheapen the story somewhat. Fringe has so far managed to avoid demonising Massive Dynamic to too great an extent, and while this plot development doesn't necessarily constitute a besmerching of the organisation, if we see too many of these last minute reveals regarding their dodgy scientific experiments, it could become both repetitive and detrimental to the show's integrity. And guys, how many more times are you gonna pilfer from the X Files back catalogue? Multiple child experiments? 'Eve', much? (Look it up...) 8.6