Television review: 24 #813: '4am - 5am'

813: '4am - 5am'

Teleplay: Manny Coto & Brannon Braga
Story: Howard Gordon
Dr: Milan Cheylov

Synopsis: CTU recovers from an EMP that knocked out all of its systems while Jack and Cole fight the terrorists and try to escape a shootout. Chloe works to get CTU back online and get satellites up so that they can help Jack and Cole while Dana dodges Prady and his questions.

Review: It is a truth universally acknowledged that 24 is in desperate need of a good culling. Forget the thousands upon thousands of dollars generated by its relatively steady viewing figures (no matter how much you might want to tune out, like all good car wrecks, you just can't) and the millions garnered through merchandise and promo; ignore the desperate pleas of the handful of rabid fans who have convinced themselves that they 'need their fix', as if somehow enslaved to the show's narcotic tendencies; cast aside the fact that you'll be putting hundreds of writers, directors, cast and crew out of a job. This show needs to die. And now. Before it drives an entire nation to psychological breakdown. Before it turns heretofore innocent and perfectly content individuals into sociopathic killing machines, battering every harmless biped within a two feet radius to death because they just can't take it anymore. And you may think that a little extreme, and perhaps it is, but really, there's no other way to describe this season of 24 than as a catalyst for agonising, hair-pulling, face-munching frustration.

If you want to point the finger of blame, it should be aimed squarely at the writing staff, whose patent refusal to challenge themselves and do anything other than regurgitate formulaic narrative patterns is crippling the show's success. It's a worrisome and baffling trend, particularly given the fact that occasionally, the season does deliver either passable or actually engaging instalments. Last week's hour of power was a well-structured, pointedly tense piece that ratcheted up the suspense and avoided many of the pitfalls that have previously plagued the programme. Unfortunately, these appear to be mere blips; brief flashes of life from a series that has lapsed into a comatose state and is threatening cardiac arrest. And as you can probably guess, '4am - 5am', hour thirteen of this shockingly troubled year, returns to the trend, falling rather spectacularly from grace and proving once again that the production crew have well and truly lost every last juicy morsel of the plot.

The episode is a two-hander, oscillating between juxtapostionary narrative strands that counterpoint each other, both thematically and in terms of the quality of their content. The over-arching motif, inevitably, is the fallout from the detonation of the EMP, which promptly renders things a little difficult both at CTU HQ and for those in the field. This would be an encouraging element if it were handled realistically and without the most ludicrous of haste. Taking the base of operations as our first concern, Howard Gordon, Evan Katz and David Fury resort to fanciful pseudo-technological garbage in an effort to impress the viewer, but actually wind up making the programme appear amateurish. As soon as the representatives from the NSA arrive (within about ten minutes, note) and processes are put in place to begin repairing the systems, dialogue descends into technobabble and make believe, with the occasional dose of verisimilitude thrown in just to make it seem like the writers know what they're talking about. Which they don't. Quite clearly. The terminology is largely correct, but what NSA and especially Chloe propose doing with it is just plain rubbish, completely out of context and having no grounding in reality whatsoever. But who cares, right? Who really pays attention to that stuff anyway? Why should we get hung up on it? Well, there seems little point in attempting to inject realism, taking steps to seem convincing, when actually you're just doing the opposite. That's counterproductive, guys. Just don't bother!

What is worse, undoubtedly, is the manner within which the story is structured. The plot is framed around two thoroughly abhorrent and irritatingly contrived character beats: the smarmy oneupmanship of the NSA representative and the ridiculous persistence and inappropriateness of one Chloe O'Brien. The pair are effectively ciphers here, spouting dialogue that simply performs a role (antagonist and supposedly protagonist), rather than embellishing character or creating something organic. The NSA guy, in particular, is little more than a one-dimensional cardboard cut out, his sole role seemingly being to provide O'Brien with an obstruction so that she can overcome the odds (again), prove how oh-so-wonderful she is and drag the plot out at the same time. Well, yay for that, eh? Honestly, is there any real need for this? Does anyone watching the show genuinely feel engaged with Chloe's 'struggle'? Or are well just irritated by the fact that the NSA dude shows no semblance of compromise whatsoever, simply will not listen to sense and has the most stuck-up attitude known to man, considering himself superior to all those working at CTU and actually having the audacity to get annoyed by the fact that the place was subjected to an attack that they couldn't possibly have predicted? We are surely supposed to hate this guy, ut actually, we just end up hating the writers for making us endure this crap yet again, for resorting to a storyline that they've slung at us time and time again for the last eight fucking years. Someone from the outside comes in, they clash with everyone else, we rally around CTU and hope to boot them out. Ye Gods, why???

Chloe's one-woman effort to magically fix all of CTU's obliterated systems only hampers things further. Of course, she knows better than every last one of NSA's tech experts! Of course she has a work around that even the guy who helped design the entire freaking building wouldn't have conceived of! And okay, so perhaps the reason he wouldn't is that the idea is dangerous, but then, why does Hastings allow her to go ahead with it anyway? Would it kill the writing staff to not allow everything to be resolved within the space of one episode and actually demonstrate some long-lasting consequences? That's too much these days, apparently; we need to turn O'Brien into the single greatest analyst in CTU history! Maverick, intuitive, practical... wow, she's sodding amazing, isn't she? And handy with a gun too! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, just when you think there are no further depths that this strand could plumb (after being made to endure pointless obstruction and worthlessly contrived conflict), Chloe actually aims a firearm at her superior, quivering like she's never seen one of these strange devices before, thereby risking her entire career for the gazillionth time. But it's okay because hse knows she's right so... we'll just let her off! There will be no lasting consequences for this gal, oh no. Suspension? Ex-communication? Prison? Oh no! A slap on the wrist from Hunchback Hastings in a patently laughable scene that essentially consists of a series of 'ner ner ner ner ner's. That's it! He lets her continue! Despite the insistence of qualified officials that what she's doing may well destroy the very fabric of the building or something. Seriously. What is this crap? Rajskub, Williamson and virtually everyone else involved are awful, delivering their lines with little or no conviction and seeming decidedly wooden, but you really can't blame them. This is truly horrible stuff, the kind of writing that has no place in a two-bit soap opera, never mind a supposedly quality drama like 24.

Of course, everything is fixed by hour's end. Well, sorta. They've got their systems up and running. Chloe's essentially fixed everything that they need in order to communicate with Jack (whom she's desperately worried about, you know... in case you didn't get that), prevented the drones from falling out of the sky (well, there's a major design flaw if ever I did see one) and stopped the vending machine from spewing out Oreos when you ask for a hot chocolate. So... what was the point? We're treated to a cumulative twenty minutes of technology-bereft action in the field (more on that later) and absolutely no consequences within the Counter Terrorist Unit itself. Seriously... where's the challenge here? The poor parole officer's files get conveniently erased and... um... that's it! Why not maintain this strand? Why not challenge your writing skills and force yourselves to come up with something new and entertaining, instead of resorting to the same lazy quick fixes with every passing week? The absurdly efficient technology is one of 24's core problems and removing it from the equation provides the road ahead with so much promise. To utterly and completely waste it within the space of an hour, especially in the sort of cheaply composed and catastrophically lazy manner as here, is just plain stupid. Don't give us the drones back; don't allow everyone to have access to every last security camera in the entire world. Give us something different. Please!

Frustratingly, it seems that the writers are categorically incapable of providing this. With every passing scene, the CTU strand simply gets worse and worse, sinking further into the quicksand of banality, until finally, it disappears beneath the surface, drowning in its own fetid detritus. Yes, as if the magical fixes and hopelessly wooden acting weren't enough (check out that scene between Hastings and Kayla... could you get any more forced? Seriously?!), 24 effectively lobotomises itself at hour's end with the oh-so-exciting twist that, yes, your eyes weren't deceiving you and your brain does hurt oh so very much, DanaJenny is a mole! She's working for the no-good, no-name terrorists! She's been secretly hampering CTU's efforts all this time by... struggling to silence her ex-con ex-lover and, um, not much else really! And why? Well, the answer's obvious,isn't it? She's Rod Stewart's No. 1 fan and she just can't wait to see him perform 'Maggie May' in front of thousands in Manhattan and subsequently obliterate the entire city! Sorry, in-joke there. Couldn't resist. Really, this has to be made light of otherwise I'll start bashing my brains in with the keyboard.

God, this truly is the very definition of abysmal, isn't it? Whose idea was this? Oh sure, it's going to give Katie Sackhoff something more interesting to do for the next half of the season and at least it connects her narrative to that pesky central story (we've essentially done away with any unrelated gumf... yay!), but did it really have to be this? Did we have to have yet another Goddamn motherfudging mole working inside CTU? In one sense, it's arguably a logical extension of the fact that we already knew she had a prior conviction but come on. Putting aside the fact that the security checks at this organisation are the most useless ever invented, we've seen this story a billion, trillion, gazillion bloody times. It isn't interesting any more. There's nothing left to surprise us. The audience response is not "oh my God! Can you believe what they just did?", it's "for f**k's sake, why must we put up with this predictably formulaic crap, season after season?" What have we done to deserve this? Why can't we have something new? Would it kill the writing staff to depart from the formula, to throw the rule book out of the window? Undoubtedly, many will be willing to swallow this rancid, festering pill because it immediately resolves the problem created by the extraneous narrative element but frankly, I just can't. This is as ludicrous a contrivance as The Kevin DanaJenny Show, if not more so. It feels like the writers were scrambling for something to do with the story, having backed themselves squarely into a corner, and they just picked the first thing that came to mind without stopping to think it through. There's nothing organic about this at all; it's a thoroughly transparent plot manoeuvre and a woefully atrocious one at that.

This takes so much wind out of the episode's sails that it almost negates the successful elements provided by the concurrent plot strand. To be fair to the show, the shoot outs between Bauer, Cole and the Redshirts and da evilz terrorists are quite niftily executed. Without the technological aid provided by CTU, without Chloe being able to predict the enemy's every move, there is some genuine peril created, a palpable level of tension and suspense, that is magnified greatly by Milan Cheylov's expert direction. He uses static and hand-held camera work to convey the uncertainty and chaos of the situation, and orchestrates the fire fight with the utmost of precision. Unfortunately, the writers prove themselves utterly incapable (again) of scribing something without lapsing into cliche. Agent Owen's death, as well as that of his compadre, is fraught with predictability: for the umpteenth time in televisual history, an inexperienced officer decides to ignore the sage advice of his superior and break out on his own, thereby compromising the entire mission. And then Owen does the same, running after the guy's bloodied carcass, desperate to save him. Sure, this might be passable, hell, it could even be poignant, if it weren't so ingrained in the viewer's conscience from years upon years of trite storytelling. There's no pathos at all because everything is so blase, so readable, so telegraphed. We know they're going to betray orders, we know they're going to die. There's nothing fulfilling about these beats at all. And to have Jack shot in the middle of the battle and survive again, getting up, effectively walking away and actually being coherent in the ambulance at episode's end is... well... there are barely the words. Why oh why oh why must the writers insist on putting Bauer in peril when it's obvious to everyone with a frontal lobe that he is in no danger whatsoever? Put Cole in the firing line, for God's sake! Anything else! Or hell, why not incapacitate Jack for the rest of the day? Give his gunning down some actual consequences? It's terribly easy to write this stuff, to rectify these problems, and so it's hard to believe that professional scriptwriters simply cannot do it. That they can't see that bringing Renee in just in the nick of time to fix everything is the furthest thing from satisfying. They just box the innovative away, much like DanaJennyMole hides Stephen Root's body behind, um, a rather conveniently shaped panel, not thinking beyond the immediate. And it's killing the show.

It really is a chore to sit through 24 these days. Episodes like this are so poorly written, so riddled with ill-thought-out developments, lazy cliches and objectionable plot beats that any semblance of enjoyment is utterly annihilated. The viewer is removed from his or her engagement and sits outside of the story, looking in on the continued downfall of this once mighty show. The car crash continues with every passing hour, occasionally offering shards of hope but mostly causing the programme to die a slow and painful death before our very eyes. Unless things pick up fast, and do so persistently, 24 really needs to be put out of its misery as soon as humanly possible... before we're all driven clinically insane by its absurdity. 3.1

Television review: Lost #609: 'Ab Aeterno'

609: 'Ab Aeterno'

Wr: Melinda Hsu Taylor & Greggory Nations
Dr: Tucker Gates

Synopsis: Richard Alpert faces a difficult choice.

Review: It's been a good four seasons since first we encountered the mysterious Richard Alpert and in that time, Lost has categorically refused to tell us all that much about him, skirting sheepishly around the issue of his apparent immortality and reducing his screen time and dialogue to the most scant and pointedly vague of references. It has been made abundantly clear that he is a character of the utmost importance, crucial to the inner fabric of the show and to unlocking the secrets behind the oh-so-beguiling mythology, but, teasingly, we've never been allowed access to these elements; instead, showrunners Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof have kept us quite literally in the dark, hungry for more, starving for answers... and now, the day has finally come where they are actually delivered. Yes, four years and God only knows how many episodes down the line, Richard Alpert is finally unmasked. 'Ab Aeterno' tells the story of his ill-fated journey to the Island and the circumstances through which he becomes the age-defying, eyeliner-sporting ubermensch that he is today. It's a fascinating tale, full of emotion, heartbreak, pathos and all-round lunacy, and one that provides the viewer with the finest episode of the season so far.

It is perhaps inevitable that Melinda Taylor and Greggory Nations's script succeeds so distinctly; by virtue of its subject matter, 'Ab Aeterno' holds the audience's attention from the get-go. This is hitherto unexplored territory, an aspect of the arc plot that has only been touched upon in years past, its surface barely scratched. We have never explored the minutiae of the Island prior to its more immediate 20th Century history, apart from a few minor potential glimpses during season five's sczhiophrenic jumps through time. To devote virtually an entire hour to a plot that takes us back to a time when the Island was apparently largely bereft of inhabitants is a giant Christmas present for Lostaholics, a juicy, jam-packed seven course meal of revelatory goodness. It is also avoids the problem of inherent predictabiloity that has plagued the show since the inception of the 'flash sideways' narratives; by taking us away from this technique, the writers lose the semblances of foreshadowing that featured so prominently in easrlier episodes (the character beats, for the most part, have been identical to those we have encountered continually since the first season). Here, everything is new, all territory is unchartered, so there is very little scope for anything to be telegraphed. The blank slate, as always, provides the most engaging and rewarding of televisual experiences.

Helping matter ssomewhat is the combination of solid scripting from Nations and Taylor and Nestor Carbonell's finest performance in four years on the show. Granted, he is given far more scope to impress since his total screen tiem here is probably the sum of his prior collective appearances, but boy, does he seize the opportunity. The character's story is essentially a rather simple,one, focusing on his love of and devotion to a woman named Isabella, and the tragedy that ensues as a result, but it is constructed so beautifully and with such a potent and believable injection of heart that it feels distinctly fresh. Carbonell brings Ricardo to life so vividly with every passing scene, humanising him right from the initiating moments. His parting words to his dying loover and subsequent desperation when faced with the unhelpful and obstructive machinations of the world's worst and most despotic physician are considerably moving, helping to set up the character's psychological struggle for the rest of the episode and encouraging the viewer to empathise with his plight. The continual bombardment of injustice magnifies this and imbues the narrative with a strong level of investment, encouraging the formation of allegiances.

It certainly helps that the antagonists are all heartless bastards, played to callous perfection by everyone involved. The heartless priest is deliciously evil, seemingly relishing Ricardo's plight, taking great pleasure in informing him that he has no hope for salvation and then setting him up for execution, while the slave-procuring British colonial officer is even better, seemingly offering a semblance of hope but actually reducing Ricardo to a life of servitude, barely any better than death. His methodical murder spree upon the crash landing is a superbly malicious touch, exemplifying the horror of the scenario, as well as seeming entirely realistic. This is one of the most disturbing sequences that Lost has served up in some time, precisely because it is so stark. The production crew do not shy away from delinieating the situation in all its gruesome glory and the perfunctory absence of humanity in the whole thing only intensifies matters. In contrast to the pleas of these tortured, enslaved human beings, the colonial officer is deathly silent, simply piercing their chests one by one, snuffing out their lives as if they were nothing more than insects underfoot.

Of course, he doesn't manage to enscare our Ricardo; thankfully, ol' Smokie intervenes and saves the day, laying the despotic crew to waste and dishing out a healthy helping of comeuppance. Yet again, the production crew outdo themselves, creating a deliciously intense bloodbath that makes great use of the Smoke Monster's minutiae to continue to captivate (it should probably be noted that the production values are actually fantastic throughout, particularly given that the script gives the crew the unenviable task of recreating 19th Century Spain, a challenge to which they rise admirably). What subsequently ensues is a fascinating recreation of the battle of wills to which we have previously been subjected, as Smokie tries to recruit Richard in an attempt to murder Jacob and thereby free himself from the confines of the Island. However, this particular power play is different in the sense that it allows us access to information that previously has not been forthcoming. This battle actually leads to some answers, the most intriguing of which, of course, is the idea that the Island is some sort of cork, keeping 'Hell' at bay. Jacob's explanation as to his purpose, and the Island's, may be more metaphorical than literal, especially given that he appears to tailor his phrasing to suit his audience, expressing complex concepts in language that Ricardo will understand (he is a religious man, after all), but it is no less satisfying, essentially suggesting that his purpose, if not that of his surroundings, is to make sure that the Man in Black remains trapped (or presumably, holy Hell will be unleashed). Whether or not a literal manifestation of Hell will occur if Smokie does escape doesn't seem to matter; the onus now is on the entrapment of UnLocke and the well-being, effectively, of us all. This gives the show a whole new dimension, intensifying the already palpable levels of tension and suspense by incorporating a macrocosmic tableaux.

The various insights that we are offered into Jacob and Smokie's troubled relationship really enrich the narrative. Marc Pellegrino and particularly Titus Welliver are absolutely excellent, side-stepping cliche and assurity to create a pair of deliciously ambivalent and impenetrable characters whose motives are never quite clear and who seem just that shade removed from the spoils of humanity. It is somewhat interesting that it is Jacob who is the most hostile of the two, taking significant umbridge tat the arrival of Ricardo at the statue, without even necessarily knowing his intentions. This makes us question the 'good/evil' binarity, demonstrating that neither character slots neatly into a black and white opposition, in spite of the intricacies of the mise en scene (all this white/black imagery and chiaroscuro is deliberately misleading, I'm telling you). The Man in Black, by contrast, is relatively clam and hospitable, despite his brutal murder of the Black Rock's crew, seemingly offering Richard nothing but the truth (although whether this is accurate or not is certainly debatable... was he coming to challenge Jacob's manifestation of Isabella?) This lends contemporary Richard's struggle all the more weight and makes his final breakdown and subsequent redemption/epiphany at the hands of Hurley, Jacob's apparent vessel, all the more moving, which is one hell of a feat in itself given that Carbonell gives it his all, perfectly conveying years of pent-up trauma. It is also rather interesting that all if this is wrapped up in some sort of theoretical moral debate between the two omnipresent characters, as Jacob brings individuals to the Island in order to prove to Smokie that there is good in all human beings, that they can make the correct moral decisions, while UnLocke just thinks we are all corruptable and therefore deserve nothing other than grizzly death. This essentially makes the Losties pawns and suggests, perhaps, that they will need to break away from the stranglehold of both parties if they ever wish to truly be free again.

All of this and we haven't even mentioned the delightful reveal regarding the birth of Richard's immortality, which comes about as an afterthought when Carbonell cannot think of anything else to ask his benefactor for, or even the insinuation that Smokie was brought to this place by Jacob and trapped there deliberately... or hell, even the fact that we now know how the statue got itself all demolished. In an episode so chocked to the brim with revelations, intriguing insights and Goddamn wonderful scripting and performances, it's easy to forget about certain aspects, simply because there's so much to devour. 'Ab Aeterno' is one of those instalments, never ceasing to hold your attention throughout its forty five minutes and providing a brilliantly fulfilling viewing experience that leaves you reeling and desperate for more. This is the sort of episode we've been waiting for all season, kicking the arc plot well and truly up the backside and thrilling at every turn. Nestor Carbonell is brilliant, Taylor and Nations are genuii and Lost, once again, is the best damn show on television. 9.6

Television review: Desperate Housewives #617: 'Chromolume #7'

617: 'Chromolume #7'

Wr: Marco Pennette
Dr: Lonny Price

Synopsis: Gabrielle and Angie head out to New York to track down Ana and Danny, and a chance encounter with supermodels Paulina Porizkova and Heidi Klum, Gaby's former co-workers, leads the former top model to an unexpected revelation about herself.
In the meantime, Mike tries to prove to Susan that he is a man with a capital "M" after he feels emasculated by her, and the Scavo family is surprised to see Preston (former regular castmember Max Carver) back from Europe... accompanied by a hot russian gold digger (guest star Helena Mattson as Irina). Bree discovers a surprising connection to her new employee (guest star Sam Page) and Katherine feels confused regarding her feelings towards Robin (guest star Julie Benz).

Review: For all it was a novel gimmick six years ago, the concept of using the names of numbers from Sondheim musicals as episode titles is starting to wear a little thin. This week's Housewives really does stretch the idea to its absolute limits: 'Chromolume #7'? Really? Oh sure, there's a vague semblance of significance in there somewhere but it's hardly as if there's a direct link to the episode's minutiae. It's an inherently ludicrous title anyway, sounding like some sort of knock-off shampoo or conditioner and therefore makes any attempt to review the episode somewhat difficult to take seriously. In order to best negate this problem then, this review shall hitherto refer to #617 as 'The One With the World's Worst Stick-On Moustache'.

And while we're on the subject of that atrocity, the Scavo storyline lapses somewhat this week, relying on a series of all-too-familiar beats to generate comedy and conflict. Honestly, the Housewives writing staff have to hold the world record for most uses of a disposable ancillary character to upset the functionality of a happy family unit. Preston's latest conquest, the beautiful foreign student who, you know, just has to be out of the boy's league because, let's face it, he's that ugly (anyone else find that rather insulting? What's to say she wouldn't simply find him attractive? Stranger things have happened! But no, there has to be an ulterior motive!), has the longevity and staying power of your average parliamentary MP. She's a guaranteed goner within a few weeks, after Lynette's managed to expose her duplicity and restore the comfortable equilibrium of the storyline. As with Gaby's druggie housemate or, indeed, Porter's last lover (the delightful older woman), the plot is just so ineffectual, precisely because there will be no lasting impact. It's a throwaway development, designed purely to fill some time, and it's a bloody lazy one at that. Every step of the story is shot through with predictability: the engagement announcement (did anybody actually believe that Preston was walking into his parents' bedroom to tell them that he'd came to his senses?), Lynette's attempt to disturb their happiness, the girl's discovery regarding the ring... we've seen all of this so many times before that it's just so darn tiresome.

But perhaps I just expect too much from the show. For a great many, enjoyment seems to be derived precisely from the familiarity that it offers; there's a comfort, apparently, in the ease with which the narratives can be predicted. Surprise, suspense and challenging concepts just don't factor in; viewers crave the easy ride, the ability to kick back, relax and let the mindlessness wash over them. Which explains elements such as the Bolen narrative that essentially amount to proverbial shrugs of the shoulder. For all it is refreshing to be treated to a completely different locale, wherein the production crew do an admirable job of manipulating the mise en scene to convey the hustle and bustle of city life (contrasting nicely with the suburban scenes), the sojourn to New York ultimately proves rather pointless. Sure, Danny comes home, thanks to his mother's Machiavellian manipulations and Gaby is able to have a semi-sort-of epiphany regarding the downfall of her modelling career, but honestly, how long are either of these going to last? Young Tyler will undoubtedly be back in Ana's arms within weeks, because the show can't seem to keep them apart, while Gaby's revelations never seen to have any lasting impact because she returns to her selfish, self-preoccupied ways at the start of every instalment.

It's difficult to take any of her more moralistic beats seriously, especially when they're prefaced by hopelessly wooden cameos from high-profile supermodels. Yes, it's hello Heidi Klum and good morning Gossip Weekly. Talk about your shameless publicity stunts, dear me... oh, and speaking of, in case you've been hiding under a rock for the past month, you'll surely be aware that ol' Fancypants Barrowman is making a guest appearance in several forthcoming episodes, and you can bet your bottom dollar that he's going to play Patrick, Angie's erstwhile lover and favourite psycholoon. The seeds are sown for his introduction here as the Generic Conniving Neighbour informs him of Angie's presence in New York and her subsequent destination. It's just a shame that the reveals themselves, the impart of information pertaining to the Bolan family history, are ultimately rather blase. There's little new offered here and certainly nothing that the viewer isn't able to glean from the tidbits offered up in weeks past. Patrick is Danny's father? Well, I never! That's like, Sixth Sense twist, that is, yeah! Jesus.

Still, at least this is a little better than Susan and Mike's narrative, which essentially amounts to load of unnecessary macho posturing and ludicrously over-the-top gumf in which Delfino attempts to prove his rugged masculinity to his wife by throwing her on the kitchen table and dominating her. Yeah, Mike, you go for it mate! Stick it in her while she's pinned down! That'll teach the bitch to disparage your manliness! 'In touch with his feminine side' indeed... how dare that trumped-up little harlot! Woman, get in the kitchen and make your man some pie... now! Euck. Admittedly, it should be acknowledged that this is, at the very least, within character for Mike but the problem, as always, is that the writers stretch credulity far too thin by indulging in the hyperbolic; by making the characters take extreme, and clearly unbelievable, actions to rectify the issues at hand. It's like Andrew's drunken outburst at work: the worst case scenario just had to happen, the trajectory had to end with the most foreseeable conclusion. It's not really a good week or the gays (again) since Pyfrom is forced to adopt the unlikeable and unstable veneer that he managed to shake many years ago, and the only other discernible representation is the hideously camp and bitchy fashion friend of Gaby's who, despite never vocalising his gayness, exhibits all the semiotic conventions of 'queer' that have dogged visual manifestations of alternative sexualities since the fifties. But at least Bree's narrative gets to go somewhere moderately interesting by proxy, since creepy new guy turns out to be an illegitimate child of Rex's, putting a much different spin on things and displaying a whole heck of a lot more promise than we received during his introduction in last week's episode.

It's difficult to feel much enthusiasm for 'Chr...', sorry, 'The One with the World's Worst Stick-On Moustache.' While the episode does move certain season-spanning narrative threads along somewhat, it doesn't take them anywhere particularly interesting, choosing instead to traverse roads well-travelled, conforming to a telegraphed telemetry that is easily readable and that therefore feels rather lazy. The hour seems to think it is doing important things - teasing Patrick's appearance, delivering Angie's confession - but they ultimately turn out to be ineffectual, featuring nothing we haven't already gleaned from earlier narrative beats. And the story isn't concerning itself with the arc, it's either resorting to cheap gimmickry in an attempt to bolster ratings figures (Heidi Klum? Really??) or hastily throwing together a load of well-worn, tired out ideas and hoping they'll produce something fresh. Which they don't. Inevitably. Desperate Housewives just feels very blase at the moment, resting squarely on its laurels and lacking any real 'oomph' to keep viewers talking. And no, Katherine's continued flirtations with lesbianism don't count. And nor does that damn 'tache. Sigh. 5.8

Television review: Lost #608: 'Recon'

608: 'Recon'

Wr: Jim Galasso & Elizabeth Sarnoff
Dr: Jack Bender

Synopsis: Locke trusts Sawyer with a mission.

Review: It's been four long, arduous weeks since last we spent some quality time with one Mr. James Ford and frankly, it's shown. For all 'Dr. Linus' and 'Sundown' prove to be strong, capable episodes in their own right, pushing the arc plot along nicely and unloading a whackload of tension on us to boot, there has been something missing from the scripts, a minor hole where Josh Holloway's furrowed, insult-spouting brow should be. It's something of an understatement to say that his episodes are generally some of the best that Lost has to offer; you only have to look at last season's superlative 'LaFleur' for evidence of that. The character is so inherently intriguing, so pleasingly rich and complex, that he's effectively overflowing with possibility. And of course, Holloway's portrayal is always perfectly pitched, expertly marrying ruthlessness with heart to create someone truly human. It should come as little surprise, then, that 'Recon' is an effortlessly solid episode, managing to maintain considerable momentum through the integration of a captivating flash-sideways with the ever-expanding on-Island soiree.

Thankfully, once again, our latest glimpse into life without the plane crash proves to be laden with contradictory tidbits and interesting dramatic decisions. For all the character beats essentially remain the same, as we Sawyer in the throes of trying desperately to locate that sorry SOB Anthony Cooper, 'Recon' manages to disguise its potential redundancy by turning the minutiae on their collective head. This is an altogether fresh approach to the Sawyer storyline, as we see Ford living a life, not of crime, but of law and order, working to bust those duplicitous con artists and protect those that might be hurt as a result of their activities. It's certainly a fascinating and entirely logical notion that James would essentially be faced with a choice, that the dark secrets of his past would pull him one way or the other. What's crucial, however, is that his father's homicide/suicide informs the very fibre of his being, that it transforms him into the person we see struggling to make up for the event, to do something about it, to make himself feel like he can, in some way, eke out his revenge. And for all it may seem like he is living a better life in this reality, that whatever changed the course of events has led him to a more law-abiding and therefore fulfilling existence, the script still makes a point of highlighting the melancholy of his plight. He may be living a more moral life, but it's certainly no less troubled. It's a parallel that may be central to every flash-sideways; in fact, it may be their central motif. Are Lindelof and Cuse trying to demonstrate that the Losties' lives are better together, better for the tragic nature of their collective encounter?

Whatever the allegory, there's no doubt that this is all particularly powerful stuff. Our opening flash-sideways sequence is an absolute treat, playing off beats that effectively form the backbone of this character's plot arc (the money falling out of the case, the 'you weren't supposed to see that', even the rebuke form guest star Jodi Lynn O'Keefe, a.k.a. Psycho Gretchen from Prison Break) and then side-swiping the viewer with that deliciously unexpected reveal. As we lapse so easily into the comfortability offered by these minutiae, the twist has an even greater impact, which, in turn, enriches the quality of the story. Then, we have the inclusion of Miles; by this point, I've learned to stop questioning the presence of all of these ancillary characters and simply embrace them for the serendipitous opportunities that they provide. Plus, these guys work so well together that it's a joy to see them given more screen time; their chemistry is so damn palpable, it's hard to know whether Straum is going to punch or kiss Sawyer when he throws him up against a wall. Of course, the latter would probably put something of a spanner in the works vis a vis the development of Sawyer's potential relationship with good ol' Charlotte - it's very nice to see Rebecca Mader again - who provides an interesting contrast to the other women in Ford's life and, refreshingly, rebukes him after his unwarranted outburst. You need to do a damn sight better than a crate of beer and a sunflower to impress this gal, mister. However this develops, the coupling is an intriguing one and works well, though how this will play with Farraday (who you know is just around the corner) is anybody's guess...

On-Island, dramatic developments continue apace as Sawyer becomes the first of our candidates to interact with the newly-arrived Widmore Sub Crew. Ford's visit to Hydra Island is a nice little nostalgia trip, allowing the production crew to linger lovingly on those bloody cages from season three, and that horrible dress that Kate was once forced to wear too. It seems the suggestion is being made that there may still be something between Austen and Sawyer, particularly given that they feature prominently at hour's end, with Holloway promising to set Smokey against Charles to allow the two of them to escape, and quite literally running into her on the mean streets of LA in his flash-sideways. Still, this isn't the most interesting aspect of this narrative component, oh no. That honour goes to the presence of Alan Dale, who manages to turn a scene in which he has a minimal amount of dialogue into one of the most meaningful sequences in the episode. This guy really is brilliant, knowing exactly when and where to pitch his most crucial emotional beats. The essential substance of all of this is fascinating too: is Widmore's purpose here to eradicate Smokey? Does he wish to control the Island in Jacob's absence? What, essentially, is his plan?

Undoubtedly, these are questions that will be answered in the weeks to come, along with the
all-important issue of unLocke's potential existence in the outside world and exactly what in the holy Hell is going on with Claire and Sayid. The former appears to be the dictionary definition of schizophrenic, holding Kate's hand one minute and attempting to stab her in the neck the next, while Jarrah's eerie calmness and reticence while Austen is under peril is just plain weird. Kudos to Naveen Andrews for successfully putting the proverbial willies (so to speak) up every single member of the viewing audience. Oh, and speaking of creepy, just what is up with the idea that Smokey has a mother? All this talk of deranged women is patently bizarre... are we going to be subjected to some sort of Black Smoke flashback/sideways/semi-circle at some point?

'Recon' is very much a transitionary episode, setting the wheels in motion for the implementation of a number of saliant narrative points: Widmore's return to the Island, Smokey's attempts to escape, Claire and Sayid's batshit craziness. All of this is wonderfully intriguing and pointedly structured so that, when coupled with a thematically familiar but intricately different 'what if...?' storyline, it creates a deliciously filling and rewarding whole. It also contains an absolute whackload of Josh Holloway which, frankly, can only be a bloody good thing. Another triumph. 9.0

Television review: 24 #812: '3am - 4am'

812: '3am - 4am'

Wr: Chip Johannessen & Patrick Harbinson
Dr: Nelson McCormick

Synopsis: While Jack and Cole team up in the field to shield New York from the calamitous threat, a hostage situation has CTU completely stressed out. Meanwhile, unrelenting parole officer Prady presses on in his investigation, and unexpected developments send the Hassan family into a major tailspin.

Review: Well. Can you say schizophrenic, much? After last week's truly abominable '2am - 3am', an episode virtually bereft of any redeeming features whatsoever, it's difficult to believe that this is even the same show, let alone the same season. To say that Chip Johannessen and Patrick Harbinson's script is an improvement is the equivalent of suggesting that it's 'a bit hot' at the equator. This is so much better, in every possible way, that you have to question how it is that dross like the previous instalment is able to make it past the storyboard stage without someone noticing that, you know, it's a right load of old cack. Of course, this being contemporary 24, '3am - 4am' certainly isn't without its problems. In fact, there are a considerable number of dubious narrative decisions and hokey extraneous incidents that impact upon the all-important dramatic drive of the episode, but at least they don't encompass the entire hour. Where last week, barely a beat went by without the viewer wanting to lobotomise themselves with an icepick, here, the bulk of the script is concerned with the furtherance of the central narrative, and thankfully, for the most part, it does a fairly good job of it. It's just a bit troublesome that the programme can oscillate so dramatically across both ends of the spectrum because, ultimately, it's this sort of inconsistency that begets frustration... and we all know where that leads, don't we boys and girls?

Still, to the appraisal. '3am - 4am' succeeds largely as a result of the predominance of the terrorist threat. For the first time in one hell of a while, the script feels like it has focus and isn't scrambling around trying to fill time between dramatic developments. Johannessen and Harbinson channel the majority of the loose narrative strands into the kidnapping of Hassan's daughter, which has the dual effect of concentrating the viewer's attentions and amplifying the impact and importance of the IRK's actions. While the revelation that Tarin is actually a mole is distinctly disappointing, since it's probably the most predictable plot development this side of an episode of Days of our Lives, the script doesn't spend too much time dwelling on the issue and is able to disguise its regrettable nature to a certain extent through the injection of a substantial amount of tension. As soon as Tarin drops the act and begins marshaling his lover towards her fate, things become a whole heck of a lot more interesting. The car chase sequence is fairly well handled, with the use of multiple perspectives via the ever-reliable 'visual boxes' serving to intensify levels of suspense, and it's good to see everyone's emotional investment contribute to the scene. Naturally, Sutherland and Prinze are excellent as the driven, determined agents, but credit must certainly go to Kapoor and Zadagen, whose successful portrayal of a mother and father whose world is effectively falling down around them leads to a number of very strong sequences, the most notable of which are their confrontation with Bauer and Cole when they reveal that they failed in their mission, and everything that follows once Kaila is ransomed by the IRK. It is a bit disappointing that the outcome of the car chase is a foregone conclusion before it even begins (as soon as that underpass rolls around, everyone with a functioning frontal lobe knows that the good guys will lose them in it... gah, what a cliche!), and that CTU's efforts to rescue Kaila from the hotel are hampered by a ludicrously one-dimensional rogue police officer who seems to think that he knows better than the bloody uber-trained terrorism experts (talk about your one-dimensional ciphers, jeez... and did anyone else think his name was Sergeant Anus? No? Oh well), but on the whole, this is pretty entertaining stuff. Hell, I'll take it over The Dana Walsh Hour any day.

Things only get better once the aforementioned ransoming begins. The visual orchestration of this sequence is expertly handled, first-time director Nelson McCormick doing a top notch job of marrying stark, harrowing verisimilitude with powerful emotional gravitas. It's encouraging that 24 refuses to shy away from the horror of the situation, presenting us with a rather bleak representation of Kaila's ordeal. The actress is very good here, conveying the character's desperation and turmoil with a degree of temperance so that things don't descend into the hyperbolic, while the simple decision to pop a balaclava over the head of the 'head goon' works wonders for the impact of the scene, magnifying its eeriness and making the threat seem all the more palpable. Hell, he even gets a plastic bag out and starts suffocating the poor gal which, while hardly likely to signify the end of her character, makes for a powerful moment nonetheless. Harbinson and Johannessen are particularly adept at manufacturing intrigue here, largely thanks to the addition of a number of either unexplained or unpredictable diversions. First, we have the incorporation of the rather ominous 'File 33' which, having never previously been a factor in the story, certainly piques the viewer's interest. Its ultimate purpose is also somewhat refreshing; I, for one, believed it would be some sort of proposal for a nuclear weapons programme (thereby tying this into the core motifs of the season) but surprisingly, the script actually avoids the predictable. Who would've thunk, eh?

The same could be said for the trajectory of the kidnapping itself; the decision to allow Kaila and Tarin to escape initially comes across as a rather unusual one, especially given that other developments seem to point towards the intervention of CTU (more on that later) and that the 'File 33' strand could have led to a decidedly intriguing tangent of its own. It's different but plausible and is executed particularly well; it's just unfortunate that the writers choose to perform another U-turn and manufacture an ancillary twist that isn't as successful. The revelation that Tarin is still alive and that Kaila was set up is frankly groan-inducing, feeling far too artificial to be of any real value. It's another example of the kind of overboard oneupmanship that's plagued 24 since day one, wherein the impact of a twist is considered to be of more importance than the actual logic behind its implementation. Granted, yes, we can hardly have the good guys save the day with half of the season left to go, but at least have the decency to make these things feel like less of a cheat. And I'm reserving judgment on what they've used Kaila for: for all McCormick's orchestration of the CTU 'blackout' is highly effective and somewhat original (well, for this show at least), the viewer is certainly forgiven for feeling rather tired of the beat itself. Honestly, how many seasons has the Counter Terrorist Unit been subject to attack now? Do we really need to see it again? "Ah, but it's an EMP!", I hear you cry, "They've never done that before!" And sure, I'll give you that. Hell, I'll even acknowledge that such a development may have potential; if we can get rid of the magic technology that enables Chloe And The Gang to resolve every problem within minutes, we could have a rather refreshing show on our hands. But do you really hold out hope? Really? Is it not far likelier that Jack and his buds will just use all the even-more-hyper-advanced-super-tech housed at the NSA, thereby rendering this whole plotline utterly worthless? What do you think, gentle viewer?

To be honest, however brief a stop-gap this technological impedance proves to be, it couldn't have come at a better time. The amount of patently unbelievable uses for the CTU systems in this episode is enough to give your average engineer a few brain hemorrhages. Once again, every security feed in the land proves to be subject to the whim of Chloe O'Brien, whose magical ability to 'tap into' just about anything (hospital cameras, traffic cams, your Fujifilm 200) is trotted out for the umpteenth infuriating time; the 'quick fix' drones are provided with their most prominent showcase to date, popping all over the place in an attempt to amplify the tension of the car chase sequence, but actually just serving to mildly distract the viewer with their eerie 'Jesus-eye' perspectives (credit, for the second week running, to the excellent 2guystalking podcast for that one); but perhaps the most offensive of the lot is the patently ridiculous load of garbage that flows freely from Arlo's mouth when he comes up with a way to locate Kaila and her kidnappers. He 'isolated a subway noise and is cross referencing with train positions'? Oh come on! 1. Is it even likely that there would be any cars running at 3.30 in the morning? 2. If there are are passenger services, couldn't it also be possible that a freight train/cleaning vehicle is being used while the place is shut? And if so, cross-referencing with timetables would be insufficient... a whole process of acquiring information would need to begin, and third and most important, how is he able to 'isolate a subway noise' anyway? How ludicrously vague is that? Why can't we have something more realistic and less half-baked? Is it too much to ask?

Well, at least it isn't My Name is Dana, eh? To be fair to 24, we don't get a great deal of it this week but sadly, what we do get continues to significantly sub par. First, there's the continuation of the irritatingly irrelevant inter-office paradigm shift, wherein Arlo, quite logically actually, asks Chloe whom he is required to report to following Dana's demotion. Instead of simply giving him a straightforward answer, she puts her petulant head on, pouts and starts moaning about how 'we're in the middle of a crisis' and that Arlo effectively shouldn't be bothering her. The problem here, as with Cole's rebuke of Jenny in the lift last week, is that by referencing the fact that something is extraneous, the writers draw the viewer's attention to it and therefore amplify its impact. Yeah great, you should get on with it! And now! Stop harping on about it! Worse still, obviously, is the furtherance of the Kevin Wade plot. Yup, the parole officer arrives at CTU at 3.15 in the morning, desperate to find out what happened to the man he's been charged with, despite the fact that he has free will and can pretty much do what he wants. And okay, okay, so perhaps the Nick thing is a fairly logical way of explaining his presence but to be honest, no one actually gives a shit. Stephen Root may be a solid actor, and his portrayal may actually be moderately enjoyable, but the whole strand is so categorically objectionable that it doesn't matter. Every time Dana's blonde locks cascade over the screen, the dramatic momentum grinds to an unforgivable halt, removing the viewer from his or her engagement with the narrative and negating our enjoyment of the episode. Kill. This. Story. Dead. Now. There's plenty decent story to go round.

It's something of a relief that '3am - 4am' is a substantial improvement on Evan Katz and David Fury's preceding effort. Last week's hour was so unequivocally bad that it's unsurprising that 24 is losing viewers in droves, and any further slide down this slippery slope could have resulted in a truly sorry state of affairs for the show. Thankfully, Johannessen and Harbinson's script rectifies some of the problems that dogged '2am - 3am', concentrating squarely on the central terrorist threat and doing so with impressive gusto, providing a dramatic development that concentrates the focus of the story and provides a palpable and enjoyable level of tension and suspense. It isn't without its problems, of course; once again, we simply cannot get rid of The Dana Walsh Show, and every scene in which she appears seems to obliterate the episode's momentum, and some of the other dramatic decisions are distinctly questionable. Still, at least things appear to be on the up. Let's just hope that, as currently appears to be the trend, 24 doesn't pull a fast one on us and unleash its worst ever hour next week. Fingers crossed guys, fingers crossed. 7.2

Television review: Lost #607: 'Dr. Linus'

607: 'Dr. Linus'

Wr: Edward Kitsis & Adam Horowitz
Dr: Mario Van Peebles

Synopsis: Ben deals with the consequences of an uncovered lie.

Review: Benjamin 'Henry Gale' Linus has consistently proven to be one of the most interesting characters that Lost has on its decidedly lengthy roster. Ever since he made his grand entrance mid-season two, falling out of a balloon and into the Hatch-obsessed lives of our favourite castaways, he's baffled, beguiled, intrigued, frustrated and downright mesmerised every last one of us, roping us in to a tragic story of misspent, underappreciated youth and desperately power-hungry adulthood. Michael Emerson has truly made the character his own, to the extent that it's hard to conceive of the show without him, despite the fact that we spent an entire year and a half unaware of his existence. And it's a further testament to the strength of his ability as an actor that he manages to generate ambiguity with every line, ambivalent emotions with every nuance. After almost four seasons, we still approach his character apprehensively, refusing to trust his assertions and uncertain of his motives, even with the most insignificant of decisions. This rich tapestry is what makes the guy so much fun, and it's why, when the news was released that hour seven of this final season would be titled 'Dr. Linus', fanboys, casual viewers and pervy-Other-fanciers alike jumped for joy, rejoicing in the possibility of something truly captivating.

And to be fair, that's pretty much what we get. Kitsis and Horowitz's script is a distinctly well-structured piece, counterpointing a notably unusual 'flash sideways' with a character-building on-Island narrative that allows the viewer to appreciate the depth and complexity inherent in Ben's methodical, but substantitive, transformation. This juxtaposition proves to be somewhat enlightening, allowing us to see that really, deep down, good ol' Linus does have a moral centre, a functioning heart. The story first illustrates this through the minutiae of the 'what if...?' scenario, wherein Ben has wound up teaching AP History at a local school. Dressed in conventional faculty garb and organising an after-hours club for truly enthusiastic students, this Benjamin Linus appears to be the antithesis of the man we've come to know and sorta love, lacking the spinelessness and tenacity demonstrated by the so-called leader of the Others. The principal cuts him down when he tries to defend his club, and he appears defeated, resorting to making underhanded comments once the guy's walked away ("it's Dr. Linus!") and moaning to his aging father, who actually seems to be remotely interested in what his son has to say, unlike the man whose life was essentially torn apart by the DHARMA Initiative. It's a somewhat intriguing development this, since the dialogue indicates that the pair did go there, all those years ago, but that they left; a decision that hints at an altogether different reason for the deviationin the outcome of events to the idea that Juliet simply succeeded in detonating the bomb. Still, as is perhaps to be expected, it doesn't take long for Ben's cunning to make an appearance and, significantly, as the suggestion of a coup is planted in his head by one John 'No, I'm Not Smokey' Locke, the cogs begin to turn, plans begin to be drawn and soon enough, Linus is relishing every last morsel of gossip that Alex, his young protege, can throw at him. While this plot can occasionally seem a little superfluous, lacking somewhat in the riproaring stakes, it is, nevertheless, perfectly in tune with the character, befitting of his established proclivities. It is also one of the more thematically interesting of the 'flash sideways' to date, precisely because its beats generally aren't ones that we've procrastinated over substantially before. Whereas we spent an entire three years (and probably more) focusing on the psychological ennui of the core Losties, we've never really explored Ben's 'issues' in any significant detail, having only been subjected to three Linus-centric episodes in the show's history, only one of which was a flashback (season three's tremendous 'The Man Behind the Curtain'). Consequently, a concentration on his obsession with power is far more intriguing than an exploration of Kate's penchant for running away or Jack's daddy issues.

The ultimate conclusion of the narrative - that Linus really isn't such a bad ol' chap after all, and that when faced with a sticky moral decision, he may just come down on the side of good - is a particularly satisfying one. The pay-off works distinctly well in the flash-sideways as the outcome is never particularly obvious; there are no signposts to indicate that he will ultimately choose to ease the pressure on the principal. Granted, he goes ahead with his blackmailing attempt, craving the desk for his own, and it is only when the man makes a counter-threat of his own that he begins to back down, but it's the nature of the threat that matters most. The principal strikes at Linus's compassion for his protege, at his desire to see those that have a gift for his subject actually succeed. And of course, the fact that this individual happens to be Alex Rousseau only adds a greater level of potency to events. On Island, Alex was his adopted child; off, well, who knows exactly what her situation is? Intriguingly, we're left with very little information in this regard, which is perhaps a good sign for a future episode. It's certainly pleasing to see the actress back after such a substantial absence, and while it does seem a bit of a stretch that she just so happens to effectively be on Linus's doorstep, it's highly likely that there's more going on here; that somehow, the DHARMA Initiative/Island connection may still play a role in aligning the lives of the characters. Importantly, she is the thread connecting this story to on-Island Ben's narrative, as it becomes evident, from the epiphianic conversation that he has with Illyana, that the execution of his daughter has been the driving force for his transformation. It still cuts right to the heart of his being, still traumatises after all these years. Emerson is unequivocally brilliant in this scene, perfectly pitching the character's emotions to provide the most potent level of resonance, making his confession that "no one will have [him]" truly heartbreaking. In a hugely significant moment, Ben actually turns his back on UnLocke, reinforcing his loyalty to Jacob (and through him, the Island), despite Smokey issuing him probably the most attractive offer he could hope to receive: leadership of the Island. Given his penchant for power, that's no small feat, but it doesn't seem an unusual decision. Instead, this reads as the logical conclusion of a journey that began many seasons ago, providing a wonderfully satisfying 'fist in the air' moment: Ben actually did the right thing for once! Get. The f**k. In. Of course, whether anyone will truly appreciate it is another matter altogether; for all Illyana stops shackling him and forcing him to dig his own grave (morbid, much?), and the jibes from the others cease (Sun lets him help!), when Jack and Hurley are reunited with their long-lost pals in a scene out of season one, complete with moderately cheesy piano underscore and slow motion camera movements, he's still on the periphery, forced to look in as everyone else experiences serendippity and euphoria. He's still, essentially, an outcast... but perhaps that will change, with time.

The episode's other major talking point is the all-too-brief sequence of scenes between Jack, Hurley and the ever-beguiling Richard. Finally, we get some idea as to the character's history, establishing that his perpetual youth was a 'gift' from Jacob, and that, as with Dogan and probably countless others, the man was instructed to abandon his life in order to come to the Island... a decision for which he would ultimately be rewarded, but that sadly, Jacob never got round to bothering to tell him. Yet again, we have a character whose loyalties are being tested, who is beginning to question the motivations and machinations of an individual who is supposed to be a force for good, which only serves to strengthen the complexity of the narrative. It's a somewhat interesting decision to have Jack direct Richard back onto his path, to restore at least a portion of his faith, in a scene that says a great deal about the purpose of the fatal crash of Flight 815. As the dynamite is unable to detonate, we are once again reminded that these characters are on-Island for a very distinct reason, that they've essentially been directed there, which ties back to the cameo appearances that Jacob made in their earlier lives in the season five finale. Granted, the 'dynamite detonation' sequence lacks a certain level of dramatic tension because Jack's life is never in any actual danger (come on... are you telling me that Matthew Fox is going to snuff it at this stage of the game? Please! Season finale at the earliest!), but this still remains a distinctly intriguing sequence; about as intriguing, it should be said, as the idea that Jacob was 'the closest thing that [Illyana] had to a father' or that Widmore has finally managed to locate the Island. This would undoubtedly have been a killer cliffhanger, the sort that leaves you desperate for more, if the production crew hadn't decided to include Alan Dale's name in the opening credits, thereby spoiling the fact that he makes an appearance for any viewers who are aware as to which role he plays, causing us to spend the majority of 'Dr. Linus' anticipating his arrival. When he hadn't shown up by the forty minute mark, it kinda became obvious where he was going to make an appearance. Oh Lost, when will you learn? (Probably at the same time that the writers cotton on to the fact that Sun's only line of dialogue is "have you seen my husband?"... and thanks to the guy who writes the TV.com Lost reviews for that one.)

'Dr. Linus' is another strong episode from a show that continues to impress, even at this very late stage in the game. For arguably the first time since 'LA X', the content of the 'flash sideways' never feels underwhelming, and this is largely thanks to its concentration on a character with whom we have spent very little time in seasons past. Ben Linus is arguably one of the most fascinating creatures that Lost has ever thrown our way, and Michael Emerson could well be the most talented shark in the show's quite considerable acting pool. Once again, he rises to every challenge with the most delectable of aplomb, and pulls off a multi-layered and highly effective performance that perfectly delineates the journey that the character has undertaken since those fatal moments in 'The Shape of Things To Come'. There's an intriguing B-storyline that edges things forward for Jack, Hurley and Richard, and for all the cliffhanger is ruined by a poor production decision, it nevertheless remains solid enough to make us yearn for more. This may not reach the lofty heights of 'Sundown' and 'The Substitute', but it's damn impressive all the same. Keep it coming, Lost. Don't do a 'Tricia Tanaka' on us now. 9.0

Television review: 24 #811: '2am - 3am'

811: '2am - 3am'

Wr: Evan Katz & David Fury
Dr: Nelson McCormick

Synopsis: Jack works to resolve the bomb situation that has come up with Marcos isolating himself in the pressure chamber while terrorists talk him through how to manually arm the bomb. Meanwhile, Cole and Dana arrive back at CTU to face Hastings regarding their absence.

Review: Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. And you were doing so well, 24. Last week's moderately entertaining instalment demonstrated a much more concerted effort to maintain some semblance of momentum, edging that ever-so-slightly important central narrative forward a few paces and actually managing to engage the viewer, rather than cause us to throw the entire contents of our living rooms at our television sets. We were mostly free of extraneous, uninteresting interpersonal rubbish and treated to forty minutes of solid anti-terrorist action. And if only we could say the same of hour eleven. Where Manny Coto and Brannon Braga succeeded, Evan Katz and David Fury spectacularly fail; '2am - 3am' is about as far removed from entertaining as you can get, featuring so little of any consequence that it's almost as if the episode is inviting you to tune out, goading you into giving up on its catastrophically lacklustre carcass.

Really, where oh where do we begin? Perhaps with the script's predominant feature: the woeful regurgitation of The Kevin/Danajenny/Cole Show. Honestly, the amount of screen time devoted to the furtherance of this utter and complete waste of space is actually dumbfounding. We effectively begin the episode submerged in its detritus: after an all-too-brief sojourn around the bizarre pressure chamber (sound tracked to eerie perfection by Sean Callery, it must be said), Sackhoff and Prinze engage in one of the most horribly protracted, and woefully forced, two-handers ever to grace a storyboard. We accompany the characters as they embark upon their CTU elevator ride and just when you think it's all over, when the conversation falls silent and the 'dramatic' (hah!) pauses begin, the doors open, they step out, and who is there to greet them? Guardian columnist Charlie Brooker with an axe, dripping with the sodden blood of every other pointless character that currently populates the show? No, it's Hunchback Hastings, ready to read yet another set of clumsy lines straight from his autocue, demonstrating no semblance of acting ability whatsoever! Just what we all need! This is truly horrible, horrible stuff and what's worse is that Katz and Fury make an active point of signalling this fact to their audience. At the very beginning of their elevator ride, as Dana begins harping on about the mess that the characters have just dived straight into, Cole tells her that they have more important things to worry about... like, you know, the threat of a nuclear dirty bomb being detonated in the city. You know, that troublesome little job that they're both supposed to be doing. Effectively, he's turning to the viewer and highlighting the fact that this entire storyline is extraneous, that it's wasting valuable time that could be better spent dealing with the actual plot. How about making no reference at all? How about some silence in the lift, conveying the gulf that now exists between the two? Ah, but we couldn't have that, because Prinze needs to be given awkward, hokum lines like "I wouldn't have done what I did if I didn't still love you", that we're supposed to care about but to which, really, we don't give a crap. This is made out to be the big, perfunctory pay-off at the culmination of their conversation, a moment of clarity and euphoria, but it has no impact whatsoever. Essentially, it's just another kick to the face, a reminder that no matter how much we may crave it, the show simply will not get on with what it's supposed to be doing.

And of course, as Mykelti Williamson traipses onto the proverbial stage, things only get progressively worse. Choice lines like "you two have holy hell to pay for" and my personal favourite, "if you weren't the best at what you do, you'd both be out on your asses" are delivered with such a remarkable dearth of naturalism that it's hard to believe Williamson is actually a human being, capable of processing and understanding emotion and behaviour. It doesn't help that the content of his dialogue is patently ridiculous either. Thankfully, he notices that Dana has had a change of clothes, but then proceeds to brush their entire disappearing act aside in the interests of 'getting through the threat', failing to ask any questions about where they've been or what they were doing and instead, just having a bit of a harsh word, demoting Ms Walsh so that she's working under Chloe and sending Cole out to assist Jack. Huh?! Your top agents have just buggered off without consulting anyone! They've been gone for hours and your investigation has been significantly hampered as a result! Doesn't that count for anything? Wouldn't it be possible to get anyone else in your super hi-tech, state-of-the-art, brand-spanking-new Counter Terrorist Unit to step in for the two of them while you, oh I dunno, interrogate their asses? Or send them home on probation? Anything?! Is CTU really that under-staffed?! And as for the actual demotion, God, this is infuriating. Dana actually has a bit of a strop when she's made to take orders from Chloe... wouldn't she simply be happy just to have a job after the Kevin debacle?! And that conversation between the two of them is just plain horrible; Chloe's assertion that "it must be hard for you, what with being demoted and everything" and the added "hang in there" is a further waste of space, failing to manufacture even the slightest shred of engagement. The last thing any of us need is for the show to get into some sort of 'war of the geeky intellects' between the two analysts, simply because one of them hasn't quite done something right. It's mindless, it's pap and it has no place in 24.

It actually beggars belief that we spend so much time concentrating on The Dana Walsh Show and so little bothering with Marcos's attempt to blow himself up in a pressure chamber. Not only do we prance around worrying about her working relationship with Chloe, but we're subjected to a reconciliation sequence, of sorts, with Arlo, in which they effectively kiss and make-up after their semi-sorta-falling out in the last ten episodes, which no one actually gave a monkey's cuss about. And it doesn't end there folks, oh no. As if it would! Katz and Fury seem to think that we need to explore every possible detail that may result from her abandonment of her post. Following a thoroughly redundant conversation with Arlo that does nothing other than reiterate information to which the viewer is already privy, we're then treated to a practically identical scene with Hunchback Hastings, in which Dana wanders casually into his office for no reason other than to apologise. Again. And he basically rebukes her. Again. Honestly, is the central plot so thin that we need to resort to regurgitation? Virtually nothing new is achieved here, other than Hastings offering up a load of cod-psychoanalysis that adds little or nothing to Sackhoff's character. We really don't need any of this. It's crap; crap, crap, crap, I tell ye. And does it end there? No, of course it doesn't! This is season eight of 24, where engaging, well-paced drama is but a pipe dream! It doesn't seem possible in the wake of the unfathomably abysmal 'aftermath', but Katie Sackhoff's narrative actually manages to get even worse. Yes, gentle reader, you read that correctly. There's more. So much more. Katz and Fury proceed to smother their script in putrefied horse shit, taking the greatest of relish in destroying every last semblance of respectability that the show has ever had. There really aren't the words to describe how catastrophically atrocious this is. Perhaps we should simply start by describing events. Instead of letting the Kevin storyline die a horrible, horrible death (like every discerning viewer desires), the writers introduce a brand spanking new character to the mix in the form of the ex-con's probation officer, who decides to call up Danajenny at two o'clock in the sodding morning to ask her if she might sorta have something of an idea as to where his charge has buggered off to. One word guys: aaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Christ, this storyline just. Won't. Fucking. Die. How about we don't spend any additional hours wasting valuable screen time on a narrative that has no redeeming features at all? How about Dana spends a good few episodes getting on with her job instead of being subjected to a series of pathetically unbelievable distractions and contrivances? Why oh why oh why is this so difficult to achieve? What would the show lose out on by culling this redundant storyline? Precisely nothing, that's what. But of course, that's impossible. Instead, we have to put up with the possibility that Dana may have to leave the office AGAIN, put her work on hold AGAIN, tell head-scratchingly nefarious lies AGAIN. What is she doing denying that she knows Kevin when that is the only logical way in which his parole officer, who is obviously looking for him, may have contacted her? It doesn't make any sodding sense. There again, this storyline doesn't seem to have any logic to it whatsoever, given that this guy is up and about, doing his job in the middle of the night. It's not like Kevin is still in jail and as far as anyone can tell, his actions don't indicate that he's done any wrong. All of this could wait 'til morning. But no. The writers have so little plot that they need to bring out the 'big guns' here and significantly impede upon the progression of the central narrative. Hell, they even integrate it within the terrorist threat, unbelievably, as once we return to Marcos after probably the worst scene in 24 history, we take a break form things for the umpteenth time so that we can have events that we've just watched be narrated to us in the form of a conversation between... you guessed it... Dana and Cole! About the probation officer! Whom we just saw! And cared nothing of! Momentum annihilated AGAIN. Hurray! It really does beggar belief that this is considered to be of more worth than the terrorist plot, that we're expected to be engaged in Dana's plight and desperately want her to succeed in her endeavour to outsmart the dreaded Probation Officer. It just fucking sucks. Period. Just like the vast majority of the rest of the episode.

Oh yes, it doesn't get much better when Katz and Fury turn their attentions to other matters. Far too much time is spent pontificating over the relationship between Tarin and young Hassan; they're almost as poorly constructed as Dana and Cole and, as a result, are about as bloody interesting. Of course, much of this is concerned with demonstrating the regret that Omar harbours over his supposedly rash actions many episodes earlier (something that was telegraphed from the moment that this hopeless plot began... it really was obvious that some peril would come of her and that Hassan would repent as a result), but even this struggles to keep itself afloat. The actress portraying Mrs. Hassan essentialy props it up, providing some genuine emotion, but sadly, Katz and Fury completely drop the ball with Omar's dialogue. Lines like "I've lost my way, I see that now" are far too sweeping, sounding like he's talking about some inherent, protracted character trait that he's only now beginning to regret. It just lacks naturalism, something that is particularly disappointing coming from these two writers, given their track record. However, this seems Oscar-worthy when compared to what subsequently develops. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, as with Dana's story, things continue to spiral effortlessly downwards, robbing 24 of every tiny morsel of integrity. Yes, the unthinkable actually happens. Tarin is revealed to be a mole. The most transparent, predictable and downright lazy plot development comes to fruition, thereby proving the supposition that 24's writing staff compose their scripts in between smacking up. I am actually praying that this is a red herring; that Fury and Katz have something truly surprising up their sleeves because if not... well, I don't know that there's any point in tuning in any longer. Things are that bad.

Perhaps if all of this wasn't so unforgivably horrible, I might actually have been able to engage with the remainder of the episode. To be fair, the sequences between Bauer and Marcos certainly harbour some merit; both actors play fairly well off each other and there is a notable level of dramatic tension underpinning events. Unfortunately, once again, the dialogue lets things down. Katz and Fury trot out the ol' 'arrogant America' argument but, as with every sodding text of this kind, the statement is a sweeping one with virtually no verisimilitude to act as support. And then, even more problematically, Jack comes out with the utterly mind-boggling corker, "you say 'your country' but you were born here in America!" Huh?! What fucking good does that do? He's loyal, you idiot! Your place of birth is not necessarily the country with which you 'align' yourself. Bauer would know this, and that saying such a thing would be more of a hinderance than a help. It's shockingly out of character and sticks out like a sore thumb. And while Bauer's threat to essentially irradiate Marcos's mother is certainly more in line with his mentality, it's difficult for anyone to convincingly deliver lines like "YOU LOOK INTO MY EYES!", even an actor of the calibre of Kiefer Sutherland. The inclusion of the mother, despite being predictable, is fairly well handled, even if the actress occasionally lapses into cliche, although Marcos's emotional conflict is less convincing, particularly given that one of his sentences essentially consists of the phrase "uuuurrrrrrrrrrrr nrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh." Yeah. Eloquent. At least he gets blown to smithereens at episode's end in a nicely shot sequence with a whole heck of a lot of blood. It's a pity that after being spectacularly subjected to the full force of the blast, Bauer is up and about once again, but that really is the least of our worries at this point. I'm slightly more concerned that Marcos doesn't seem to have a clue that four lights (anyone else have a chuckle at "THERE ARE FOUR LIGHTS"?! Star Trek: The Next Generation? No?) and beeping noise might indicate that he's about to be all exploded, and that the terrorists seem not to care about the fact that opening the container housing the nuclear rods might actually expose them to radiation. Small fry that, guys. We're more concerned with making sure that "CTU's radiation sensors are down". Huh? What? Another mole? Please be fucking kidding. Please. No. Sodding. More.

While there are certain elements of '2am - 3am' that are at least passable, it's hard to be even remotely engaged with them when they're surrounded by so much extraneous crap. Honestly, this is truly abysmal stuff at times, completely unrelated to the all-important central narrative and serving no purpose other than to thoroughly infuriate the discerning viewer. This is certainly the weakest episode of the season by some considerable margin; in fact, it's also one of the worst hours in 24 history. Oh how the mighty have fallen... 2.1