#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
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