Homeland reviews: 301 - 305

Yeah. Kicking this bloody blog into gear again. You have my permission to slap me around the face if I don't keep it up. TV, gig and album (mini?) reviews coming up. And anything else I may feel like. 

301: 'Tin Man Is Down'

Written by Alex Gansa & Barbara Hall
Directed by Lesli Linker Glatta
 
It's no secret that I had my issues with Homeland's second season; by the final hours, I had tired of the seemingly never-ending Ballad of Carrie and Brody, and was ready to throw several sharp implements through my television screen every time the pair of them appeared on my screen together... so thank Heavens for the final half hour of that season finale when everything went horribly pair-shaped and the pair were forced to split... hopefully, for good. And that's, thankfully, where we're (still) at, 60 minutes into Homeland's third season. Carrie's career is on the line, everyone around is betraying her, and there isn't a Nicholas Brody in sight. Good. The more distance Homeland can place between these two at this point, the better (it's more believable, for starters). It allows for other storylines to take prominence such as, er, Carrie's fragile psyche and um, Dana Brody's attempted suicide. Actually, I'm being unfair here - neither of these are *bad* plot decisions per se, and in fact, their treatment in this first installment is more than passable. Claire Danes is great as an increasingly isolated, and vilified, Carrie and Dana's story is actually remotely interesting for once. It's an understandable consequence of what appears to be her Dad's horrifying betrayal and, well, it gives the incredibly talented Morgan Saylor something gritty to get to grips with. There's also a rather niftily written and directed espionage sequence in which the CIA takes out a number of key players in the Langley bombing, designed neatly to whet our appetites for the main course to come. A good start then, if, perhaps necessarily, a slow one. (8/10)
 
302: 'Uh... Oh... Ah'

Written by Chip Johannessen
Directed by Lesli Linker Glatter

Two episodes in and still, Homeland refuses to show us a single, measly inch of Nicholas Brody (admittedly, judging by the previews, it looks like this may all change next week, but still...) It's a brave move, given that a significant proportion of the show's popularity can be attributed to his character, if, as it transpires, not an entirely successful one. Had the writing staff managed to fill the gap left by his exclusion with stories of sufficient weight to keep us permanently rooted to our seats, the absence might not be felt so strongly. As it is, the show is beginning to falter and, worse, stall for time. While Claire Danes once again gets some incredibly meaty stuff to sink her teeth into, and does so with sufficient skill to guarantee her a few Emmy nominations, you can't help feeling like we've been here before. Because we have. Repeatedly. Throughout seasons one and two. It's all well written, of course, and sharply directed but, to be frank, we're virtually experts in Carrie's broken psyche by now. And yeah, Saul's apparent transformation into, well, something of an asshole is interesting to watch but there isn't really enough surrounding this to make it as engaging as it could be. And, sadly, despite the high hopes I had last week, it appears that Dana's storyline is destined to retread the missteps of season two and become little more than a 'damaged girl meets damaged boy' type thing. Sigh. (6/10)



303: 'Tower of David'

Written by Henry Bromell & William Bromell
Directed by Clark Johnson

Homeland isn't exactly in the good books of a great many of its viewers at the moment and it's easy to understand why: with a narrative that's creeping along rather than propelling with any significant momentum, often rehashing tropes of old, one could definitely be forgiven for feeling more than a little frustrated. And truth be told, if that's how the show is making you feel right now, you'll probably feel even worse by the end of 'Tower of David'. This is an episode that positively revels in its sluggishness, refusing pointedly to engage with the central narrative and instead taking time out to present a character study of a battered, bruised and broken Nicholas Brody. It's mostly detached from everything else going on around it, save for a few obligatory check-ins with Carrie (and it's questionable whether these should've been included) but frankly, therein lies its greatest strength. This is as powerful an hour of television as Homeland has ever produced, stripping away the layers of Brody's psyche gradually, painfully, until he's left little more than a shell, sprawled on the floorof this hovel he now calls home.


This is difficult television, painful to watch at times, but in the main, it's perfectly pitched - this isn't meant to be enjoyable, it's meant to make us uncomfortable, to give us a insight into the consequences of the events that occurred at the end of season two. It's another brave move from the Homeland writing staff and one for which they should be applauded. It doesn't always work - the middle section of the episode in particular lacks some gravitas and threatens to disengage the viewer - but when it does, there's some outstanding stuff here. Damien Lewis turns in a stellar performance from first to last, and the direction and cinematography is breathtaking. A harrowing watch, then, but a necessary one. (8/10)

304: 'Game On'

Written by Alex Gansa & James Yoshimura
Directed by David Nutter

Well. There's a turn up for the books, huh? In the most controversial swerve since 24 revealed that Jack Bauer's descent into drug-addled madness was actually pre-planned, it turns out Saul and Carrie had a gargantuan play going all along and that his betrayal and her subsequent trip to the clinic was all meticulously planned and orchestrated in order to lure the Iranians out of the woodwork. Credit to the writers in one sense, at least - I did not see this coming. They successfully managed to persuade me that we were all set to witness Saul's decent into hard-nosed bastarddom and another round of Carrie as helpless victim. On the other hand, the idea that all of this was concocted in the hopes of achieving one particular outcome stretches credulity quite substantially. While it is undoubtedly true that the writing staff plotted the season arc with this turn in mind, it doesn't exactly seem like the most problem-free of deceptions. And the question of whether Carrie would willingly subject herself to this sort of torture is also a highly relevant one, given where she was throughout season two. I don't exactly feel cheated (like, apparently, a lot of other viewers do), but I don't know that this waste best way to arc the season. The aforementioned 24 twist suffered from similar problems... and it's no coincidence really, given that Homeland showrunner Howard Gordon worked on that series too.


What of the rest of the episode, then? Well, it was all a bit meh, to be honest. Those assisting the Iranians seem interesting and sinister enough, and Claire Danes did some more stellar work as an increasingly desperate Carrie, but there's a distinct lack of substance in the main. Dana's storyline, depressingly, is rapidly becoming a rehash of season two, which is the last thing we need. Here's hoping that now the cat's out of the bag, we can get round to some actual business and, you know, jump-start the story a little bit. Just a thought. (6/10)

305:  'The Yoga Play'

Written by Patrick Harbinson
Directed by Clark Johnson

Frustratingly, instead of propelling its narrative into the stratosphere following last week's oh-so-shocking revelation, Homeland remains content with the auto-pilot setting for much of its fifth hour, preferring to concentrate on the entirely irrelevant and down-right irritating Dana Brody B-storyline. Sure, there's some significant story progression elsewhere - the scenes involving Carrie's humiliating strip search and subsequent kidnapping are suitably tense and engaging, and Saul's day out with the CIA's latest bent director turns in one of the finest (and bitchiest) speeches in the show's history (go Saul!) - but in the main, this is a trudgingly slow episode, focusing on all the wrong things. The meat of the hour involves a great deal of pontificating on Carrie's part and most worryingly of all, actually marries her narrative to the Brody's. While this may be an attempt to give it some weight and - Heaven help it - some significance, given that virtually nothing at all comes of it, it all ends up feeling and reading exactly like what it is: a stalling technique because the writers don't have actual material to fill twelve episodes. I mean, come on - what actually happened to Dana? She flirts, goes into a store, watches a bit of TV, learns the shocking truth about her boyfriend and, er, gives herself up. Meanwhile, we're supposed to invest in Carrie's attempt to involve the FBI. It's cheap, it's lazy and above all, it's boring. Don't get me wrong, I am all for the inclusion of the Brodys, provided the writers can do something original and engaging with them. As it is, they're simply trotting out tired, cliched narrative devices and virtually recycling what's come before. Frankly, we expect... nay, we deserve better than this. Come on, Homeland. Get it together. (4/10)

Television review: Desperate Housewives #618: 'My Two Young Men'

618: 'My Two Young Men'

Wr: Bob Daily
Dr: David Grossman

Synopsis: Susan and Gabrielle go to extreme and shameless lenghts to top each other's kids, whereas Bree invites Sam (guest star Sam Page) over for a family dinner. A party is thrown for Mrs. McCluskey after she beats cancer, and Lynette thinks there is more to Preston's fiancée (guest star Helena Mattsson as Irina) than she's letting on. Meanwhile, Katherine comes out of the closet, though not willingly.

Review: Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the most underwhelming Housewives reveal since Psycho Dave first set his sights on Mike Delfino; yes folks, you guessed it, the worst kept secret in Hollywood is finally unveiled in 'My Two Young Men' as ol' fancy-pants himself, John 'I'm gay, you know' Barrowman graces our screens for the first time, playing (you'll never guess) Patrick Logan, Angie Bolan's former nemesis and much-regretted sexual partner. The man who single-handedly transformed the brand spanking incarnation of Doctor Who into a tongue-in-cheek polysexual love fest and made Torchwood the closest thing to a hedonistic queer orgy that you're probably able to get away with at 10pm on BBC3 is well and truly 'in da haus', rocking the boat and sending shivers up and down our spines as he brutally murders Angie's mother's neighbour-cum-treacherous informant for no good reason other than to seem a bit menacing. God love Marc Cherry, eh? He always casts his super-celebs in befitting roles and has never once hired anyone purely out of a desperate desire for ratings and publicity. Nope, definitely. Not.

Such sarcasm is perhaps a little unfair on our Barrowman, mind. He's perfectly passable here, delivering a performance that, while certainly no stranger to hyperbole, is no more ridiculous than anything else we've come to expect from this most amateur dramatic of shows. In fact, this is probably more understated than most of us expected; it's an interesting decision to have him play the villain and it's a challenge to which he seems quite determined to rise. His charming veneer is a good offset to the sinister sociopath underneath, and the calm, concentrated approach through which he channels his dialogue has a somewhat unnerving effect, unsettling the viewer slightly so that his ultimate turn has a greater impact. Barrowman has enough of a solid skill set to make this role work and to provide some genuine menace, so hopefully, Cherry and co. will rein in their penchant for bombast and grafted-on drama and allow the portrayal to work for itself. Currently, the scenario has a considerable degree of promise, given that it remains relatively shrouded in mystery (it is still unclear whether Julie's attempted murder is connected to this, and the Bolen history requires a great deal of fleshing out), so hopefully, we'll see a notable upturn in the amount of screen time devoted to it, and at the very least, a relatively believable delineation of the issues surrounding eco-terrorism. If Cherry and his band of Merry Men (and Women) take enough time and have sufficient patience to research their topic, this could actually be quite entertaining. Unfortunately, if weeks past are any indication, chances are they'll botch the whole thing and Angie and Patrick will just kick a load of bins around Wysteria Lane for a few weeks.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves here. This particular aspect of the plot is one of the stronger elements of 'All the Young Men', standing neatly alongside Bree's narrative and certain features of the ever-blossoming relationship between Katherine and Robin. Yes, you read that right folks, that's praise for the lesbianism right there. And no, it's not just because we're about to promptly get rid of it for a little while; it's for the sensitivity with which the issue is handled here. There's a strong undercurrent of believability running the course of the plot, allowing both characters to come to life far more than they have since the scissoring began (okay, okay, I'm sorry...) Katherine's reluctance to openly out herself is completely in keeping with her personality, while Robin's determination to show everyone how happy she is fits well with what's been established about her. When Katherine ultimately asks her to leave, it's one of the most human moments that Housewives has provided in quite some time. And even though the moment is qualified by Mayfair deciding to elope with her, this doesn't negate the scene's impact. If anything, it strengthens it; here, finally, we have a sudden same sex relationship that doesn't balk at the first sign of commitment, that isn't subjected to the restoration of heteronormative equilibrium. Hopefully, Cherry won't simply return Katherine to the Lane in a few weeks in a heartbroken state and have her fall straight into the arms of the nearest gym-happy hunk. Fingers crossed.

Equally as surprising is Bree's story, in which there are aspects that actually manage to be relatively engaging. The resurgence of Rex, the restoration of his importance to Mrs. Van Der Kamp, is certainly welcome as not only does it allow for a considerable level of fond nostalgia, but it also gives a better grounding to Bree as a character. Marcia Cross is superb here, perfectly evoking the melancholic joy and pain of a woman who has so potently loved and lost. It's a good reminder of from whence the show has came, and the reasons why we fell in love with Marcia's character in the first place. It also offers Shawn Pyfrom and Joy Lauren a chance to take a trip down memory lane and play the sort of beats that their characters seemed to lose a long, long time ago. There's a thoroughly believable sense of tension permeating every scene involving Sam, and certainly no more so than in the moderately amusing dinner sequence. Sadly, the writers do lapse into their usual hyperbolic selves at times: Andrew's ill-fated attempt to play guitar is one such hideous display, while the lingering, sinister looks that Sam throws to, well, no one in particular since they are a rubbish semiotic attempt to infer that there's more to him than meets the eye, are rather laughable. The jury is certainly out on whether this is a sensible development; when it was revealed that the guy was more than a creepy groupie determined to become Bree's son by proxy, the story seemed salvaged from mediocrity. Now, however, it seems that this may have been the writers' plan all along... and the only thing saving it from proving utterly abhorrent is the suggestion that Orson and Andrew might be working together in the weeks to come, and this could be an interesting coupling. Of course, this is small fry compared to what the story could turn into, so it's probably going to take a lot more to fix the problem if it occurs.

For a great number of these stories, success is predicated on the fact that they have yet to prove problematic; the potential is there for complete and utter disaster but thankfully, Housewives hasn't yet turned those corners. Certainly, this is a less than desirable format; we're essentially just waiting for the programme to disappoint and applauding, apprehensively, when it doesn't. However, this is arguably far more preferable than the considerable amount of dross that fills up the rest of the hour, as first Lynette's and then Gabrielle and Susan's joint narratives threaten to suck the life and soul out of the party and leave the viewer desperate to sew up their own eyelids with a pine needle. Yes, the 'extraneous character whose true intentions are hidden from the one person who should be able to see them' simply refuses to die, offering up a plot that is as predictable as the transformation of night into day. She's bringing the wedding forward and there's nothing Lynette can do about it! Any objections simply... lead to further estrangement from her son! They... manage to successfully manoeuvre around any and every obstacle thrown their way! Well, whaddya know, huh? A plot that stretches itself out for the maximum amount of time without ever proving even the remotest bit challenging or satisfying, and that will unquestionably fizzle out in two weeks time when Lynette finally gets through to Preston. How riveting!

This all just feels so pointless precisely because we know it will have no lasting impact. It is simply more contrived upset for its own sake; there's nothing here that has added or will add anything to the palate of the characters involved. And the less said about that absolute travesty of a plot involving the Solis and Delfino kids the better; seriously, are they really doing this again? Mere weeks after the last ridiculous competition between the two? You know, the one about beavers and monkeys or whatever that just wasn't funny? Well, what do you know... it's equally as banal again, bereft of any semblance of comedy whatsoever. In fact, it even manages to be rather insulting as MJ's mother makes him sit in a wheelchair for crying out loud, and pretend to be a bloody disabled boy in an attempt to sell some cookies! I'm sorry, but I have a hard time believing that Gabrielle, yet alone Susan, would stoop so low. Honestly, this is all just pointless, humourless filler that wastes a great deal of valuable time and manages to insult the viewer's intelligence simultaneously. For God's sake, do something different for a change, Housewives. Don't rehash plots that were bloody awful to begin with!

'My Two Young Men' is something of a curate's egg. While the episode continues to demonstrate the writing staff's apparent inability to create something wholly fresh and interesting, resorting in at least two of their narratives to ripping themselves off shamelessly and doing a decidedly botched job of it, at the same time, there are certain elements that manage to both engage and provide a semblance of hope for the remainder of the season. In a shocking twist, the show actually deals with its ratings-grabbing same sex romance in a surprisingly sensitive and believable fashion (let's put aside Lee's reference to 'speedo season', shall we?), while the debut appearance of John Barrowman and the development of Bree's storyline are both notably well handled. All of these stories have the potential to go off the deep end but thankfully, Housewives appears to be hedging its bets for the time being and resisting the temptation to descend into complete banality. Hope for the future, then, but with a great deal to improve upon in the present. 6.8

Television review: 24 #814: '5am - 6am'

814: '5am - 6am'

Teleplay: Alex Gansa
Story: Evan Katz
Dr: Milan Cheylov

Synopsis: Jack must lead a security detail to get President Hassan and his family to safety as the threat of a dirty bomb detonation intensifies.

Review: Hold the phone. Stop the presses. Cancel absolutely everything. The unthinkable has happened. After weeks of unrelenting prayer, wishing on every star that was even remotely visible in the night sky, someone, somewhere has sat up, took note and granted an entire nation of television viewers their utmost desire. Yes, that's right boys and girls, Nurse Jackie has been renewed. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Another year of nondescript, bog-standard hospital drama is on the horizon! We're positively wet with anticipation and... oh, who am I kidding? I can't keep this charade up any longer. The real reason we're bouncing off the walls like a four year old on Ritalin is that the big-wigs over at FOX have finally come to their senses, seen past the six figure sums that they're regularly raking in, and decided to put 24 out of its misery. For good. Period. Yes folks, you got it, this time it really is over. Except for the possibility of a movie like, a year or so down the line, but let's not dwell on that right now. Fact remains, we got what we wanted (or at least, around 70% of the show's remaining viewers did, at any rate). Watching this once extraordinary and pioneering programme fall so inelegantly from grace has been a frustrating and depressing experience, and so to know that we only have a further eleven lazily written and dramatically redundant hours to go before the curtain is well and truly closed is something of a relief.

It's certainly no surprise to find that '5am - 6am' continues to take a long, protracted slide down the inexorable downward spiral that 24 has embarked upon since the beginning of the year. Following last week's truly abominable howler of a cliffhanger, in which the writing staff effectively lobotomised the show by turning DanaJenny into another in a long line of utterly pointless CTU moles, this episode makes a half-hearted attempt to create something logical and believable out of it... and unsurprisingly, fails miserably. Since the notion that she has actually been in league with the terrorists since hour one is so fraught with plot holes and inconsistencies that there really is no way to salvage it, the writers choose to avoid addressing the problem in any direct way, and instead merely insert a throwaway line of dialogue in which Sackhoff mutters something about 'preserving her cover'. Presumably, this is meant to imply that DanaJenny is more than simply Samir's pawn and that she's been loaned out, or something, by whomever is her boss. And perhaps if this wasn't exactly the same story that Nina Myers was granted all those years ago, it may have been remotely passable. As it is, it's just tiresome, lacking any semblance of originality whatsoever. Things only get worse when we see Duplicitous Dana in action, telephoning Samir in the middle of the main CTU operations room, making barely-hushed comments under her breath that pretty much reveal her activities, darting her eyes every which way but loose and looking horrendously suspicious in the process. Honestly, this is supposed to be covert? Really? Are they trying to imply that she's useless at her job? Or is this simply another example of incredibly poor execution? Given that she actually gets away with talking to her partner in crime in the hallways as people walk by and no one even bats an eyelid, my money's certainly on the latter. The thirty second blackout is even worse: would an undercover operative really initiate a shut down just as the good guys are about to close in on their targets and then magically boot everything up just when they were clear? Would it not strike said operative that such a manoeuvre may, you know, seem a little suspect? Rather too convenient? And why is it so difficult for the writing staff to come up with something that doesn't insult the intelligence of every single individual watching their sorry excuse for a show? God!

As if in response to this mediocrity, Katie Sackhoff well and truly hams it up here too, delivering every line in supposedly sinister and hushed undertones that serve only to signpost her duplicity. Seriously, the way she's going on, there might as well be a neon sign above her head that reads 'I'M DODGY, ME!' Sorry to have to break this to you Kate, but playing a bad guy does not automatically give you license to overact, to break out the thespian in you and start cackling like a mad (wo)man. Someone really should tell that to Mykelti Williamson too, whose portrayal of Hunchback Hastings continues to be about as believable as George Bush's reasons for going to war with Iraq, and quite possibly reaches its ultimate nadir halfway through this episode when he is forced to deliver one of the most horrible lines of dialogue in the history of scripted drama. It's almost tempting to feel sorry for the poor bloke when he struggles and falters over "Madame President, I'm sorry to have to tell you... I can no longer guarantee the safety of Manhattan." Seriously, guys? Is this the best you can come up with? Since when was anyone able to 'guarantee' the safety of an entire city, anyway? Ack! Given that this is truly abysmal in itself, the scene becomes utterly, utterly cringe worthy since it would take an actor of, say, Kiefer Sutherland's calibre to make anything even remotely decent out of such a line. Williamson just cannot cut it, and as a result, the viewer is left face palming in embarrassment.

Unfortunately, the crappiness doesn't end here. Oh no. There's plenty more where that came from, as the writing staff see fit to bring President Taylor and her entourage back into play and in so doing, regurgitate yet another over-used and frustratingly redundant plot line from years past. Not content with having Rob Weiss get all worked up for no good reason at all as Hastings gives everyone a status update (does he really need to voice every possible counter-argument at all times?), Katz and Gansa proceed to siphon a highly complex political debate into a few one-dimensional character husks, the most notable of which is the annoying d**khead from Fringe's first season, seen here playing a military general. Now, admittedly, the scene in which the cabinet is gathered and Taylor makes her grandiose speech is actually quite enjoyable in parts. There is a welcome smattering of verisimilitude to amplify believability and Cherry Jones does a relatively impressive job with what she's given... until the dialogue turns hyperbolic, the music builds to a dodgy crescendo and we get whacked over the head with a highly unsavoury bout of nationalism. Still, we can look past that; hell, we can almost forgive the fact that Rob and Ethan manage to assemble everyone in ten short minutes, and that Samir manages to speak directly to the President, just like virtually every other villain in 24 history. What is unforgivable, however, is the story that plays out in the aftermath of this sequence. The coup launched by the General and Weiss is the same story we have seen season after season after season, as some trumped up right winger disagrees with the stance that the Commander-in-Chief takes and takes it upon his or herself to work behind his or her back to rectify 'the problem'. It happened last year with Olivia, in season six with the officials in Wayne Palmer's cabinet, and it dates all the way back to David Palmer's stint in office when Mike tried to get Alan Dale to oust his beloved friend. Internal plotting against the President is old hat; it's as dated as the presence of a mole in CTU and frankly, it cripples the viewer's investment in the show.

And as this narrative progresses, perhaps inevitably, things only worsen. First, there's the fact that Weiss and the General manage to enter Ethan's office without arousing even the slightest hint of suspicion, despite the fact that there are many people milling around outside, and that they actually go out of their way to shut the blinds. To be fair, this is something of a nitpick and could arguably be forgiven if it weren't for the atrocity that ensues in its wake. When Ethan barges in on their duplicitous plot, Katz and Gansa take perhaps the most ludicrously transparent route imaginable in creating a stall for time and have him suffer a heart attack at the most crucial moment in the entire exchange. Fine, we established in an earlier episode that he is suffering from significant health problems, but come on! Now? Really? This is wholly gratuitous tension, grafted on for its own sake, and as a result, the viewer is set apart from it, laughing at the absurd lengths to which the 24 writers will go in an attempt to stretch out their relatively wafer-thin plot. The idea that the General would propose leaving him in his current state until Hassan is cornered is also preposterous and just reinforces the utterly useless and one-dimensional nature of his character. So far so good, then... but of course, we must not forget about Jack's inclusion in all of this. Yes, Katz and Gansa unleash the most transparent plot device in the history of transparent plot devices this week by having President Taylor personally request that Bauer be taken out of the main action (you know, where he's most useful) and escort Hassan and his family to safety for no good reason whatsoever. Well, other than to manoeuvre the plot so that our central protagonist plays a main role in what ultimately becomes the focal point of the episode. Yup, way to telegraph your entire story there, guys. It is immediately obvious that something significant is going to happen to Hassan as a result, and as soon as the cabinet conference occurs, the viewer is able to accurately predict pretty much everything that happens in the remainder of the hour. Absolutely brilliant, eh? Sigh.

Thankfully for both the credulity of the writing staff and the sanity of everyone watching, things do improve somewhat towards hour's end, as Jack, Renee and the Hassan family get down to business and engage in a superbly choreographed and visually orchestrated gun battle that really amplifies the dramatic tension and conveys a genuine sense of unease and peril. Once again, Milan Cheylov directs the sequence superbly, this time making excellent use of distortion and unusual camera angles to keep the viewer on edge. Unfortunately, the whole thing is tainted somewhat by the manner in which we arrive at this point. Not only is the transparency of the writers' plot manoeuvring a crippling factor, but we also have to endure several patently absurd logic leaps that are evidently supposed to highlight just how wonderful, amazing and all-round superhuman Jack Bauer is (emphasised earlier, actually, when he absurdly brushes off the sound medical advice he's given after being shot in the chest by a sniper rifle) but instead, just prove categorically ridiculous. Remarkably, Jack manages to finger out that 'something's not right' within two seconds of calling the Air Force Base in an attempt to find Kanin. Really, that's the length of time he gives the Presidential staff to find one man in what one imagines must be a rather large building. WTF? And for all the phone call between Bauer and Weiss is actually quite realistic, making good use of a clumsy connection and an almost-expletive, the idea that Jack would be able to deduce what is actually going on from this is just preposterous. Weiss has clearly been established in earlier episodes as a difficult man with a short temper, and the fact that Kanin called him and then isn't answering could mean any number of things. Sure, it doesn't in reality, but would it really hurt to have Bauer be wrong for once? To have him foxed by the bad guys? If anything, it would be an unexpected plot development that would, at the very least, prove moderately entertaining for a few moments. It's little things like this that could so very easily fix the fundamental flaws of the show, and it's frustrating to think that the writing staff simply are not capable of delivering them.

So, another week goes by and another lacklustre episode of 24 is forced down our throats, packing virtually no punches at all and serving only to remind us of how far removed the programme is from its heyday. '5am - 6am' features virtually nothing we haven't seen in the show before, and to make matters worse, the regurgitations are cheap knock-offs of former glories. We're sick of moles in CTU; we've had enough of unnecessary and unsuccessful White House coups against the President; and we're done with Bauer being a superhuman adrenaline machine who can survive being snipered and infer the true status of events from only the most minuscule of data. Yes, there's a few good action sequences in here and sure, Annie Werschung continues to out-act everyone as Renee Walker, but frankly, it just isn't enough. 24 is dying a slow and very painful death right before our eyes... but at least we've only got nine more weeks to endure it. 4.0

Television review: Lost #610: 'The Package'

610: 'The Package'

Wr: Paul Zbyszewski & Graham Roland
Dr: Paul A. Edwards

Synopsis: Sun and Jin desperately continue searching for each other. Meanwhile, Locke confronts his enemy.

Review: After last week's superlative exposition-fest, you'd perhaps be forgiven for feeling a little underwhelmed by 'The Package'. Lost's latest sojourn into the somewhat dysfunctional and perpetually complex romance between our favourite Korean love birds sees a return to the more traditional motifs and paradigms favoured by earlier episodes of the show's final season; once again, we are presented with a 'flash sideways' that concentrates squarely on character beats that have been explored in quite comprehensive detail in years prior, while the counterpointing on-Island story takes a good hard look at the arc plot, but mostly strokes its chin for forty minutes instead of actually doing anything particularly productive about it. Thankfully, however, Zbyszewski and Roland's script is strong enough in other, far more critical, areas to help disguise this problem, and what the viewer ultimately walks away with is a feeling of tempered satisfaction; and while this may not be as preferable as the sort of pant-wetting excitement induced by 'Ab Aeterno', it is nevertheless sufficient to keep the show afloat and maintain an engaging level of momentum as we head into the final furlong.

Sun and Jin's 'what if...?' scenario essentially consists of a series of attempts to navigate the myriad obstacles which impede upon the actualisation of their relationship. The seemingly all-knowing and all-powerful Mr. Paik rears his ugly head once again, making his presence felt ever so strongly despite never physically showing up on screen. We discover that, as before, he quite vehemently disapproves of his daughter's fraternising and has elaborately orchestrated a false 'mission' for his aide to undertake in order to put an end to the affair. There is nothing particularly surprising in this, given that Lost has presented us with a number of episodes in which the characters have had to deal with his wrath, and so these minutiae threaten to stifle the plot, feeling like little more than a regurgitation of past motifs. However, 'The Package' attempts to rectify this by incorporating a few familiar faces into the proceedings, using Keimi and, perhaps more pleasingly, psycho-Russian Mikheil as the primary vehicles for Paik's plan. While it is tempting to read these as little more than playful fan-baiting, throwing old characters into the plot purely for nostalgia's sake, Paik's connections to DHARMA have been well established in episodes past, and so they are at the very least passable, if not entirely logical, developments. Significantly, Zbyszewski and Roland don't spend too much time dwelling on their presence, and instead offer the viewer a number of notable, and at times, rather amusing, differences within their characters; Mikheil's role as a translator (albeit one trained to use a gun) seems a far cry from his purpose on-Island, and his effective subservience is certainly somewhat interesting. Keimi, meanwhile, seems to have a far more considered air about him; for all there are sinister undertones to his actions (as demonstrated in Sayid's flash sideways), his interactions with both Sun and Jin are far calmer than would perhaps be expected from the man who rampaged through Otherton and put a bullet through poor Alex's head. He is an undesirable man, of that there is no doubt, but he is not one without reason and empathy; he cleans Jin's wound, expresses a certain level of regret at having to execute his boss's orders, and seems to sympathise with the dilemma that the lovers are facing. Of course, one could argue that all of this is borne of his unwavering loyalty to Mr. Paik, but nevertheless, there is sufficient ambiguity to suggest that, within the flash sideways universe, Keimi is a less tainted character.

These shifts certainly help to enliven the otherwise rather standard narrative; as with virtually all of Sun and Jin's flashbacks throughout the first three seasons, the beats concentrate on Jin's apprehension of and sense of loyalty to Mr. Paik on one hand, and Sun's desire for self-reliance and freedom from her father's imposing grasp on the other. Importantly, we discover that Jin's apparently archaic and rather controlling moment in the premiere, in which he demands that his wife fasten her top button, is actually a consequence of his fear that their illicit affair will be discovered; something that informs every last decision that he makes, right down to booking separate rooms at their hotel. And for all this is a fulfilling reveal, it is tainted somewhat by the familiarity of the whole scenario; hell, we're actually back to Sun hiding her ability to speak English, and suggesting that they elope in an attempt to escape from Paik's suffocating stranglehold. On a microcosmic level, yes, there are deviations from the prior course of events, but when examining the narrative as a whole, it becomes apparent that there is little fresh for the viewer to sink his or her teeth into. The dramatic irony upon which the story is predicated also seems to have a undesirably negative effect. While the structure of the plot is fairly sound, the viewer is aware of certain aspects of the outcome from the very beginning. Consequently, it is the aftermath that is the most desired plot point, and this doesn't come until very late in the hour. Arguably, interest is supposed to be derived from finding out exactly why Jin is locked in the kitchen, but sadly, this becomes clear from the moment it is revealed that he has to deliver something to someone. The mystery is entirely removed, and the viewer is left twiddling his or her thumbs, waiting for the most important moments to occur.

When they do, of course, they prove to be rather stunning. Yunjin and Daniel Dae Kim are absolutely excellent in the confrontation sequence, as they are throughout the episode, and there are a number of delightfully executed moments: the loss of Mikheil's eye is a nice touch, serving as a knowing wink to the dedicated viewer, while Sun's shooting is a genuinely horrifying development, coming completely out of left field and packing an even greater punch when her inevitable pregnancy is revealed. Crucially, Zbyszewski and Roland don't dwell on this point, removing us from the 'flash sideways' entirely in its wake, and leaving the audience desperate to find out more. It's this sort of powerful, well-written drama that has a lasting impact, and is the sort of thing that the 'what if...?' narratives could do with hell of a lot more of. Well, that and a walloping great dose of Korean; it's great to see this frankly rather pioneering level of multi-culturalism returning to the show, as not only does it magnify the believability manifold, but it also forces the viewer to work on understanding what is before them, to engage with rather than simply respond to. Oh yeah, and more post-coital scenes please; for all the build up to the sex is ridiculously gratuitous and more than a little corny, the aftermath is absolutely spot on, with Daniel and Yunjin both outdoing themselves again. And no, it's not just because they've got very few clothes on. Honest.

Perhaps inevitably, the essential purpose of 'The Package', its central concern, if you will, is to reaffirm the fact that Jin and Sun are soulmates, that they are meant to be together and that their romance will always blossom, no matter the odds. Off-Island, while this is supposedly their most desired state, things are quite distinctly bleak and their lives are fraught with danger, which is perhaps another attempt to illustrate the importance of the crash of Flight 815 to the personal development of the Losties. Still, in spite of all of these problems, they remain together, fighting to preserve their love. In the juxtapositionary narrative, Zbyszewski and Roland explore their quite literal separation, and the manner through which the gulfs of space and time that exist between the two actually serve to strengthen their relationship and their determination to unite once more. In this regard, Sun's frustration is very welcome and frankly, about time too. For the past season, her character has been reduced to asking about the whereabouts of her husband every five minutes, so to see her rage unleashed, to deal with some honest, humane feeling, is certainly a refreshing change. The scene in which she snaps is just brilliant, combining some considerably moving and heart-felt dialogue with a decidedly potent thematic realism to create something truly powerful. Yunjin Kim masterfully conveys this new-found sense of determination, and plays well off both Nestor Carbonell and especially Matthew Fox, whose subtle transformation of Jack from skeptic to dogged believer proves especially fascinating.

For Sun's 'other half', things are equally as fraught. Unrest ensues in the Smokie camp as Widmore and his cronies launch an ambush that cripples their forces and leaves Jin at the mercy of the deadly loudspeakers and subliminal messages of Room 23 (good to see Lost revisiting some of its more fascinating former plot points). Daniel Dae Kim is on fine form here, perfectly capturing the character's movement between perseverance, determination and frustration, and then practically stealing the show when Alan Dale shows him a series of photographs of his wife and daughter. It's a beautifully simple and understated scene, with the bare minimum of dialogue, which only magnifies its emotive impact, reminding the viewer of exactly how tragic their troubled love story really is. Of course, this is more than likely a manipulation on Widmore's part, since his stern cold-heartedness and dogged determination to return to his precious Island have been well established in previous episodes; what better way to convince Jin to do his bidding than to dangle the possibility of a reunion with Sun before his eyes? It's an interesting and beguiling development, this, since 'the Package' that Charles refers to appears to be none other than erstwhile fan favourite Desmond Hume. Exactly how is this former button-pusher and occasional time traveller going to win the proverbial 'war' and oust Smokie? Will he somehow be able to restore equilibrium and 'repair' those tainted by UnLocke's influence? (Sayid, my friend, I'm looking squarely at you... that confession scene is fascinatingly eerie). Might he ultimately affect the timeline and cause the flashes sideways to become reality? Only time, and a moderate level of patience, will tell.

With 'The Package', Lost returns to the standard narrative format favoured by its sixth and final season, marrying a character-centric flash sideways with a thematically related on-Island story. In the wake of an episode as mythology-heavy and downright stunning as 'Ab Aeterno', it was probably always going to struggle to compete and so, inevitably, the tenth hour does feel a little underwhelming at times, treading water rather than upping the ante. Nevertheless, there is a considerable amount to enjoy here, which is a testament to both Zbyszewski and Roland's mutual strengths as script writers and the unwavering skills and talents of Daniel Dae and Yunjin Kim, who once again bring Sun and Jin's relationship to life in the most vivid and engaging manner possible. 'The Package' may not be the most jaw-dropping episode Lost has ever delivered, but it certainly packs enough of a punch to hold its own. 8.3

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