422: 'Lucifer Rising'
Wr: Eric Kripke
Dr: Eric Kripke
Synopsis: As the Apocalypse approaches, Castiel and Zachariah inform Dean that his moment of glory draws nigh. Sam, disagreeing, goes with Ruby to take on Lilith.
Review: Oh Supernatural, look how far you've come. Four years ago, you were barely a blip on the televisual landscape, a seemingly throwaway monster-of-the-week show with a crush on The X Files, whose remit was to scare a generation of media-savvy youngsters into cowering behind their X-boxes. It succeeded, sure, and that's how we managed to get to this point, but no one really expected Eric Kripke's magnum opus to become the most sharply written, edge-of-your-seat viewing experience on American television. Supernatural? The one about the brothers who fight off demons? You're havin' a larff, ain't ya? Well, perhaps if we'd paid a little more attention, the surprise might have been less substantial. The writing staff have been laying the groundwork for an extravagant mythology since the brutal murder of the boys' mother in the opening scene of the pilot and now, several years and many riveting episodes later, they've finally managed to realise their vision. This fourth season has been an epic roller-coaster ride from the moment Dean's hand came clawing out of the dirt in 'Lazarus Rising', upping the stakes to breaking point while putting its characters through the proverbial emotional ringer, challenging Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles to produce some of their best work to date. With every harrowing twist and turn, things have gotten bigger and more intense and now, at the behemoth of a season finale, we reach the apex of this most gargantuan of narratives: the battle to prevent the apocalypse, the conflict between Heaven and Hell.
Except cleverly, that's not quite how it turns out. 'Lucifer Rising', a pleasingly cyclical reference back to the title of the year's opening hour, subverts all expectations by tossing its own rulebook out of the window, delivering a number of considerably unexpected curveballs that take the story in intriguing new directions. First, there's the revelation that Lillith is the final seal; everyone was so caught up in the idea that one of either Sam or Dean would be the last one, seemingly validated by the idea of a showdown between the two, that we overlooked this most obvious of possibilities. Or maybe that was just me. Perhaps even more shocking, however, is the revelation that 'senior management', to quote Zachariah, wants the apocalypse to happen. Heaven is going to sit back and allow the devastation to ensue, while preparing itself for the battle that will follow. Dean's destiny is not to prevent Armageddon, but to slay Lucifer - no small feat indeed, but it's contingent on mankind being laid to waste by demonkind. Unsurprisingly, Dean doesn't take to this lightly. His scenes of agonising rebellion in the 'green room' are excellently realised, loaded with believable revulsion at the magnitude of his benefactors' betrayal. Ackles is superb here, perfectly pitching every line of Kripke's sparkling dialogue, from his pleas to Castiel to my personal favourite, "you can take your peace and shove it up your lilly white ass". You go, girlfriend.
Predictably, Kurt Fuller's turn as Zachariah is wonderful too, turning at the drop of a hat from whimsical flippancy - his remarks about Gilligan's Island - to menacing castigation. When he reveals that "God has left the building", the moment is so crushing, so hopeless, that it sends shivers down the spine. And then there's Misha Collins, proving once again, a million times over, why he's become such a legitimate fan favourite, evoking the character's inner struggle between his obedience and his conscience with merely the slightest of looks, really selling the humanity (ironically) of the character. It's a genuine 'fist in the air' moment when he finally rejects Zach and helps Dean to rescue Sam. And encouragingly, it seems that we haven't seen the last of these players. Kripke's spectacular over-arching narrative doesn't end with 'Lucifer Rising', oh no... and how could it? This is the end-game, the final battle; you don't get any bigger than Armageddon, there's no higher power to overcome than the armies of Heaven and Hell. In a fantastic move, the episode ends as Lucifer is actually released from Hell; next to Lost's pause at the most crucial moment of its finale, this is the most maddening cliffhanger of the season, cutting us off at the exact moment that things really look set to go absolutely mental. Still, for that very reason, it's the perfect end to the year, keeping an entire nation on tenterhooks for the next four months. And what a final season this looks set to be, eh? Things will probably never be the same now that the ultimate 'big bad' is roaming the Earth, so it looks like, even more so than year four, this will be a very mythology-led, season-spanning story, with very few, if any, stops to investigate the occasional paranormal curiosity of the week. Kripke's assertion that there will only be five seasons of Supernatural makes perfect sense now; after they've done the apocalypse, where else could they really go?
There are many other outstanding elements within 'Lucifer Rising' too. Kripke's dual writing and directing responsibilities really give the hour a sense of cohesion. In complete control of his vehicle, the show's creator is truly able to realise his vision. There are some wonderfully subtle touches here: the juxtaposition of the serenity of the 'green room', with its quietly delivered diction and lack of underscore, and Sam's intense torture of the baby-munching demon is decidedly disturbing, while his counterpointing of Sam's lament to Ruby with Dean's conversation with Bobby, while visually antithetical, is united thematically by the repeated use of a close-up fade-in shot, from out of focus, on Sam and Dean's respective faces. Sam's moral dilemma, his repugnance at being faced with the human host behind the demon, is also notably understated, never veering too far into cliché or hitting the viewer over the head with the metaphor, while Bobby's clearly cathartic confrontation of Dean, in which he releases all the frustration and anger that he's built up towards the Winchesters over the years, is a massively refreshing change for his character and a definite highlight of the episode.
'Lucifer Rising' is the most fitting end to a near perfect season. Eric Kripke's script is simultaneously invigorating, touching, shocking and frustrating, a veritable marathon for the emotions that leaves the viewer battered and bruised but begging incessantly for more. It ties together many of the season's loose narrative strands but leaves enough open for the final run, promising, in its nail-bitingly immense cliffhanger, one of the best conclusions to a series that we're ever likely to see. Year five can't come soon enough. 9.5
Friday, 15 May 2009
Live review: Maximo Park/The Noisettes/Stricken City (Newcastle 02 Academy, 13/05/09)
This is the original, unedited version of the review. The published version, which is somewhat shorter, can be found at Livethescene.
There are members of the local constabulary patrolling the halls of Newcastle's 02 Academy this evening, as homegrown heroes Maximo Park begin the first night of their two-date residency. However, rather than being hired to keep an eye on a few thousand over-exuberant Geordies, whose uncontrollable desire to get close to their idols threatens to trample hundreds of innocent bystanders under foot, the boys in blue are here in an attempt to quell a rising spate of phone and wallet thievery; at recent gigs by acts as disparate as NOFX and The Enemy, the pickpockets have been on the loose, scrounging what they can while the average music lover is distracted by the sight of his or her favourite band. Their presence is a nice, polite gesture, one that makes you think that yeah, maybe the venue does have our best interests at heart; until you walk through the double doors and are accosted by their 'promotional staff' that is, who, despite being amicable enough to have a mindless chat about Poison the Well with, are still there purely to sell you a phone network. A phone network that has a monopoly on the tickets they sell for their recently acquired venues, that offers its users the chance to buy them a day or so before they are released to the general public. It's just the sort of plastic, repugnant corporate claptrap that music can do without and no amount of free Monster-Munch-on-a-stick appetisers (yes, we're not kidding) from smiley-faced 'waitresses', if you can call them that, can disguise the fact.
So already, this false politeness leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, and that's before Stricken Kid and the Noisettes show up with the remit to be as inoffensive as possible. The London four piece carefully wheel out their Korg-led twee pop, stopping only to offer the most delicate of "thank you"s to a gracious, but markedly unmoved, crowd. Shingai Shoniwa's band of merry indie funksters continue the trend, despite having a drummer who looks like he should be in a 70s heavy metal act, bashing away at his kit with the kind of force generally reserved for Iron Maiden LPs. There's a sort of sultry sense of relaxation to their newly honed Gossip-lite sound, but it fails to ignite the very palpable spark that's buzzing around the clearly psyched-up crowd. Shoniwa's attempts to inject a little sleaze into the performance don't really help matters; while she drapes herself over the drumkit in her too-short yellow dress and gyrates suggestively against her guitarist, Newcastle just shrugs its shoulders, as if to say, "yeah, been there, done that, when's the guy in the trilby coming on?" Everyone stands stock still, even during recent single 'Go Baby Go', the one a few people might've actually heard. Oh sure, they bring their hands together, but its more out of obedience than any sort of appreciation. It certainly doesn't help that the Noisettes lack the tunes to really kick-start the party and, more importantly, that they make occasional use of a backing track instead of allowing Shoniwa to sing. Would it really kill her to perform her songs as they are recorded? By the end of their lacklustre twenty-five minutes, even the band look bored, resigned to the fact that they're never going to stimulate this most befuddled and unimpressed of audiences.
Thankfully, the main event shows up thirty minutes later and promptly puts an end to all of this indifference. There's nothing polite about Maximo Park's performance, that's for sure, and nor is there in Newcastle's very vocal adoration. As the various members of the band walk out onstage, the roars of appreciation threaten to blow the roof off and then, when Paul Smith's gangly, besuited and betrilbyed frame finally scissor kicks into view, they very almost do. There is such an incredible amount of love for this band that, at times, it threatens to overwhelm them; their Cheshire cat grins stay permanently glued to their faces, as if in awe of such sincere warmth. However, instead of simply resting on their laurels and letting the love wash over them, they grab onto it as tight as they can and use it to invigorate, transforming a standard set that's heavy on the new album with a smattering of hits, into a blisteringly impassioned performance. It's like they're playing for their lives, such is the intensity; Paul Smith frequently seems possessed, 'Hulking up' to his hoards, yelling "come on!" at the top of his voice and wildly gesticulating at us all as he tells nineteen stories in lyrical form. His songs seem to consume him: he feels and means every word, and frequently screams them, fists clenched, into the distance, as if addressing some invisible subject. And why wouldn't he? These are snapshots of a life, one loaded with a wealth of experience that he delights in regaling us with. From the bittersweet yearning of 'I Want You To Stay' to the heartfelt reminisce of 'By The Monument', there is a sort of emotional catharsis in his performance, as if the act of singing the words actually helps to resolve the personal conflict that they speak of.
There's room for mindless, flamboyant fun in the mix too. Smith's expert showmanship shines through at every turn: he stalks the stage from left to right, climbing speaker stacks, jumping off drum risers and standing on stage lights, all the while throwing shapes, twisting, contorting, swinging his mic around and so on and on, further into the most delectable sort of cabaret. There's a distinctly camp element to his behaviour, the kind that makes you half expect him to start twirling the mic stand around while performing a sort of barbershop quartet dance across the length of the stage. He never does though; instead, he just shakes his arse one more time and gropes keyboardist Lukas Wooller, who is also just about as delightfully fidgety.
If he isn't doing his traditional right-hand karate chops, he's swinging his keyboard from left to right, falling all over it and jumping around the stage, pointing suggestively at the screaming masses. It makes for quite a spectacle, but fortunately, it never distracts from the power of the music. While there is much here from the recently released 'Quicken the Heart', and only about a sixth of the audience know the words, Maximo circumvent this problem by turning the guitars up to twenty and bolstering their sound. From current single 'The Kids Are Sick Again' to sporadic album opener 'Wraithlike', everything seems heavier and more intense and as a result, you just can't help but shuffle your feet. It's the earlier material that really gives the floor a good pounding, though. Opener 'Graffiti' stomps out of the gate like a demented rock behemoth, and before long it's morphed into the whirlwind histrionics of 'Our Velocity', sending bodies bouncing off one another in a sort of riotous delirium. Then there's 'Girls Who Play Guitars', 'Now I'm All Over The Shop', 'Going Missing', 'Books From Boxes'... classics all, and greeted with the kind of vocal hysteria usually reserved for stadium terraces.
By the time the encore comes around, Newcastle is giving its heroes a standing ovation. They barely even need to play closer 'Apply Some Pressure'; the audience screams every word so loud that they almost drown out the rhythm section. It's a superlative moment, demonstrating the depth of devotion that this city has for its most prolific of bands, and when Maximo remain on stage at song's end, mouthing heartfelt "thank you"s and basking in the glory of a job well and truly done, you know the feeling is mutual. The restrained politeness that characterised the start of the evening has given way to an uncontrollable frenzy, and that’s something that not even the long arm of the law can control. Absolutely and utterly class.
There are members of the local constabulary patrolling the halls of Newcastle's 02 Academy this evening, as homegrown heroes Maximo Park begin the first night of their two-date residency. However, rather than being hired to keep an eye on a few thousand over-exuberant Geordies, whose uncontrollable desire to get close to their idols threatens to trample hundreds of innocent bystanders under foot, the boys in blue are here in an attempt to quell a rising spate of phone and wallet thievery; at recent gigs by acts as disparate as NOFX and The Enemy, the pickpockets have been on the loose, scrounging what they can while the average music lover is distracted by the sight of his or her favourite band. Their presence is a nice, polite gesture, one that makes you think that yeah, maybe the venue does have our best interests at heart; until you walk through the double doors and are accosted by their 'promotional staff' that is, who, despite being amicable enough to have a mindless chat about Poison the Well with, are still there purely to sell you a phone network. A phone network that has a monopoly on the tickets they sell for their recently acquired venues, that offers its users the chance to buy them a day or so before they are released to the general public. It's just the sort of plastic, repugnant corporate claptrap that music can do without and no amount of free Monster-Munch-on-a-stick appetisers (yes, we're not kidding) from smiley-faced 'waitresses', if you can call them that, can disguise the fact.
So already, this false politeness leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, and that's before Stricken Kid and the Noisettes show up with the remit to be as inoffensive as possible. The London four piece carefully wheel out their Korg-led twee pop, stopping only to offer the most delicate of "thank you"s to a gracious, but markedly unmoved, crowd. Shingai Shoniwa's band of merry indie funksters continue the trend, despite having a drummer who looks like he should be in a 70s heavy metal act, bashing away at his kit with the kind of force generally reserved for Iron Maiden LPs. There's a sort of sultry sense of relaxation to their newly honed Gossip-lite sound, but it fails to ignite the very palpable spark that's buzzing around the clearly psyched-up crowd. Shoniwa's attempts to inject a little sleaze into the performance don't really help matters; while she drapes herself over the drumkit in her too-short yellow dress and gyrates suggestively against her guitarist, Newcastle just shrugs its shoulders, as if to say, "yeah, been there, done that, when's the guy in the trilby coming on?" Everyone stands stock still, even during recent single 'Go Baby Go', the one a few people might've actually heard. Oh sure, they bring their hands together, but its more out of obedience than any sort of appreciation. It certainly doesn't help that the Noisettes lack the tunes to really kick-start the party and, more importantly, that they make occasional use of a backing track instead of allowing Shoniwa to sing. Would it really kill her to perform her songs as they are recorded? By the end of their lacklustre twenty-five minutes, even the band look bored, resigned to the fact that they're never going to stimulate this most befuddled and unimpressed of audiences.
Thankfully, the main event shows up thirty minutes later and promptly puts an end to all of this indifference. There's nothing polite about Maximo Park's performance, that's for sure, and nor is there in Newcastle's very vocal adoration. As the various members of the band walk out onstage, the roars of appreciation threaten to blow the roof off and then, when Paul Smith's gangly, besuited and betrilbyed frame finally scissor kicks into view, they very almost do. There is such an incredible amount of love for this band that, at times, it threatens to overwhelm them; their Cheshire cat grins stay permanently glued to their faces, as if in awe of such sincere warmth. However, instead of simply resting on their laurels and letting the love wash over them, they grab onto it as tight as they can and use it to invigorate, transforming a standard set that's heavy on the new album with a smattering of hits, into a blisteringly impassioned performance. It's like they're playing for their lives, such is the intensity; Paul Smith frequently seems possessed, 'Hulking up' to his hoards, yelling "come on!" at the top of his voice and wildly gesticulating at us all as he tells nineteen stories in lyrical form. His songs seem to consume him: he feels and means every word, and frequently screams them, fists clenched, into the distance, as if addressing some invisible subject. And why wouldn't he? These are snapshots of a life, one loaded with a wealth of experience that he delights in regaling us with. From the bittersweet yearning of 'I Want You To Stay' to the heartfelt reminisce of 'By The Monument', there is a sort of emotional catharsis in his performance, as if the act of singing the words actually helps to resolve the personal conflict that they speak of.
There's room for mindless, flamboyant fun in the mix too. Smith's expert showmanship shines through at every turn: he stalks the stage from left to right, climbing speaker stacks, jumping off drum risers and standing on stage lights, all the while throwing shapes, twisting, contorting, swinging his mic around and so on and on, further into the most delectable sort of cabaret. There's a distinctly camp element to his behaviour, the kind that makes you half expect him to start twirling the mic stand around while performing a sort of barbershop quartet dance across the length of the stage. He never does though; instead, he just shakes his arse one more time and gropes keyboardist Lukas Wooller, who is also just about as delightfully fidgety.
If he isn't doing his traditional right-hand karate chops, he's swinging his keyboard from left to right, falling all over it and jumping around the stage, pointing suggestively at the screaming masses. It makes for quite a spectacle, but fortunately, it never distracts from the power of the music. While there is much here from the recently released 'Quicken the Heart', and only about a sixth of the audience know the words, Maximo circumvent this problem by turning the guitars up to twenty and bolstering their sound. From current single 'The Kids Are Sick Again' to sporadic album opener 'Wraithlike', everything seems heavier and more intense and as a result, you just can't help but shuffle your feet. It's the earlier material that really gives the floor a good pounding, though. Opener 'Graffiti' stomps out of the gate like a demented rock behemoth, and before long it's morphed into the whirlwind histrionics of 'Our Velocity', sending bodies bouncing off one another in a sort of riotous delirium. Then there's 'Girls Who Play Guitars', 'Now I'm All Over The Shop', 'Going Missing', 'Books From Boxes'... classics all, and greeted with the kind of vocal hysteria usually reserved for stadium terraces.
By the time the encore comes around, Newcastle is giving its heroes a standing ovation. They barely even need to play closer 'Apply Some Pressure'; the audience screams every word so loud that they almost drown out the rhythm section. It's a superlative moment, demonstrating the depth of devotion that this city has for its most prolific of bands, and when Maximo remain on stage at song's end, mouthing heartfelt "thank you"s and basking in the glory of a job well and truly done, you know the feeling is mutual. The restrained politeness that characterised the start of the evening has given way to an uncontrollable frenzy, and that’s something that not even the long arm of the law can control. Absolutely and utterly class.
Thursday, 14 May 2009
Review: Lost season five finale (#516/#517: 'The Incident, parts one and two')
516: 'The Incident, part one'
Wr: Carlton Cuse & Damon Lindelof
Dr: Jack Bender
Synopsis: Jack's decision to put a plan in action in order to set things right on the island is met with some strong resistance by those close to him. Locke assigns Ben a difficult task.
Review: Over the years, we've come to expect a lot from Lost's season finales. From the superlative intrigue of 'Exodus' to the game-changing revelations in 'Through the Looking Glass', the show has consistently upped its game in its closing hours, delivering A-grade episodes time and time again that prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it's the best damn thing on television and perhaps more importantly, keep us all pontificating, theorising and chewing our nails off in frustrated anticipation of its return. It's a shame, therefore, that this is the last time we will get to experience the months of heated debate with our friends, the agonising wait for resolutions to the boatload of additional questions that have been thrown at us, the rejection of just about every other show on the goggle box because, well, "it's not Lost, is it?" This time next year, the story will be resolved, the final chapter delivered, the book firmly closed. It doesn't even bear thinking about, even if it has the potential to be an absolutely stellar viewing experience, given Lindelof and Cuse's track record. It's a good thing then that 'The Incident' manages not only to press all the right buttons, and then some, making it one hell of an experience to leave us with for eight months, but also to be the best damn end to a season that the show has ever produced.
As is tradition, 'The Incident' builds to an apex through the interweaving of fast-paced, disparate narrative strands but, like the duality of Locke's mission to turn the wheel and the Losties' attempts to escape from the Island in last season's 'There's No Place Like Home', it splits its plot firmly in two, counterpointing the journey to Jacob with the journey to the Swan. Part one details the minutiae, drawing together all the parties involved in both missions, while part two features the crescendo, turning the cogs of the narrative in interesting and sometimes completely beguiling ways. This is a masterful structure to adopt as it ensures the viewer's complete engagement through the full ninety minutes; the build is fast-paced and full of its own delectable moments, which in turn makes the arrival of the pay-off all the more rewarding. The story rarely pauses to catch its breath and when it does, it's only to provide us with an important character beat or, more interestingly, a glimpse into the influence of the almighty Jacob on the off-Island lives of the Losties. That we finally get to see the legendary caretaker is enough of a treat, never mind getting an episode that is essentially Jacob-centric. Mark Pellegrino is a superb choice of actor, bringing a palatable sense of wisdom and mystery to the role. With every quietly delivered line and subtle glance, he underlines his power, and age, while also encouraging our allegiance with him. It certainly seems that he is the more sympathetic of the beings responsible for the Island, a reading that is illustrated well by the fantastic opening scene. The conversation between he and 'the other guy' as they look at out at what is probably the Black Rock is very telling: while his counterpart believes that outsiders bring only death and destruction, and therefore should not be allowed to taint the Island, Jacob emphasises the importance of trust, of giving others the benefit of the doubt, and clearly believes in the good inherent in man. For this 'progressive' viewpoint, 'the other guy' derides him, setting up a philosophical binarity that cuts to the heart of the show, that has been there right from the start, most particularly in the approaches of characters such as Jack and Locke. And of course, just to make the scene even more delectable, we get to see the full-blown statue again in all its menacing glory.
The development of this particular strand of the narrative in part one is rather beguiling. The appearance of Jacob at key moments in the history of several of the 815 survivors, while deftly executed, runs the risk of seeming a little superfluous until it becomes apparent, midway through the episode, that there is a purpose to these events. When he appears to a mysteriously bandaged Illyana, and then she subsequently explores the guy's cabin, only to determine that 'someone else has been using it' (leading to a lovely moment in which she torches the place), things start to snap into focus. 'The other guy', it seems, is leading things astray and therefore, it is entirely possible that Jacob's visits to our heroes, however small, are all little shoves in the direction that he needs them to go in in order to put an end to this threat, setting up his players, his army if you will, for their ultimate destinies. His influence on Sayid is certainly indicative of this, as is his healing (effective resurrection?) of Locke when his 'father' pushes him from the building. This scene in particular is superbly executed, with the static, distant camera position greatly amplifying the horror and surprise of the moment.
Speaking of the bald headed one, Terry O'Quinn continues to do an excellent job of demonstrating the changes inherent in the character, as his actions and dialogue become more and more unusual. His desire to murder Jacob juxtaposes prominently with the glimpses we are given of the psuedo-deity's actions: more than ever, the viewer is encouraged to question why this most level-headed and supposedly Island-savvy of leaders would want to maliciously destroy the only person who could perhaps be regarded as his philosophical equal. The scene in which he effectively goads Ben into submission, getting him to both confess about his pathological lying and agree to 'do the deed', as it were, is fantastically creepy for precisely this reason: it jars with all that we know about Locke's character. The viewer is therefore encouraged to begin to question the man which, obviously, is expanded upon in part two.
Back in 1977, things are equally as satisfying. While Kate's arrival on the submarine initially seemed to be a rather lame attempt to fan the flames of the irritating love square, a valid reason is actually given for her actions. The juxtaposition of her mission (with Sawyer and Juliet) to stop the bomb being detonated with Jack, Sayid, Hurley and Miles's mad dash to actually blow the thing up works incredibly well, sustaining the episode's momentum and producing some wonderfully intense moments, from Juliet's accosting of the submarine captain to the shoot-out in Dharmaville, which is genuine edge-of-the-seat stuff. Sayid's injury is a very welcome surprise that adds a touch of uncertainty to things as, given the show's corpse-laden history, it is entirely possible that he will not survive. And then, of course, there's Rose, Bernard and Vincent whose past three years are finally given some back story after eleven episodes on the back-burner. It's a delight to see these two again, however briefly, and their newly-developed, karmic c'est la vie attitude makes for a very refreshing alternative to the maddeningly schizophrenic actions of everyone else around them. Sure, the scene gets a little mawkish in places, particularly when Bernard utters the line, "we just care about being together. That's all that matters in the end" (spew!), but it's good to see the Losties put in their place for a moment. All of this also seems to lend further credence to the theory that they are the 'Adam and Eve' from the first season, the corpses that Jack found lying together in the cave, with one black and one white stone in their pockets... definitely a point worth pondering.
All in all, part one of 'The Incident' is a highly intense, beguiling, rewarding and pretty darn brilliant set-up for the explosive events that occur in part two. The hour ends with Ben resolving to kill Jacob in 2007, and Jack and Sawyer, the two opposing parties in the race to change history, colliding face-first into one another in 1977; if that doesn't keep you coming back for more, I really don't know what will. 9.4
517: 'The Incident, part two'
Wr: Carlton Cuse & Damon Lindelof
Dr: Jack Bender
Synopsis: Jack's decision to put a plan in action in order to set things right on the island is met with some strong resistance by those close to him. Locke assigns Ben a difficult task.
Review: 'The Incident's second instalment takes all the promise of the first and realises it tenfold, providing one hell of a viewing experience that'll have you punching the air, scratching your head, screaming at your TV and blubbing like a baby, all in equal measure. This is a roller-coaster ride for the emotions, jostling constantly between delivering satisfying character development and nail-biting dramatic tension, while throwing in a weighty amount of explanation and (as is to be expected) mystery to boot. The two major events - the race to the Swan and the race to Jacob - both come to stellar crescendos that threaten to change the shape of the show forever.
First, Jack Sheppard's mission to change history. This is fantastically intense stuff, with gun battles blazing here, there and everywhere, electromagnetic catastrophes threatening to cause the end of the world and a slue of brilliant two-handers between characters. Jack and Sawyer's fight in the jungle is a particularly strong example of this; the scene starts out refreshingly calm as, for once, the two share a semblance of honesty with each other and outline their entirely believable motives, but then, predictably, all hell breaks loose. With every aggressive punch to the face, the viewer feels every inch of Sawyer's pain, his reluctance to give up all that he has worked so hard for and come to love. And with every bloody retort, we yearn for Jack's troubled past to be erased, for all the sorrow he has to endure to disappear. The strength of our emotional investment in these most three-dimensional of characters keeps the debate at the core of the storyline completely ambivalent; it is incredibly difficult to side with either party because we understand so deeply, and care so significantly, about both of them. Matthew Fox and Josh Holloway are absolutely fantastic throughout the episode, not only in this particular scene. The former excels particularly in his storming of the Swan site, while the latter absolutely nails both of his harrowing moments with Juliet. The first of these seems a little absurd initially, as his lover effectively abandons their relationship for 'the greater good' or some such crap (the flashback sequence that clarifies her position seems rather artificial and out of place), but gradually, thanks in no small part to the incredible skill of both Holloway and Elizabeth Mitchell, the viewer is able to buy into their plight. The second excruciatingly emotional scene, however, is an absolute beaut from start to finish, as they desperately cling to one another in the midst of 'the incident'. There is nothing mawkish or clichéd about the moment, despite it being an oft-used conceit, because the dialogue is laconic and believable and the actors completely sell every terrifying beat. Holloway manages to pull off intense emotion through a combination of reserve and vocal despair, while Mitchell's oscillation between resigned calm and palatable fear makes her final 'I love you' and willingness to let go all the more poignant. It's an incredibly sad moment, (almost) signalling the end of one of the most loved characters on the show.
Of course, Juliet's actual (apparent) death comes at hour's end when she seemingly manages to detonate the hydrogen bomb. This has to be the single most infuriating cliffhanger since the opening of the hatch in season one. Leaving us on the realisation of the most intriguing trope in the narrative, without any semblance of a hint as to where this may ultimately take us, would seem like a bit of a kick in the teeth if it weren't for the fact that the show does it with such unquestionable style and panache. It's one hell of a point to leave the audience pondering for the next eight months, that's for sure. Is this going to change the course of events? Will this cause Oceanic 815 to actually arrive at its destination, rather than crash on the Island? It is very tempting to think that this is too simple a course for the narrative, especially when one takes the realisation of 'the incident' into consideration. Rather than have the bomb detonate immediately upon its launch down the shaft, Cuse and Lindelof begin the process of the electromagnetic release that causes Chang to lose his arm (very nice touch) and will ultimately lead to the change in the Swan station's purpose. No plot points that we know to have occurred post-1977 are changed here: Radzinsky and Chang both survive, while a number of others die. Is it possible, therefore, that the detonation of the bomb will simply have actually occurred as part of 'the incident' in the timeline as we know it? Will it somehow not be a cataclysmic event that destroys the Island? Will it react with the electromagnetic energy and cause something else to happen? Will it somehow propel the '77 Losties to 2007? Who knows? The writers' continued reiteration of the importance of the fact that 'whatever happened, happened' seems to dissuade the viewer from believing that Jack's plan has actually succeeded.
However, when one takes Jacob's little dalliances through our central characters' histories into consideration, further questions are raised: it certainly seems like he is giving everyone 'a little push' (to quote his scene with Jack) in order to get to where they are now. His scene with Hurley, in particular, hints strongly at this. Thus, is it possible that Jacob is using the '77 Losties to somehow prevent his untimely death in 2007? When he mutters the foreboding line "they're coming" before he is callously kicked into the fire, could he be referring to Kate, Sawyer, Miles, Jin, Jack and Hurley (and maybe Juliet if we're lucky)? Is he using them to change history and therefore prevent things occurring as they do here? Or is it that he has to get them to this place in 2007, but hasn't done so in time? So many questions and so much time to debate them... but the fact that any show can generate such a great level of intrigue, never mind a one as consistently well-written as Lost, deserves nothing but the highest of praise.
And it's not like they stop at 1977, oh no. The contemporary (well, almost) storyline is equally as loaded with beguiling material, ready to be picked at, scrutinised and over-analysed until January 2010. Once again, Terry O'Quinn and Michael Emerson outshine every other member of the cast, knocking not one, not two, but about twenty five out of the park with each passing moment, and it's made all the more impressive by the fact that their characters are both stepping outside of the box somewhat: Locke in his continued confidence and unusual manner and Ben in his subservience and honesty. Of course, Lindelof and Cuse proceed to give us a fantastic explanation as to the course of events, revealing that the bald headed one is, in fact, dead as doornails and that the man claiming to be the Others' leader is 'the other guy' from the opening scene of part one. Now then. There's a great deal of valid analysis to be made here and it's predicated on the notion that this 'opposing' force, Jacob's equal, if you will, is, in fact, the smoke monster (or indeed, that the smoke monster is a manifestation, a form, of this man). To begin, the 'white/black' parallel is implicit in both the dialogue and the clothing of the pair in 'The Incident's opening scene, which obviously ties to Smokey's favourite colour. Then there is the mural on the wall of the Temple in 'Dead is Dead', which clearly shows an Egyptian figure, identical to the statue (you know, the one that Jacob lives in), making some form of pact with a creature that looks rather like the monster. This suggests that the two have a symbiotic relationship, and it certainly isn't a stretch to believe that it is based on being bound to an agreement to 'look after' the Island, to be its caretakers. And finally, we have Smokey's penchant for creating manifestations of the dead, from Emi, Eko's brother, to, more recently, Alex, Ben's daughter. Within the confines of the show's mythology, it would therefore be entirely possible for him to manifest as Locke, now that he is deceased. It certainly all seems to tie together, with only the exact specifics of the 'loop-hole' that allow for Jacob's death remaining somewhat oblique. One possible interpretation of this is that, because only the 'leader' can see him, it could only ever be this person who could potentially kill him. Obviously, John is not the leader of the Others at this point because he is dead; therefore, the title falls on the last person to occupy the position... Ben. The moment between Linus and his much-revered superior is exquisitely executed. The juxtaposition of Ben's pent-up rage and hate and Jacob's calmness and serenity really intensifies the tension in the scene, and the fact that Pellegrino offers him a choice only makes things all the more poignant. This is top class stuff, providing the perfect marriage between satisfying revelation and tantalising mystery, and setting up an even more grandiose 'battle for the Island' in the sixth season than perhaps we were expecting.
The final part of 'The Incident' is the kind of edge-of-your-seat television that leaves you reeling for hours, days and, most certainly in Lost's case, months on end. The realisation of the finale's two-handed dramatic apex is absolutely superb on both fronts: the 1977 strand is loaded with excitement and emotion, while the contemporary plot draws together some of the show's key elements, hinting at, if not entirely delivering, answers that we've been craving for a very long time. It certainly looks like we are setting up for one hell of a battle in the show's final year, and it is very rewarding to feel like the pieces are finally beginning to slot into place. While the cliffhanger will have you screaming insanely at your television set for about three quarters of an hour, that just demonstrates that Lindelof and Cuse have achieved exactly what they set out to. After watching this, there's no way in hell you're going to miss season six. Roll on January. 9.6
Wr: Carlton Cuse & Damon Lindelof
Dr: Jack Bender
Synopsis: Jack's decision to put a plan in action in order to set things right on the island is met with some strong resistance by those close to him. Locke assigns Ben a difficult task.
Review: Over the years, we've come to expect a lot from Lost's season finales. From the superlative intrigue of 'Exodus' to the game-changing revelations in 'Through the Looking Glass', the show has consistently upped its game in its closing hours, delivering A-grade episodes time and time again that prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it's the best damn thing on television and perhaps more importantly, keep us all pontificating, theorising and chewing our nails off in frustrated anticipation of its return. It's a shame, therefore, that this is the last time we will get to experience the months of heated debate with our friends, the agonising wait for resolutions to the boatload of additional questions that have been thrown at us, the rejection of just about every other show on the goggle box because, well, "it's not Lost, is it?" This time next year, the story will be resolved, the final chapter delivered, the book firmly closed. It doesn't even bear thinking about, even if it has the potential to be an absolutely stellar viewing experience, given Lindelof and Cuse's track record. It's a good thing then that 'The Incident' manages not only to press all the right buttons, and then some, making it one hell of an experience to leave us with for eight months, but also to be the best damn end to a season that the show has ever produced.
As is tradition, 'The Incident' builds to an apex through the interweaving of fast-paced, disparate narrative strands but, like the duality of Locke's mission to turn the wheel and the Losties' attempts to escape from the Island in last season's 'There's No Place Like Home', it splits its plot firmly in two, counterpointing the journey to Jacob with the journey to the Swan. Part one details the minutiae, drawing together all the parties involved in both missions, while part two features the crescendo, turning the cogs of the narrative in interesting and sometimes completely beguiling ways. This is a masterful structure to adopt as it ensures the viewer's complete engagement through the full ninety minutes; the build is fast-paced and full of its own delectable moments, which in turn makes the arrival of the pay-off all the more rewarding. The story rarely pauses to catch its breath and when it does, it's only to provide us with an important character beat or, more interestingly, a glimpse into the influence of the almighty Jacob on the off-Island lives of the Losties. That we finally get to see the legendary caretaker is enough of a treat, never mind getting an episode that is essentially Jacob-centric. Mark Pellegrino is a superb choice of actor, bringing a palatable sense of wisdom and mystery to the role. With every quietly delivered line and subtle glance, he underlines his power, and age, while also encouraging our allegiance with him. It certainly seems that he is the more sympathetic of the beings responsible for the Island, a reading that is illustrated well by the fantastic opening scene. The conversation between he and 'the other guy' as they look at out at what is probably the Black Rock is very telling: while his counterpart believes that outsiders bring only death and destruction, and therefore should not be allowed to taint the Island, Jacob emphasises the importance of trust, of giving others the benefit of the doubt, and clearly believes in the good inherent in man. For this 'progressive' viewpoint, 'the other guy' derides him, setting up a philosophical binarity that cuts to the heart of the show, that has been there right from the start, most particularly in the approaches of characters such as Jack and Locke. And of course, just to make the scene even more delectable, we get to see the full-blown statue again in all its menacing glory.
The development of this particular strand of the narrative in part one is rather beguiling. The appearance of Jacob at key moments in the history of several of the 815 survivors, while deftly executed, runs the risk of seeming a little superfluous until it becomes apparent, midway through the episode, that there is a purpose to these events. When he appears to a mysteriously bandaged Illyana, and then she subsequently explores the guy's cabin, only to determine that 'someone else has been using it' (leading to a lovely moment in which she torches the place), things start to snap into focus. 'The other guy', it seems, is leading things astray and therefore, it is entirely possible that Jacob's visits to our heroes, however small, are all little shoves in the direction that he needs them to go in in order to put an end to this threat, setting up his players, his army if you will, for their ultimate destinies. His influence on Sayid is certainly indicative of this, as is his healing (effective resurrection?) of Locke when his 'father' pushes him from the building. This scene in particular is superbly executed, with the static, distant camera position greatly amplifying the horror and surprise of the moment.
Speaking of the bald headed one, Terry O'Quinn continues to do an excellent job of demonstrating the changes inherent in the character, as his actions and dialogue become more and more unusual. His desire to murder Jacob juxtaposes prominently with the glimpses we are given of the psuedo-deity's actions: more than ever, the viewer is encouraged to question why this most level-headed and supposedly Island-savvy of leaders would want to maliciously destroy the only person who could perhaps be regarded as his philosophical equal. The scene in which he effectively goads Ben into submission, getting him to both confess about his pathological lying and agree to 'do the deed', as it were, is fantastically creepy for precisely this reason: it jars with all that we know about Locke's character. The viewer is therefore encouraged to begin to question the man which, obviously, is expanded upon in part two.
Back in 1977, things are equally as satisfying. While Kate's arrival on the submarine initially seemed to be a rather lame attempt to fan the flames of the irritating love square, a valid reason is actually given for her actions. The juxtaposition of her mission (with Sawyer and Juliet) to stop the bomb being detonated with Jack, Sayid, Hurley and Miles's mad dash to actually blow the thing up works incredibly well, sustaining the episode's momentum and producing some wonderfully intense moments, from Juliet's accosting of the submarine captain to the shoot-out in Dharmaville, which is genuine edge-of-the-seat stuff. Sayid's injury is a very welcome surprise that adds a touch of uncertainty to things as, given the show's corpse-laden history, it is entirely possible that he will not survive. And then, of course, there's Rose, Bernard and Vincent whose past three years are finally given some back story after eleven episodes on the back-burner. It's a delight to see these two again, however briefly, and their newly-developed, karmic c'est la vie attitude makes for a very refreshing alternative to the maddeningly schizophrenic actions of everyone else around them. Sure, the scene gets a little mawkish in places, particularly when Bernard utters the line, "we just care about being together. That's all that matters in the end" (spew!), but it's good to see the Losties put in their place for a moment. All of this also seems to lend further credence to the theory that they are the 'Adam and Eve' from the first season, the corpses that Jack found lying together in the cave, with one black and one white stone in their pockets... definitely a point worth pondering.
All in all, part one of 'The Incident' is a highly intense, beguiling, rewarding and pretty darn brilliant set-up for the explosive events that occur in part two. The hour ends with Ben resolving to kill Jacob in 2007, and Jack and Sawyer, the two opposing parties in the race to change history, colliding face-first into one another in 1977; if that doesn't keep you coming back for more, I really don't know what will. 9.4
517: 'The Incident, part two'
Wr: Carlton Cuse & Damon Lindelof
Dr: Jack Bender
Synopsis: Jack's decision to put a plan in action in order to set things right on the island is met with some strong resistance by those close to him. Locke assigns Ben a difficult task.
Review: 'The Incident's second instalment takes all the promise of the first and realises it tenfold, providing one hell of a viewing experience that'll have you punching the air, scratching your head, screaming at your TV and blubbing like a baby, all in equal measure. This is a roller-coaster ride for the emotions, jostling constantly between delivering satisfying character development and nail-biting dramatic tension, while throwing in a weighty amount of explanation and (as is to be expected) mystery to boot. The two major events - the race to the Swan and the race to Jacob - both come to stellar crescendos that threaten to change the shape of the show forever.
First, Jack Sheppard's mission to change history. This is fantastically intense stuff, with gun battles blazing here, there and everywhere, electromagnetic catastrophes threatening to cause the end of the world and a slue of brilliant two-handers between characters. Jack and Sawyer's fight in the jungle is a particularly strong example of this; the scene starts out refreshingly calm as, for once, the two share a semblance of honesty with each other and outline their entirely believable motives, but then, predictably, all hell breaks loose. With every aggressive punch to the face, the viewer feels every inch of Sawyer's pain, his reluctance to give up all that he has worked so hard for and come to love. And with every bloody retort, we yearn for Jack's troubled past to be erased, for all the sorrow he has to endure to disappear. The strength of our emotional investment in these most three-dimensional of characters keeps the debate at the core of the storyline completely ambivalent; it is incredibly difficult to side with either party because we understand so deeply, and care so significantly, about both of them. Matthew Fox and Josh Holloway are absolutely fantastic throughout the episode, not only in this particular scene. The former excels particularly in his storming of the Swan site, while the latter absolutely nails both of his harrowing moments with Juliet. The first of these seems a little absurd initially, as his lover effectively abandons their relationship for 'the greater good' or some such crap (the flashback sequence that clarifies her position seems rather artificial and out of place), but gradually, thanks in no small part to the incredible skill of both Holloway and Elizabeth Mitchell, the viewer is able to buy into their plight. The second excruciatingly emotional scene, however, is an absolute beaut from start to finish, as they desperately cling to one another in the midst of 'the incident'. There is nothing mawkish or clichéd about the moment, despite it being an oft-used conceit, because the dialogue is laconic and believable and the actors completely sell every terrifying beat. Holloway manages to pull off intense emotion through a combination of reserve and vocal despair, while Mitchell's oscillation between resigned calm and palatable fear makes her final 'I love you' and willingness to let go all the more poignant. It's an incredibly sad moment, (almost) signalling the end of one of the most loved characters on the show.
Of course, Juliet's actual (apparent) death comes at hour's end when she seemingly manages to detonate the hydrogen bomb. This has to be the single most infuriating cliffhanger since the opening of the hatch in season one. Leaving us on the realisation of the most intriguing trope in the narrative, without any semblance of a hint as to where this may ultimately take us, would seem like a bit of a kick in the teeth if it weren't for the fact that the show does it with such unquestionable style and panache. It's one hell of a point to leave the audience pondering for the next eight months, that's for sure. Is this going to change the course of events? Will this cause Oceanic 815 to actually arrive at its destination, rather than crash on the Island? It is very tempting to think that this is too simple a course for the narrative, especially when one takes the realisation of 'the incident' into consideration. Rather than have the bomb detonate immediately upon its launch down the shaft, Cuse and Lindelof begin the process of the electromagnetic release that causes Chang to lose his arm (very nice touch) and will ultimately lead to the change in the Swan station's purpose. No plot points that we know to have occurred post-1977 are changed here: Radzinsky and Chang both survive, while a number of others die. Is it possible, therefore, that the detonation of the bomb will simply have actually occurred as part of 'the incident' in the timeline as we know it? Will it somehow not be a cataclysmic event that destroys the Island? Will it react with the electromagnetic energy and cause something else to happen? Will it somehow propel the '77 Losties to 2007? Who knows? The writers' continued reiteration of the importance of the fact that 'whatever happened, happened' seems to dissuade the viewer from believing that Jack's plan has actually succeeded.
However, when one takes Jacob's little dalliances through our central characters' histories into consideration, further questions are raised: it certainly seems like he is giving everyone 'a little push' (to quote his scene with Jack) in order to get to where they are now. His scene with Hurley, in particular, hints strongly at this. Thus, is it possible that Jacob is using the '77 Losties to somehow prevent his untimely death in 2007? When he mutters the foreboding line "they're coming" before he is callously kicked into the fire, could he be referring to Kate, Sawyer, Miles, Jin, Jack and Hurley (and maybe Juliet if we're lucky)? Is he using them to change history and therefore prevent things occurring as they do here? Or is it that he has to get them to this place in 2007, but hasn't done so in time? So many questions and so much time to debate them... but the fact that any show can generate such a great level of intrigue, never mind a one as consistently well-written as Lost, deserves nothing but the highest of praise.
And it's not like they stop at 1977, oh no. The contemporary (well, almost) storyline is equally as loaded with beguiling material, ready to be picked at, scrutinised and over-analysed until January 2010. Once again, Terry O'Quinn and Michael Emerson outshine every other member of the cast, knocking not one, not two, but about twenty five out of the park with each passing moment, and it's made all the more impressive by the fact that their characters are both stepping outside of the box somewhat: Locke in his continued confidence and unusual manner and Ben in his subservience and honesty. Of course, Lindelof and Cuse proceed to give us a fantastic explanation as to the course of events, revealing that the bald headed one is, in fact, dead as doornails and that the man claiming to be the Others' leader is 'the other guy' from the opening scene of part one. Now then. There's a great deal of valid analysis to be made here and it's predicated on the notion that this 'opposing' force, Jacob's equal, if you will, is, in fact, the smoke monster (or indeed, that the smoke monster is a manifestation, a form, of this man). To begin, the 'white/black' parallel is implicit in both the dialogue and the clothing of the pair in 'The Incident's opening scene, which obviously ties to Smokey's favourite colour. Then there is the mural on the wall of the Temple in 'Dead is Dead', which clearly shows an Egyptian figure, identical to the statue (you know, the one that Jacob lives in), making some form of pact with a creature that looks rather like the monster. This suggests that the two have a symbiotic relationship, and it certainly isn't a stretch to believe that it is based on being bound to an agreement to 'look after' the Island, to be its caretakers. And finally, we have Smokey's penchant for creating manifestations of the dead, from Emi, Eko's brother, to, more recently, Alex, Ben's daughter. Within the confines of the show's mythology, it would therefore be entirely possible for him to manifest as Locke, now that he is deceased. It certainly all seems to tie together, with only the exact specifics of the 'loop-hole' that allow for Jacob's death remaining somewhat oblique. One possible interpretation of this is that, because only the 'leader' can see him, it could only ever be this person who could potentially kill him. Obviously, John is not the leader of the Others at this point because he is dead; therefore, the title falls on the last person to occupy the position... Ben. The moment between Linus and his much-revered superior is exquisitely executed. The juxtaposition of Ben's pent-up rage and hate and Jacob's calmness and serenity really intensifies the tension in the scene, and the fact that Pellegrino offers him a choice only makes things all the more poignant. This is top class stuff, providing the perfect marriage between satisfying revelation and tantalising mystery, and setting up an even more grandiose 'battle for the Island' in the sixth season than perhaps we were expecting.
The final part of 'The Incident' is the kind of edge-of-your-seat television that leaves you reeling for hours, days and, most certainly in Lost's case, months on end. The realisation of the finale's two-handed dramatic apex is absolutely superb on both fronts: the 1977 strand is loaded with excitement and emotion, while the contemporary plot draws together some of the show's key elements, hinting at, if not entirely delivering, answers that we've been craving for a very long time. It certainly looks like we are setting up for one hell of a battle in the show's final year, and it is very rewarding to feel like the pieces are finally beginning to slot into place. While the cliffhanger will have you screaming insanely at your television set for about three quarters of an hour, that just demonstrates that Lindelof and Cuse have achieved exactly what they set out to. After watching this, there's no way in hell you're going to miss season six. Roll on January. 9.6
Wednesday, 13 May 2009
Review: Fringe season one finale (#120: 'There's More Than One of Everything')
120: 'There's More Than One of Everything'
Teleplay: Jeff Pinker & J.H. Wyman
Story: Akiva Goldsman & Bryan Burk
Dr: Brad Anderson
Synopsis: Someone close to Fringe Division is attacked, and bioterrorist David Robert Jones returns. Meanwhile, Walter inexplicably disappears and Nina asks Olivia for a favour.
Review: After ramping up its game with lots of talk and, to quote a certain Dr. Bishop, postulation about alternate realities in 'The Road Not Taken', Fringe continues to keep its foot firmly on the accelerator here, delivering the goods by predicating its entire narrative on this most fascinating of concepts and even giving us a glimpse into the secondary universe that we've been promised since the season's halfway point. The story ratchets along at a whirlwind pace, resolving loose plot strands cleanly and efficiently while simultaneously throwing a truckload of fresh mysteries our way that ensure our return for its recently announced second season. The attack on Nina Sharp is addressed and dealt with immediately upon our introduction to the episode - no dicking around at home with Olivia while she reads her niece a metaphorically relevant story and waits for the inevitable phone call from Broyles that will interrupt her. We get concrete answers from this too, as a brief history of David Robert Jones's association with Massive Dynamic is delivered in pleasingly succinct fashion, and some form of honesty is finally allowed between all the parties involved in the investigation of Pattern incidents, as Nina comes clean about her knowledge of parallel worlds and William Bell's whereabouts. It's good to see Broyles, Olivia and most particularly Agent Francis trying to come to terms with the theoretical absurdity of the whole thing: the scene in which they all add a sentence or two to the explanation is masterfully paced, with the simultaneous ringing of all three of their phones making for some excellent comic timing.
It's a shame that Nina's revelation about Bell is delivered somewhat artificially. Olivia's line, "I'll turn this world upside down looking for him" feels far too much like a feed into Sharp's reveal, making the next piece of dialogue ("Ah, but he's not in this world!" or words to that effect) rather predictable. And while the triad of narratives that make up the main thrust of the hour - Jones's, Olivia's and Peter's - come to their apex at a refreshingly speedy pace, it is somewhat ridiculous that Agent Dunham manages to find the connection between all of the Pattern cases and Jones's recent exploits within, what, a few hours? The fact that she's wearing the same clothes in the scene where she has her "Eureka!" moment as the one in which she starts asking for every single file 'linked to biology and science' (some of which go back twenty years), and that she manages to arrive at Raiden Lake at virtually the same time as the Bishops, would appear to indicate that very little time is supposed to have elapsed. Well colour me sceptical, but surely with such a massive array of cases to work through, and the fact that "a dozen of [Massive Dynamic's] best analysts have spent the better part of two years looking for a connection", this should maybe take a little longer? What, can Cortexefan induce super speed now or something?
This is a fairly minor gripe, however. The remainder of the narrative is so thrillingly engaging that one is able to suspend disbelief and put certain illogical elements to the back of the mind. Jones's antics, in particular, are a wonderful conceit and the writers exploit their potential to the maximum. While his death is certainly a delight to watch, even if it does feel like a lot more could've been done with the character, it is the revelation of the child's body that is the most
memorable moment, and one of the most horrific the show has ever given us. There's something about the angle of the splice and the fact that the victim is an innocent youngster playing football that really curdles the blood, which in turn strengthens the gravitas of the threat at hand. Then there's Walter and Peter's scenes which, despite being a little cheesy in places (how predictable that the boy's reminisce about pancakes would be just what his dad needed to jog his memory!), stand up well thanks to the very considerable talents of Messrs Noble and Jackson. The scene in which the pair discuss the function of Walter's device is beautifully shot, making expert use of chiaroscuro to visually reflect the hour's central motif. Their faces are shot half in shadow and half in light (significantly, the vice versa of each other), which echoes the binarity of the alternate reality concept: two worlds co-existing but different, one to which we are privy ('in light') and one to which we are not ('in shadow').
The revelation that Peter is from the parallel world is a masterful one too, tying together a large number of character beats from the season, ranging from Walter's intermittent reiteration of his son's sickness as a child to Peter's lack of memory of certain events. It is carried out with the most sublime delicacy, telegraphed in only the most subtle of ways and therefore coming as a distinct, but ultimately very pleasing, surprise. And speaking of surprises, was anyone actually shocked by Leonard Nimoy's appearance? The media have been all over this one for a couple of weeks, spoiling what would've undoubtedly been a superlative fangeek spazz out moment. Still, at least we finally caught a glimpse of the legendary William Bell and, from the looks of things, the parallel universe. There are some lovely touches here, from the presence of the Twin Towers to the fact that President Kennedy is alive and well. Oh, and the scene in which Olivia 'crosses over' in the elevator is fantastically eerie and mysterious; don't know about you, but the moment when it briefly fills with people really creeped me out.
A pretty awesome effort all round then, striking just the right balance between weaving together the season's disparate narrative strands and maintaining a sufficient level of mystery to keep us all stoked for the arrival of year two. As a finale, this is just what the doctor ordered. I think I just made myself cringe. 8.9
Teleplay: Jeff Pinker & J.H. Wyman
Story: Akiva Goldsman & Bryan Burk
Dr: Brad Anderson
Synopsis: Someone close to Fringe Division is attacked, and bioterrorist David Robert Jones returns. Meanwhile, Walter inexplicably disappears and Nina asks Olivia for a favour.
Review: After ramping up its game with lots of talk and, to quote a certain Dr. Bishop, postulation about alternate realities in 'The Road Not Taken', Fringe continues to keep its foot firmly on the accelerator here, delivering the goods by predicating its entire narrative on this most fascinating of concepts and even giving us a glimpse into the secondary universe that we've been promised since the season's halfway point. The story ratchets along at a whirlwind pace, resolving loose plot strands cleanly and efficiently while simultaneously throwing a truckload of fresh mysteries our way that ensure our return for its recently announced second season. The attack on Nina Sharp is addressed and dealt with immediately upon our introduction to the episode - no dicking around at home with Olivia while she reads her niece a metaphorically relevant story and waits for the inevitable phone call from Broyles that will interrupt her. We get concrete answers from this too, as a brief history of David Robert Jones's association with Massive Dynamic is delivered in pleasingly succinct fashion, and some form of honesty is finally allowed between all the parties involved in the investigation of Pattern incidents, as Nina comes clean about her knowledge of parallel worlds and William Bell's whereabouts. It's good to see Broyles, Olivia and most particularly Agent Francis trying to come to terms with the theoretical absurdity of the whole thing: the scene in which they all add a sentence or two to the explanation is masterfully paced, with the simultaneous ringing of all three of their phones making for some excellent comic timing.
It's a shame that Nina's revelation about Bell is delivered somewhat artificially. Olivia's line, "I'll turn this world upside down looking for him" feels far too much like a feed into Sharp's reveal, making the next piece of dialogue ("Ah, but he's not in this world!" or words to that effect) rather predictable. And while the triad of narratives that make up the main thrust of the hour - Jones's, Olivia's and Peter's - come to their apex at a refreshingly speedy pace, it is somewhat ridiculous that Agent Dunham manages to find the connection between all of the Pattern cases and Jones's recent exploits within, what, a few hours? The fact that she's wearing the same clothes in the scene where she has her "Eureka!" moment as the one in which she starts asking for every single file 'linked to biology and science' (some of which go back twenty years), and that she manages to arrive at Raiden Lake at virtually the same time as the Bishops, would appear to indicate that very little time is supposed to have elapsed. Well colour me sceptical, but surely with such a massive array of cases to work through, and the fact that "a dozen of [Massive Dynamic's] best analysts have spent the better part of two years looking for a connection", this should maybe take a little longer? What, can Cortexefan induce super speed now or something?
This is a fairly minor gripe, however. The remainder of the narrative is so thrillingly engaging that one is able to suspend disbelief and put certain illogical elements to the back of the mind. Jones's antics, in particular, are a wonderful conceit and the writers exploit their potential to the maximum. While his death is certainly a delight to watch, even if it does feel like a lot more could've been done with the character, it is the revelation of the child's body that is the most
memorable moment, and one of the most horrific the show has ever given us. There's something about the angle of the splice and the fact that the victim is an innocent youngster playing football that really curdles the blood, which in turn strengthens the gravitas of the threat at hand. Then there's Walter and Peter's scenes which, despite being a little cheesy in places (how predictable that the boy's reminisce about pancakes would be just what his dad needed to jog his memory!), stand up well thanks to the very considerable talents of Messrs Noble and Jackson. The scene in which the pair discuss the function of Walter's device is beautifully shot, making expert use of chiaroscuro to visually reflect the hour's central motif. Their faces are shot half in shadow and half in light (significantly, the vice versa of each other), which echoes the binarity of the alternate reality concept: two worlds co-existing but different, one to which we are privy ('in light') and one to which we are not ('in shadow').
The revelation that Peter is from the parallel world is a masterful one too, tying together a large number of character beats from the season, ranging from Walter's intermittent reiteration of his son's sickness as a child to Peter's lack of memory of certain events. It is carried out with the most sublime delicacy, telegraphed in only the most subtle of ways and therefore coming as a distinct, but ultimately very pleasing, surprise. And speaking of surprises, was anyone actually shocked by Leonard Nimoy's appearance? The media have been all over this one for a couple of weeks, spoiling what would've undoubtedly been a superlative fangeek spazz out moment. Still, at least we finally caught a glimpse of the legendary William Bell and, from the looks of things, the parallel universe. There are some lovely touches here, from the presence of the Twin Towers to the fact that President Kennedy is alive and well. Oh, and the scene in which Olivia 'crosses over' in the elevator is fantastically eerie and mysterious; don't know about you, but the moment when it briefly fills with people really creeped me out.
A pretty awesome effort all round then, striking just the right balance between weaving together the season's disparate narrative strands and maintaining a sufficient level of mystery to keep us all stoked for the arrival of year two. As a finale, this is just what the doctor ordered. I think I just made myself cringe. 8.9
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
Review: 24 #722 (5am - 6am)
722: '5am - 6am'
Wr: Evan Katz
Dr: Brad Turner
Synopsis: Innocent lives remain in the line of fire as this terrifying day draws to a close. Jack is faced with an unthinkable situation while his perpetually imperilled daughter, Kim, gets involved. Meanwhile, the imminent threat stokes the heated rivalry between Chloe and Janis. (God, it even reads like it's gonna be bad, doesn't it?)
Review: Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. 24, you were doing so well. Season seven has been a roller-coaster ride of monumental proportions, fuelled by a ricochetting pace, oodles of dramatic tension and a cast and crew to die for. There have been momentary lapses, sure, but on the whole, this has been an engaging and entertaining year, kept afloat by a number of interesting dramatic decisions (Tony's turn, for example) and a narrative that twists and turns every few episodes, rather than stretching out thinly over twenty four of 'em. It's been a vast improvement on the lamentable waste of space that was season six, and with the various intriguingly mysterious plot strands that have been introduced in the past couple of episodes, it looked set to continue right into next week's action-packed, suspense-laden two hour finale. And then Evan Katz came along and ruined it all.
What a difference a week makes, eh? With every passing minute of the hopelessly horrible '5am - 6am', the narrative foundations that have been carefully built since the culmination of the Starkwood storyline are eroded further and further, as if the writers have all gathered around their story, mob-like, and are taking inexplicable glee in kicking and stoning it to death. By hour's end, there's barely anything left to salvage; the plot lies sprawled across the floor, bloodied, bruised and broken, and the viewers' heads are permanently glued to their hands, shocked and amazed that this most talented and prolific of production crews could waste so much potential with such reckless aplomb. We were on course for an explosive finale, in which Jack must prevent another attack with the Preon variant while also having the mother of all showdowns with the dastardly Tony Almedia. While it's possible we're still going to get the latter, Katz actually wastes the whole bio-terrorist threat here with a highly lamentable sequence of scenes that are full of holes and regrettably predictable. Okay, first: a subway attack. Well that's original guys. It's not like you didn't do this already, a few seasons ago. Second: while Washington Central is undoubtedly busy, no station is anywhere near its most jam-packed at 5.30 in the morning! If the idea is to create the maximum number of casualties with the minimum amount of fuss, surely Almeida and his cohorts would be better served contaminating say, a 7 or 8 o'clock train? You know, during rush hour. When everyone's travelling. Oh and guess what, guys? That would be the final hour of your season too, so it would've fit rather nicely. Nothing like an opportunity well missed, eh?
Then there's Al-Zarian's attempt to inform the police that something is wrong. While I did wonder how Tony was going to keep an eye on the guy with only a few subway cameras and an ear-piece, and therefore the presence of the dirty 'transit cop' makes sense, even if it is a bit of an eye-roller, the whole thing is entirely contingent on the station staff not thinking that there is anything suspicious about this very sincere man, who claims he is under the control of terrorists, still being allowed access to the subway after having talked to an officer of the law. He tells the woman at the ticket booth that he has to be quiet because "they're listening" and removes his ear-piece; then, after a little dressing down from the authority figure, he clearly puts the thing back into his ear in full view of the staff members and begins talking into it! Now I don't know about you, but that would certainly raise red flags with me and I'd be getting on the phone to the local PD ASAP. This would have been a far, far better and more organic way of allowing the FBI to gain the upper hand and thwart the situation than the method that is actually used. Magically, Chloe and Janis (more on them later) manage to locate Tony's cell within about fifteen minutes of the evil henchman's phone call, despite this highly-skilled, well-versed and technologically-sound ex-government agent having placed some sort of uber-clever scrambling encryption type thing on it. No, despite his years of training and almost unrivalled skill, Almeida is still unable to mask his trail from the all-knowing, all-powerful CTU/FBI whizzkids.
Oh and just to make matters worse, he can't even do a good job of obliterating his hand-held device! Oh no wait, he can. Chloe says it can't be salvaged, it's been bashed to smithereens! But wait! Janis can save the day with some completely nonsensical technobabble that has no grounding whatsoever in reality! Huzzah! The device is back up and running within five minutes AND, just to make things even more convenient, the FBI have access to absolutely everything that was on there, right down to the appearance of all the applications that were running on their screens! Yahoo! This means they can tap directly into Jibran's ear piece and Jack can talk hurriedly, but compassionately, with him and get him to run like a madman through Washington station, with the bag completely open so that the whole world can see the cylindrical object that looks like a bomb! Great idea! And of course, this means that the good guys can intercept the canister just in the nick of time, despite there being one minute and twenty seconds on the timer when Jibran is still on the train, and it taking him longer than that to get outside, where Jack, Renee and the world's most convenient HAZMAT room are waiting! This is so depressingly easy, it's laughable. When Jack throws the canister into the safe room and jams the door shut just before it explodes, I was reminded of the utterly risible 'fridge freezer' scene from the season three finale... and that's something I never wanted to see echoed again. Far, far too convenient and utterly unbelievable. Colour me unimpressed.
Okay, so the writers dropped the ball on the bio-terrorism storyline, but surely they've got an ace up their sleeves, right? Something even better and more epic to keep us engaged for the mother of all finales? Think again, buster. We've got Kim. Yes, that's right: Kim 'well rodger me with a cougar, I'm just so damn useless' Bauer, Elisha Cuthbert... the annoying one. Sigh. Haven't the writers learned anything from seasons past? The character is so denigrated by this point, so loathed after years of being endlessly chased around for no good reason, kidnapped, shot at, locked in mysterious bunkers with creepy individuals and so on and on and on, that we just don't care anymore. Her life, as far as a large proportion of the viewing audience is concerned, really doesn't matter. And now we're going to be treated to two episodes where she's the central focus of the terrorists' dastardly deeds? It's a huge, huge let-down, almost akin to the focus of last season's final episodes being on Josh fracking Bauer or whatever the hell his bloody surname was. And just to hammer home the point that every scene she's in spells doom for the show, her entire storyline in this episode is both astonishingly ridiculous and unbelievably annoying. First, we have a pointless telephone conversation with her boyfriend, which achieves nothing other than filling in a bit of time (presumably, the script underran), but also contains one of the most absurd lines of dialogue this writer has ever heard: when Kim tells her fella that her flight is delayed by a couple of hours, he replies, "well, maybe you should see this as a sign to stay with your dad." Oh please. Who says this sort of thing? Honestly, I thought this was going to be a lead-in to some asinine adultery plot, in which he's trying to keep Kim away because he's banging one of his fellow nurses on the side, but no, apparently it was just a crap line.
Then, lo and behold, Kim notices that a dodgy man appears to be spying on her! Well, we couldn't have her not be involved in the central plot, could we? No, that would be too easy. Of course, this turns out just to be a guy that Jack has assigned to keep an eye on his daughter, so we all breathe a huge sigh of relief. At this point, it seems like the writers are just toying with us, having a bit of fun with our expectations and laughing at their own clichés. Unfortunately, that gives them far, far too much credit. Ten minutes later, they completely undo all of this with the introduction of the single worst plot element of the season: the evil coffee-drinking, newspaper-reading couple who Kim just so happens to decide to sit beside when she's creeped out by Jack's aide. These two have been planted by the mysterious evil lawyer, apparently as yet another contingency plan just in case Tony is apprehended (how many back-ups do these people have, honestly?!) and now, they're going to 'keep an eye on her' so that Bauer will do whatever the crazy bespectacled and wigged woman wants. She guarantees his co-operation, hilariously, by sending his phone a live webcam feed of Kim, which is also on display in the most extraordinarily subtle fashion on the full screen of evil coffee-drinker's laptop, where any casual passer-by, or person in direct line of vision, could see it. And now, with his daughter's life threatened, Jack has to free Tony from FBI custody, thereby implicating himself and setting the scene for everyone in the show to start chasing after him for the umpteenth time in the day. Frankly, I can't think of anything I'd like to see less. Evidently, the writers are trying to recreate the formula that made season one such a success, right down to having the bad guy in constant communication with Jack via an ear-piece (Ira Gaines, anyone?) However, back then, the narrative was both fresh and completely organic: the drive of the season, from the get go, was the counterpointing of two threats, one against Senator Palmer and the other against Jack's family. We bought into these stories because they were with us from the start. Here, the escalation of the situation to a personal level just feels forced, coming completely out of nowhere and therefore jarring with what has gone before. While this inevitably has some emotional and dramatic promise, and will probably lead to a number of excellent scenes for Sutherland, the viewer is far less invested, seeing it for the artificial U-turn that it is.
Sadly, the remaining plot strands aren't much better. While certain elements of Olivia's story remain strong, most notably her continued unravelling and the fact that it is simply her contact who got Hodges all blowed up, not some ridiculous third party conspirator, its trajectory becomes questionable once Aaron starts calling up Ethan and asking about 'the voice activated recording system that allows staff meetings to be logged and archived'. Riiiight. So there's this magical device that records everything that happens in the Chief of Staff's office at the drop of a single word and Olivia wouldn't be briefed on this when she's promoted to the position? You've got to be kidding me, yeah? I suppose I should give the writers the benefit of the doubt here since the story hasn't actually played out, but I'll bet good money that everything she's said 'in private' has been conveniently captured on the audio recorder. And in any case, why wouldn't Ethan turn the damn thing off? He had plenty time to pack up and tidy away when he resigned. And just when was the last time they had a staff meeting in his office, for crying out loud? 12+ hours ago? More? This is yet another example of monumentally lazy writing, a quick and ill-thought out way of getting from A to B, that could easily have been rectified with a little more thought.
Elsewhere, the bickering between Chloe and Janis is probably the biggest waste of space since Chase's baby turned up and started crapping all over CTU's freshly-opened sockets back in year three. This is completely pointless stuff, tired, clichéd filler that does nothing other than annoy the viewer. We certainly don't care enough about either character to invest in their argument and there is absolutely no reward whatsoever in the utterly transparent resolution of the storyline, in which Janeane Garofolo actually proves her worth to the almighty Ms O'Brien. Just look at some of the dialogue between the pair of 'em: "Do you have something you'd like to say to me?" "What?" "How about good job Janis?" "Oh you don't know me but if you did, you would know that this is not the place you should look for validation." Euck. Pass the sick bucket, this crap is making me nauseous. Oh and while we're on the subject, the unbelievably cheesy nods between Jack and Gohar and the subsequent over-the-top three-way hug involving the brothers and their priest made me want to blow chunks too.
In the space of a single episode, the 24 writing staff have managed to undo just about everything that has made the show such a delight to watch this year. While there are moments of brilliance - the semi-torture of the henchman, the incredibly violent and emotional scene between Jack and Tony - they are so few and far between that they barely have any impact. The rest of '5am - 6am' is a narratalogical car crash, unravelling in painfully slow motion: with every step, the story delves deeper and deeper into the asinine and the ridiculous, stopping off several times at clichéd and predictable along the way. From the lacklustre culmination of the bio-terrorist storyline to the irritating reintroduction of Kim, by way of Janis and Chloe's argument from hell, things just get worse and worse until, by episode's end, it's difficult to care any more. From the looks of the cliffhanger, it appears that the two hour season finale will be a retread of season one, featuring Bauer working to free his 'kidnapped' daughter by obeying the terrorists' every evil whim while the government chases after him because they think he's dirty. Great. Let's hope the writers have a few tricks up their sleeves, eh? Otherwise, to quote a certain Mr. Bauer, we may need to "lock down this piece of crap" before it's too late. 3.7
Wr: Evan Katz
Dr: Brad Turner
Synopsis: Innocent lives remain in the line of fire as this terrifying day draws to a close. Jack is faced with an unthinkable situation while his perpetually imperilled daughter, Kim, gets involved. Meanwhile, the imminent threat stokes the heated rivalry between Chloe and Janis. (God, it even reads like it's gonna be bad, doesn't it?)
Review: Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. 24, you were doing so well. Season seven has been a roller-coaster ride of monumental proportions, fuelled by a ricochetting pace, oodles of dramatic tension and a cast and crew to die for. There have been momentary lapses, sure, but on the whole, this has been an engaging and entertaining year, kept afloat by a number of interesting dramatic decisions (Tony's turn, for example) and a narrative that twists and turns every few episodes, rather than stretching out thinly over twenty four of 'em. It's been a vast improvement on the lamentable waste of space that was season six, and with the various intriguingly mysterious plot strands that have been introduced in the past couple of episodes, it looked set to continue right into next week's action-packed, suspense-laden two hour finale. And then Evan Katz came along and ruined it all.
What a difference a week makes, eh? With every passing minute of the hopelessly horrible '5am - 6am', the narrative foundations that have been carefully built since the culmination of the Starkwood storyline are eroded further and further, as if the writers have all gathered around their story, mob-like, and are taking inexplicable glee in kicking and stoning it to death. By hour's end, there's barely anything left to salvage; the plot lies sprawled across the floor, bloodied, bruised and broken, and the viewers' heads are permanently glued to their hands, shocked and amazed that this most talented and prolific of production crews could waste so much potential with such reckless aplomb. We were on course for an explosive finale, in which Jack must prevent another attack with the Preon variant while also having the mother of all showdowns with the dastardly Tony Almedia. While it's possible we're still going to get the latter, Katz actually wastes the whole bio-terrorist threat here with a highly lamentable sequence of scenes that are full of holes and regrettably predictable. Okay, first: a subway attack. Well that's original guys. It's not like you didn't do this already, a few seasons ago. Second: while Washington Central is undoubtedly busy, no station is anywhere near its most jam-packed at 5.30 in the morning! If the idea is to create the maximum number of casualties with the minimum amount of fuss, surely Almeida and his cohorts would be better served contaminating say, a 7 or 8 o'clock train? You know, during rush hour. When everyone's travelling. Oh and guess what, guys? That would be the final hour of your season too, so it would've fit rather nicely. Nothing like an opportunity well missed, eh?
Then there's Al-Zarian's attempt to inform the police that something is wrong. While I did wonder how Tony was going to keep an eye on the guy with only a few subway cameras and an ear-piece, and therefore the presence of the dirty 'transit cop' makes sense, even if it is a bit of an eye-roller, the whole thing is entirely contingent on the station staff not thinking that there is anything suspicious about this very sincere man, who claims he is under the control of terrorists, still being allowed access to the subway after having talked to an officer of the law. He tells the woman at the ticket booth that he has to be quiet because "they're listening" and removes his ear-piece; then, after a little dressing down from the authority figure, he clearly puts the thing back into his ear in full view of the staff members and begins talking into it! Now I don't know about you, but that would certainly raise red flags with me and I'd be getting on the phone to the local PD ASAP. This would have been a far, far better and more organic way of allowing the FBI to gain the upper hand and thwart the situation than the method that is actually used. Magically, Chloe and Janis (more on them later) manage to locate Tony's cell within about fifteen minutes of the evil henchman's phone call, despite this highly-skilled, well-versed and technologically-sound ex-government agent having placed some sort of uber-clever scrambling encryption type thing on it. No, despite his years of training and almost unrivalled skill, Almeida is still unable to mask his trail from the all-knowing, all-powerful CTU/FBI whizzkids.
Oh and just to make matters worse, he can't even do a good job of obliterating his hand-held device! Oh no wait, he can. Chloe says it can't be salvaged, it's been bashed to smithereens! But wait! Janis can save the day with some completely nonsensical technobabble that has no grounding whatsoever in reality! Huzzah! The device is back up and running within five minutes AND, just to make things even more convenient, the FBI have access to absolutely everything that was on there, right down to the appearance of all the applications that were running on their screens! Yahoo! This means they can tap directly into Jibran's ear piece and Jack can talk hurriedly, but compassionately, with him and get him to run like a madman through Washington station, with the bag completely open so that the whole world can see the cylindrical object that looks like a bomb! Great idea! And of course, this means that the good guys can intercept the canister just in the nick of time, despite there being one minute and twenty seconds on the timer when Jibran is still on the train, and it taking him longer than that to get outside, where Jack, Renee and the world's most convenient HAZMAT room are waiting! This is so depressingly easy, it's laughable. When Jack throws the canister into the safe room and jams the door shut just before it explodes, I was reminded of the utterly risible 'fridge freezer' scene from the season three finale... and that's something I never wanted to see echoed again. Far, far too convenient and utterly unbelievable. Colour me unimpressed.
Okay, so the writers dropped the ball on the bio-terrorism storyline, but surely they've got an ace up their sleeves, right? Something even better and more epic to keep us engaged for the mother of all finales? Think again, buster. We've got Kim. Yes, that's right: Kim 'well rodger me with a cougar, I'm just so damn useless' Bauer, Elisha Cuthbert... the annoying one. Sigh. Haven't the writers learned anything from seasons past? The character is so denigrated by this point, so loathed after years of being endlessly chased around for no good reason, kidnapped, shot at, locked in mysterious bunkers with creepy individuals and so on and on and on, that we just don't care anymore. Her life, as far as a large proportion of the viewing audience is concerned, really doesn't matter. And now we're going to be treated to two episodes where she's the central focus of the terrorists' dastardly deeds? It's a huge, huge let-down, almost akin to the focus of last season's final episodes being on Josh fracking Bauer or whatever the hell his bloody surname was. And just to hammer home the point that every scene she's in spells doom for the show, her entire storyline in this episode is both astonishingly ridiculous and unbelievably annoying. First, we have a pointless telephone conversation with her boyfriend, which achieves nothing other than filling in a bit of time (presumably, the script underran), but also contains one of the most absurd lines of dialogue this writer has ever heard: when Kim tells her fella that her flight is delayed by a couple of hours, he replies, "well, maybe you should see this as a sign to stay with your dad." Oh please. Who says this sort of thing? Honestly, I thought this was going to be a lead-in to some asinine adultery plot, in which he's trying to keep Kim away because he's banging one of his fellow nurses on the side, but no, apparently it was just a crap line.
Then, lo and behold, Kim notices that a dodgy man appears to be spying on her! Well, we couldn't have her not be involved in the central plot, could we? No, that would be too easy. Of course, this turns out just to be a guy that Jack has assigned to keep an eye on his daughter, so we all breathe a huge sigh of relief. At this point, it seems like the writers are just toying with us, having a bit of fun with our expectations and laughing at their own clichés. Unfortunately, that gives them far, far too much credit. Ten minutes later, they completely undo all of this with the introduction of the single worst plot element of the season: the evil coffee-drinking, newspaper-reading couple who Kim just so happens to decide to sit beside when she's creeped out by Jack's aide. These two have been planted by the mysterious evil lawyer, apparently as yet another contingency plan just in case Tony is apprehended (how many back-ups do these people have, honestly?!) and now, they're going to 'keep an eye on her' so that Bauer will do whatever the crazy bespectacled and wigged woman wants. She guarantees his co-operation, hilariously, by sending his phone a live webcam feed of Kim, which is also on display in the most extraordinarily subtle fashion on the full screen of evil coffee-drinker's laptop, where any casual passer-by, or person in direct line of vision, could see it. And now, with his daughter's life threatened, Jack has to free Tony from FBI custody, thereby implicating himself and setting the scene for everyone in the show to start chasing after him for the umpteenth time in the day. Frankly, I can't think of anything I'd like to see less. Evidently, the writers are trying to recreate the formula that made season one such a success, right down to having the bad guy in constant communication with Jack via an ear-piece (Ira Gaines, anyone?) However, back then, the narrative was both fresh and completely organic: the drive of the season, from the get go, was the counterpointing of two threats, one against Senator Palmer and the other against Jack's family. We bought into these stories because they were with us from the start. Here, the escalation of the situation to a personal level just feels forced, coming completely out of nowhere and therefore jarring with what has gone before. While this inevitably has some emotional and dramatic promise, and will probably lead to a number of excellent scenes for Sutherland, the viewer is far less invested, seeing it for the artificial U-turn that it is.
Sadly, the remaining plot strands aren't much better. While certain elements of Olivia's story remain strong, most notably her continued unravelling and the fact that it is simply her contact who got Hodges all blowed up, not some ridiculous third party conspirator, its trajectory becomes questionable once Aaron starts calling up Ethan and asking about 'the voice activated recording system that allows staff meetings to be logged and archived'. Riiiight. So there's this magical device that records everything that happens in the Chief of Staff's office at the drop of a single word and Olivia wouldn't be briefed on this when she's promoted to the position? You've got to be kidding me, yeah? I suppose I should give the writers the benefit of the doubt here since the story hasn't actually played out, but I'll bet good money that everything she's said 'in private' has been conveniently captured on the audio recorder. And in any case, why wouldn't Ethan turn the damn thing off? He had plenty time to pack up and tidy away when he resigned. And just when was the last time they had a staff meeting in his office, for crying out loud? 12+ hours ago? More? This is yet another example of monumentally lazy writing, a quick and ill-thought out way of getting from A to B, that could easily have been rectified with a little more thought.
Elsewhere, the bickering between Chloe and Janis is probably the biggest waste of space since Chase's baby turned up and started crapping all over CTU's freshly-opened sockets back in year three. This is completely pointless stuff, tired, clichéd filler that does nothing other than annoy the viewer. We certainly don't care enough about either character to invest in their argument and there is absolutely no reward whatsoever in the utterly transparent resolution of the storyline, in which Janeane Garofolo actually proves her worth to the almighty Ms O'Brien. Just look at some of the dialogue between the pair of 'em: "Do you have something you'd like to say to me?" "What?" "How about good job Janis?" "Oh you don't know me but if you did, you would know that this is not the place you should look for validation." Euck. Pass the sick bucket, this crap is making me nauseous. Oh and while we're on the subject, the unbelievably cheesy nods between Jack and Gohar and the subsequent over-the-top three-way hug involving the brothers and their priest made me want to blow chunks too.
In the space of a single episode, the 24 writing staff have managed to undo just about everything that has made the show such a delight to watch this year. While there are moments of brilliance - the semi-torture of the henchman, the incredibly violent and emotional scene between Jack and Tony - they are so few and far between that they barely have any impact. The rest of '5am - 6am' is a narratalogical car crash, unravelling in painfully slow motion: with every step, the story delves deeper and deeper into the asinine and the ridiculous, stopping off several times at clichéd and predictable along the way. From the lacklustre culmination of the bio-terrorist storyline to the irritating reintroduction of Kim, by way of Janis and Chloe's argument from hell, things just get worse and worse until, by episode's end, it's difficult to care any more. From the looks of the cliffhanger, it appears that the two hour season finale will be a retread of season one, featuring Bauer working to free his 'kidnapped' daughter by obeying the terrorists' every evil whim while the government chases after him because they think he's dirty. Great. Let's hope the writers have a few tricks up their sleeves, eh? Otherwise, to quote a certain Mr. Bauer, we may need to "lock down this piece of crap" before it's too late. 3.7
Monday, 11 May 2009
It's #musicmonday time.
1. SUCIOPERRO: 'Grace and Out of Me'
Absolutely fantastic band whose new album, Pain Agency, is probably the best thing I've heard so far this year. Credit to Mr. Joe Parry of July Rising for introducing me to their music and giving me the opportunity to meet the lead singer, who had apparently pissed his pants. Delightful.
2. MARMADUKE DUKE: 'Kid Gloves'
Predictable, but nice, segway here into the second pick: the lead singer of Sucioperro is also in this deliciously bizarre duo, known for playing gigs in women's clothing and gimp suits. But not necessarily at the same time.
3. BIFFY CLYRO: 'Folding Stars'
Well, might as well carry on the musical connections while we're on a roll, eh? The other guy in Marmaduke Duke's slightly more famous band. J'adore this song. Great one to yell at the top of your voice when no one's around.
4. IDLEWILD: 'Everyone Says You're So Fragile'
What's the connection here? Country of origin, of course. The criminally underrated and overlooked Idlewild also hail from Bonny Scotland and have a new album out very, very soon. It'll be awesome, guaranteed. They always are. And and and... I get to see them perform four of their six LPs in their entirety in London in a couple of weeks! Cannot f-ing wait. Anyway, 'Everyone Says You're So Fragile' is from their messier early days. Altogether now, "HYAAAAAAGH!"
5. DIE! DIE! DIE!: '155'
Okay, I've given up on the connections now. Die! Die! Die! hail from New Zealand and are playing the Head of Steam tomorrow night. They're a bit insane, so it'll be well worth the 2 or 3 quid you'll pay to get in.
6. SPRAYDOG: 'Prizefighters'
These guys aren't supporting Die! Die! Die! tomorrow evening, but one of the members of the band is in the group that are, The Black Static of Summer. Nothing on the 'tube from them, but Spraydog are well worth checking out. This video, filmed out and about in good ol' Newcastle upon Tyne, is pretty darn cool.
7. GREEN DAY: 'Peacemaker'
New album 21st Century Breakdown is a flamboyantly adolescent beauty, epic as, well, a rather epic thing, and this is one of my favourite tracks from it. Kinda like a sped up version of 'Misery' but with better lyrics. Can't get it out of the old noggin.
8. WE WERE PROMISED JETPACKS: 'Quiet Little Voices'
Ace band. Playing the Head of Steam on Saturday June 20th and also the Cockpit in Leeds on the 19th, supported by the wonderful July Rising. YOUR FACE NEEDS TO BE AT THAT GIG. One of the best band names I've heard in a long time too.
9. THE GET UP KIDS: 'Action and Action'
Recently reformed and apparently playing a couple of dates in the UK later in the year. This should have you creaming your pants.
10. SAVES THE DAY: 'See You (Live - Acoustic)'
And one more for the emo inside. Some wonderful imagery in this wonderful, wonderful song. 'My head is swirling/Been carried off in the sky/And where it lands is where it lands/I guess that I/Will get another head and get on with my life...' Ah, bliss.
Absolutely fantastic band whose new album, Pain Agency, is probably the best thing I've heard so far this year. Credit to Mr. Joe Parry of July Rising for introducing me to their music and giving me the opportunity to meet the lead singer, who had apparently pissed his pants. Delightful.
2. MARMADUKE DUKE: 'Kid Gloves'
Predictable, but nice, segway here into the second pick: the lead singer of Sucioperro is also in this deliciously bizarre duo, known for playing gigs in women's clothing and gimp suits. But not necessarily at the same time.
3. BIFFY CLYRO: 'Folding Stars'
Well, might as well carry on the musical connections while we're on a roll, eh? The other guy in Marmaduke Duke's slightly more famous band. J'adore this song. Great one to yell at the top of your voice when no one's around.
4. IDLEWILD: 'Everyone Says You're So Fragile'
What's the connection here? Country of origin, of course. The criminally underrated and overlooked Idlewild also hail from Bonny Scotland and have a new album out very, very soon. It'll be awesome, guaranteed. They always are. And and and... I get to see them perform four of their six LPs in their entirety in London in a couple of weeks! Cannot f-ing wait. Anyway, 'Everyone Says You're So Fragile' is from their messier early days. Altogether now, "HYAAAAAAGH!"
5. DIE! DIE! DIE!: '155'
Okay, I've given up on the connections now. Die! Die! Die! hail from New Zealand and are playing the Head of Steam tomorrow night. They're a bit insane, so it'll be well worth the 2 or 3 quid you'll pay to get in.
6. SPRAYDOG: 'Prizefighters'
These guys aren't supporting Die! Die! Die! tomorrow evening, but one of the members of the band is in the group that are, The Black Static of Summer. Nothing on the 'tube from them, but Spraydog are well worth checking out. This video, filmed out and about in good ol' Newcastle upon Tyne, is pretty darn cool.
7. GREEN DAY: 'Peacemaker'
New album 21st Century Breakdown is a flamboyantly adolescent beauty, epic as, well, a rather epic thing, and this is one of my favourite tracks from it. Kinda like a sped up version of 'Misery' but with better lyrics. Can't get it out of the old noggin.
8. WE WERE PROMISED JETPACKS: 'Quiet Little Voices'
Ace band. Playing the Head of Steam on Saturday June 20th and also the Cockpit in Leeds on the 19th, supported by the wonderful July Rising. YOUR FACE NEEDS TO BE AT THAT GIG. One of the best band names I've heard in a long time too.
9. THE GET UP KIDS: 'Action and Action'
Recently reformed and apparently playing a couple of dates in the UK later in the year. This should have you creaming your pants.
10. SAVES THE DAY: 'See You (Live - Acoustic)'
And one more for the emo inside. Some wonderful imagery in this wonderful, wonderful song. 'My head is swirling/Been carried off in the sky/And where it lands is where it lands/I guess that I/Will get another head and get on with my life...' Ah, bliss.
Review: Desperate Housewives #522 ('Marry Me a Little')
522: 'Marry Me A Little'
Wr: Jason Ganzel
Dr: Larry Shaw
Synopsis: Bree goes to extremes to hide her true intentions from Orson, while Susan and Jackson (guest star Gale Harold) put on an act for the authorities. Lynette is shocked at the lengths Tom will go to in order to look younger, and Katherine masks the truth from Mike, afraid to lose him. Meanwhile, Dave is on edge when he learns a key witness to his misdeeds surfaces.
Review: As a lead-in to next week's grand season finale, 'Marry Me a Little' feels rather underwhelming. While the stakes are certainly raised for a few of the housewives, the stories themselves suffer from a number of irritating flaws. Take Susan's marriage of convenience to Jackson: not only do the writers continue to annihilate all the character development she's acquired since deciding to go it alone earlier in the season, by having her mutter gloriously pathetic lines like, "oh I've been so lonely without you Jackson!", but now they're funnelling the thoroughly artificial cracks in Mike and Katherine's relationship through it as well. How utterly, utterly predictable that Mike would start to realise that he's still in love with his ex-wife as soon as she turned up on his doorstep with her new beau in tow! Oh, and just in case there's any doubt as to the truth of that, Mary Alice even remarks, over a shot of Mr. Delfino at episode's end, that 'others cover up a love that continues to linger'. Well, that's just great. There's nothing like stringing a fanbase along for five seasons, playing seemingly never-ending games of will they/won't they with a couple, putting them together, splitting them up, promising marriage, giving him amnesia, getting them together again, splitting them up again and now... well, more than probably getting them together. Again. Don't tell me that as soon as she gets the first whiff of feeling from Mike, Susan isn't going to run head first into his plumberly arms, abandoning all of her feelings for Jackson and pretending like the last few years never happened. It's the only story that the writers know how to tell, the only one they seem to think will reward and engage their audience (remember the British guy in season three?) Well sorry guys, but I've got a newsflash for ya: we're tired of it. We're sick of being jerked around, sick of being promised something but never truly given it, and most of all, we're sick of being expected to buy into every insipid twist and turn in this most ghastly of narratives. How are we ever supposed to invest in any of the other relationships that Mike and Susan may individually become involved in, if they're always going to abandon them for each other by the time the season finale comes around? And more importantly than that, how are we supposed to care about them being together at all if you're just going to screw it up and take it away from us again? Frankly, I'm done with the whole thing.
Sure, I'm possibly jumping the gun here; perhaps the writers won't reunite the two and surprise us all, but I don't exactly have high hopes given their past record. And in any case, look what it's done to Mike and Katherine's relationship. You can pretty much kiss that one goodbye in the season finale, now that he's made the most pathetic and insincere marriage proposal EVER and she's acted like an emotionally transparent idiot, giving completely over-the-top reactions to Susan and Jackson's matrimonial bliss and, most ridiculously of all, pretending to be Mike so that the wedding will go ahead. This one is so full of holes, it barely even holds together: so Susan receives a message saying she'll get the alimony. What's to stop her actually CALLING Mike back about this rather huge issue that probably shouldn't be discussed by the medium of text? Okay, so Katherine could just choose not to answer... but um, Susan will inevitably communicate with Mike at some point in the not too distant future, seeing as, you know, he's doing her this huge favour. Katherine can't intercept every call she might make to the guy, or be around him 24/7 so that she can turn the tide of the conversation. The cat will inevitably come scampering right out of the bag and her duplicitous antics will be revealed in all their ill-thought-out glory. This is just lazy writing, desperately trying to manufacture some additional conflict in a relationship that is already going down the drain thanks to all the 'oh, they want different things' anvils we've been hit over the head with for the past few weeks. It's not needed, guys; in fact, this entire fracturing of their relationship isn't needed, as we can all see it for what it really is: a tired excuse to reignite a spark that was lost years ago.
The other narratives fare a little better but they're still not without their problems. The writers continue to assassinate Bree's character by turning her into a criminal, even going so far as to include an unnecessarily over-dramatic pre-credits sequence in which a late night conversation between she and Karl reads like the kind of top secret rendezvous between a pair of dirty government agents you might see in a show like 24. It's shot in the shadows, with the characters almost completely in black, as if, because their dialogue is duplicitous, they have to look duplicitous too... like how, if I'm feeling happy, I always wear bright colours and if I'm angry, well, I venture deep into the red section of my wardrobe. Sure, the scene is well shot and it does make for a nice homage, but as a believable piece of the plot, it falls horribly flat. It doesn't help that the whole thing is completely out of character for Bree, either. She's happy to commit fraud? She'll burgle her own home? I really, really don't think so. While it's nice to see Richard Burgi again, delivering those delicious one-liners with great aplomb, and there is at least some form of redemption being offered for Orson as he begins to see how his actions could have affected other people, there's too much suspension of disbelief for it to work, too much 'fitting the character around the story', so to speak. Let's hope the writers course correct in the finale, restoring the equilibrium by having both parties realise how selfish and ridiculous they've acted for the past few weeks.
At least this narrative appears to have some form of direction, however: Lynette/Tom and Gaby/Carlos's stories have been wandering around aimlessly for a while now, lacking the momentum that is needed to keep us interested for those crucial final hours. Their stories are self-contained here, serving little purpose other than to reinforce certain facets of their characters. While Tom's dalliances with plastic surgery are mildly amusing at times, and the scenes between Gaby and the lady at the soup kitchen are well written and acted, they are relatively pointless time-fillers, contributing nothing to the on-going plot. This is not always needed of course; there is certainly scope for introspection and character development, but this late in the season, the writers really need to be upping their game, not resting on their laurels. And sadly, that's a good summation of the episode. We fall back, once again, on the familiar: from Tom's mid-life crisis to the bleeding ballad of Mike Delfino and Susan fracking Myer, there's very little here that we haven't seen before. This doesn't make 'Marry Me a Little' a bad episode; it just makes it one that it's hard to really care about. 5.9
Wr: Jason Ganzel
Dr: Larry Shaw
Synopsis: Bree goes to extremes to hide her true intentions from Orson, while Susan and Jackson (guest star Gale Harold) put on an act for the authorities. Lynette is shocked at the lengths Tom will go to in order to look younger, and Katherine masks the truth from Mike, afraid to lose him. Meanwhile, Dave is on edge when he learns a key witness to his misdeeds surfaces.
Review: As a lead-in to next week's grand season finale, 'Marry Me a Little' feels rather underwhelming. While the stakes are certainly raised for a few of the housewives, the stories themselves suffer from a number of irritating flaws. Take Susan's marriage of convenience to Jackson: not only do the writers continue to annihilate all the character development she's acquired since deciding to go it alone earlier in the season, by having her mutter gloriously pathetic lines like, "oh I've been so lonely without you Jackson!", but now they're funnelling the thoroughly artificial cracks in Mike and Katherine's relationship through it as well. How utterly, utterly predictable that Mike would start to realise that he's still in love with his ex-wife as soon as she turned up on his doorstep with her new beau in tow! Oh, and just in case there's any doubt as to the truth of that, Mary Alice even remarks, over a shot of Mr. Delfino at episode's end, that 'others cover up a love that continues to linger'. Well, that's just great. There's nothing like stringing a fanbase along for five seasons, playing seemingly never-ending games of will they/won't they with a couple, putting them together, splitting them up, promising marriage, giving him amnesia, getting them together again, splitting them up again and now... well, more than probably getting them together. Again. Don't tell me that as soon as she gets the first whiff of feeling from Mike, Susan isn't going to run head first into his plumberly arms, abandoning all of her feelings for Jackson and pretending like the last few years never happened. It's the only story that the writers know how to tell, the only one they seem to think will reward and engage their audience (remember the British guy in season three?) Well sorry guys, but I've got a newsflash for ya: we're tired of it. We're sick of being jerked around, sick of being promised something but never truly given it, and most of all, we're sick of being expected to buy into every insipid twist and turn in this most ghastly of narratives. How are we ever supposed to invest in any of the other relationships that Mike and Susan may individually become involved in, if they're always going to abandon them for each other by the time the season finale comes around? And more importantly than that, how are we supposed to care about them being together at all if you're just going to screw it up and take it away from us again? Frankly, I'm done with the whole thing.
Sure, I'm possibly jumping the gun here; perhaps the writers won't reunite the two and surprise us all, but I don't exactly have high hopes given their past record. And in any case, look what it's done to Mike and Katherine's relationship. You can pretty much kiss that one goodbye in the season finale, now that he's made the most pathetic and insincere marriage proposal EVER and she's acted like an emotionally transparent idiot, giving completely over-the-top reactions to Susan and Jackson's matrimonial bliss and, most ridiculously of all, pretending to be Mike so that the wedding will go ahead. This one is so full of holes, it barely even holds together: so Susan receives a message saying she'll get the alimony. What's to stop her actually CALLING Mike back about this rather huge issue that probably shouldn't be discussed by the medium of text? Okay, so Katherine could just choose not to answer... but um, Susan will inevitably communicate with Mike at some point in the not too distant future, seeing as, you know, he's doing her this huge favour. Katherine can't intercept every call she might make to the guy, or be around him 24/7 so that she can turn the tide of the conversation. The cat will inevitably come scampering right out of the bag and her duplicitous antics will be revealed in all their ill-thought-out glory. This is just lazy writing, desperately trying to manufacture some additional conflict in a relationship that is already going down the drain thanks to all the 'oh, they want different things' anvils we've been hit over the head with for the past few weeks. It's not needed, guys; in fact, this entire fracturing of their relationship isn't needed, as we can all see it for what it really is: a tired excuse to reignite a spark that was lost years ago.
The other narratives fare a little better but they're still not without their problems. The writers continue to assassinate Bree's character by turning her into a criminal, even going so far as to include an unnecessarily over-dramatic pre-credits sequence in which a late night conversation between she and Karl reads like the kind of top secret rendezvous between a pair of dirty government agents you might see in a show like 24. It's shot in the shadows, with the characters almost completely in black, as if, because their dialogue is duplicitous, they have to look duplicitous too... like how, if I'm feeling happy, I always wear bright colours and if I'm angry, well, I venture deep into the red section of my wardrobe. Sure, the scene is well shot and it does make for a nice homage, but as a believable piece of the plot, it falls horribly flat. It doesn't help that the whole thing is completely out of character for Bree, either. She's happy to commit fraud? She'll burgle her own home? I really, really don't think so. While it's nice to see Richard Burgi again, delivering those delicious one-liners with great aplomb, and there is at least some form of redemption being offered for Orson as he begins to see how his actions could have affected other people, there's too much suspension of disbelief for it to work, too much 'fitting the character around the story', so to speak. Let's hope the writers course correct in the finale, restoring the equilibrium by having both parties realise how selfish and ridiculous they've acted for the past few weeks.
At least this narrative appears to have some form of direction, however: Lynette/Tom and Gaby/Carlos's stories have been wandering around aimlessly for a while now, lacking the momentum that is needed to keep us interested for those crucial final hours. Their stories are self-contained here, serving little purpose other than to reinforce certain facets of their characters. While Tom's dalliances with plastic surgery are mildly amusing at times, and the scenes between Gaby and the lady at the soup kitchen are well written and acted, they are relatively pointless time-fillers, contributing nothing to the on-going plot. This is not always needed of course; there is certainly scope for introspection and character development, but this late in the season, the writers really need to be upping their game, not resting on their laurels. And sadly, that's a good summation of the episode. We fall back, once again, on the familiar: from Tom's mid-life crisis to the bleeding ballad of Mike Delfino and Susan fracking Myer, there's very little here that we haven't seen before. This doesn't make 'Marry Me a Little' a bad episode; it just makes it one that it's hard to really care about. 5.9
Saturday, 9 May 2009
Review: Prison Break #420 ('Cowboys and Indians')
420: 'Cowboys and Indians'
Wr: Nick Santora
Dr: Milan Cheylov
Synopsis: Michael must make a choice as chaos reigns at the energy conference.
Review: Thankfully, Prison Break appears to be finding its feet again after a decidedly lacklustre start to its final run. 'Cowboys and Indians' returns some of the nail-biting tension of old by actually integrating a semblance of structure into its narrative. Where the past three weeks have essentially consisted of pointless runarounds, chasing one party interested in Scylla, then the next, then starting all over again, here, Nick Santora actually takes time out to construct a solid conflict for our central characters. Linc and Michael's struggle to escape from the hotel is just the kind of interesting scenario that has kept the show going for the past four years. Throwing a seemingly impossible problem at the brothers and watching as they unpack it and hopefully outwit the bad guys is a major part of the programme's appeal; in fact, it's what season one and earlier elements of this season were predicated upon. Sure, the dilemmas were ultimately part of a much larger sequence of problems that needed to be resolved in order to obtain an ultimate goal (escaping from Fox River in year one, obtaining Scylla prior to #413), and that's arguably what these last few episodes could do with in order to elevate them beyond mediocrity, but it is pleasing to see the strategy reintroduced in at least some small way nevertheless. It binds the viewer to the characters, investing us in their plight, and makes it seem like there is some sense of purpose to the whole thing.
It is also refreshing to see the scenario taking up a considerable proportion of the hour: not having Linc and Michael escape out of the back exit within two seconds of the opening credits is arguably akin to taking 'the road less travelled' these days and it is certainly far more believable than some of the great boulders of convenience that have come crashing down on all our heads in the past three weeks. Still, this particular plot element is not without its problems: while it is certainly good to see the cop realising that Michael and Linc aren't members of his squad, just how many times do we have to see people dressing up in the uniform of their hunters in order to 'beguile' the enemy and escape? For one, what are the odds that the clothes are going to fit AT ALL and for another, it takes quite a bit of time to undress a guy and slip his clothes on (assuming, of course, that you just put his gear on on top of yours and don't remove yours too). There certainly wasn't enough time between the realisation that an explosion had occurred and the movement of the remaining officers up to the 16th floor for the brothers to have achieved this. Oh and reverting back to a slightly earlier point in this strand, why oh why would you stand around in the spot that a gunman executed a leading politician from for what, five minutes, in full view of the masses of law enforcement? Get down! Get out of there! And I also have a hard time buying that there are no security cameras that could have caught the actual assailant in the act at any point, although I suppose it is arguable that this avenue simply wouldn't have been pursued yet in light of all the other evidence that points to the brothers' involvement.
While the hotel escapades are highly suspenseful, the same cannot be said of certain other developments. Christina's interest in engaging both sides in the potential war that will ensue between China and India (anyone else think the General's exposition scene, when he tells the sorry tale of the events in 1962 to Bagwell, was a little ham-fisted?) is delightfully twisted, sure, but did she really have to meet with the Indian Prime Minister less than thirty minutes after his son was executed? I'll accept that perhaps he was in the country anyway to support his son's endeavour, fine, but the boy's body isn't even in the morgue yet, for crying out loud! You'd think he'd be a little bit more concerned with grieving than plotting complex revenge schemes that involve the manipulation of the technology that his son was interested in procuring. This really should have been held back until the later stages of the episode, perhaps even one of the final scenes, in order for it to seem less abrupt and forced. That way, the story that unfolds after Michael and Linc escape from the hotel could have been fleshed out a little more and hence, become more engaging. As it is, yet again, we are faced with the never-ending game of one-upmanship, in which a player makes a move and then another player immediately counters it, so the original player is forced to regroup and reclaim, and so on and on and on. In this case, Christina is about to check the money and lo and behold, a scene or two later, Michael figures out her entire plan and intercepts it, acquiring Scylla in the process! It's all far too sudden and as a result, it deprives the plot of any gravitas. The acquiring of Scylla is supposed to be the big end-game, the moment that will change the shape of everything forever, but the device is constantly exchanging hands, passing from interested party to interested party, so it's difficult to buy into the supposed severity of the situation.
Mind, at episode's end, this problem is circumnavigated by the deliverance of one hell of a sucker-punch in Michael's choice of Sarah, Linc or Scylla: oh sure, it's completely artificial and thoroughly unbelievable, but what the hell, it's a superb cliffhanger. Let's just hope the writers don't take the easy way out and introduce a number of irritating deux et machinas to cleanly resolve everything; I'd like to see some difficult decisions being made and, heaven forfend, some palatable consequences. I'm not necessarily advocating Linc's death or anything, mind; in fact, I think his character has been done a great disservice in recent weeks as everyone and everything is preoccupied with demonstrating how supposedly knuckle headed he is. Christina actually remarks that he 'thinks like a cub' in this episode and without any sort of challenging retort from another character, it's just tiresome.
Generally, this is the most satisfying episode that we've been treated to since Prison Break returned. There are a number of genuinely intense dramatic sequences, from Linc and Michael's attempts to escape from the hotel to the wonderful execution of Self's wheelchair-bound wife, kept out of view to amplify the horror of the situation. It also ends on the best cliffhanger we've seen in a long time; one that looks likely to test every fibre of Michael's being in the next instalment and hence produce some very palatable dramatic conflict, providing the writers grab the bull by the horns and don't squander all the opportunity they've generated. There are still problems: once the brothers escape from the hotel, the story becomes a frustrating game of one-upmanship again, and certain minutiae suffer from a distinct absence of believability, but on the whole, this is solid, entertaining stuff. Let's just hope they can keep it up. 7.0
Wr: Nick Santora
Dr: Milan Cheylov
Synopsis: Michael must make a choice as chaos reigns at the energy conference.
Review: Thankfully, Prison Break appears to be finding its feet again after a decidedly lacklustre start to its final run. 'Cowboys and Indians' returns some of the nail-biting tension of old by actually integrating a semblance of structure into its narrative. Where the past three weeks have essentially consisted of pointless runarounds, chasing one party interested in Scylla, then the next, then starting all over again, here, Nick Santora actually takes time out to construct a solid conflict for our central characters. Linc and Michael's struggle to escape from the hotel is just the kind of interesting scenario that has kept the show going for the past four years. Throwing a seemingly impossible problem at the brothers and watching as they unpack it and hopefully outwit the bad guys is a major part of the programme's appeal; in fact, it's what season one and earlier elements of this season were predicated upon. Sure, the dilemmas were ultimately part of a much larger sequence of problems that needed to be resolved in order to obtain an ultimate goal (escaping from Fox River in year one, obtaining Scylla prior to #413), and that's arguably what these last few episodes could do with in order to elevate them beyond mediocrity, but it is pleasing to see the strategy reintroduced in at least some small way nevertheless. It binds the viewer to the characters, investing us in their plight, and makes it seem like there is some sense of purpose to the whole thing.
It is also refreshing to see the scenario taking up a considerable proportion of the hour: not having Linc and Michael escape out of the back exit within two seconds of the opening credits is arguably akin to taking 'the road less travelled' these days and it is certainly far more believable than some of the great boulders of convenience that have come crashing down on all our heads in the past three weeks. Still, this particular plot element is not without its problems: while it is certainly good to see the cop realising that Michael and Linc aren't members of his squad, just how many times do we have to see people dressing up in the uniform of their hunters in order to 'beguile' the enemy and escape? For one, what are the odds that the clothes are going to fit AT ALL and for another, it takes quite a bit of time to undress a guy and slip his clothes on (assuming, of course, that you just put his gear on on top of yours and don't remove yours too). There certainly wasn't enough time between the realisation that an explosion had occurred and the movement of the remaining officers up to the 16th floor for the brothers to have achieved this. Oh and reverting back to a slightly earlier point in this strand, why oh why would you stand around in the spot that a gunman executed a leading politician from for what, five minutes, in full view of the masses of law enforcement? Get down! Get out of there! And I also have a hard time buying that there are no security cameras that could have caught the actual assailant in the act at any point, although I suppose it is arguable that this avenue simply wouldn't have been pursued yet in light of all the other evidence that points to the brothers' involvement.
While the hotel escapades are highly suspenseful, the same cannot be said of certain other developments. Christina's interest in engaging both sides in the potential war that will ensue between China and India (anyone else think the General's exposition scene, when he tells the sorry tale of the events in 1962 to Bagwell, was a little ham-fisted?) is delightfully twisted, sure, but did she really have to meet with the Indian Prime Minister less than thirty minutes after his son was executed? I'll accept that perhaps he was in the country anyway to support his son's endeavour, fine, but the boy's body isn't even in the morgue yet, for crying out loud! You'd think he'd be a little bit more concerned with grieving than plotting complex revenge schemes that involve the manipulation of the technology that his son was interested in procuring. This really should have been held back until the later stages of the episode, perhaps even one of the final scenes, in order for it to seem less abrupt and forced. That way, the story that unfolds after Michael and Linc escape from the hotel could have been fleshed out a little more and hence, become more engaging. As it is, yet again, we are faced with the never-ending game of one-upmanship, in which a player makes a move and then another player immediately counters it, so the original player is forced to regroup and reclaim, and so on and on and on. In this case, Christina is about to check the money and lo and behold, a scene or two later, Michael figures out her entire plan and intercepts it, acquiring Scylla in the process! It's all far too sudden and as a result, it deprives the plot of any gravitas. The acquiring of Scylla is supposed to be the big end-game, the moment that will change the shape of everything forever, but the device is constantly exchanging hands, passing from interested party to interested party, so it's difficult to buy into the supposed severity of the situation.
Mind, at episode's end, this problem is circumnavigated by the deliverance of one hell of a sucker-punch in Michael's choice of Sarah, Linc or Scylla: oh sure, it's completely artificial and thoroughly unbelievable, but what the hell, it's a superb cliffhanger. Let's just hope the writers don't take the easy way out and introduce a number of irritating deux et machinas to cleanly resolve everything; I'd like to see some difficult decisions being made and, heaven forfend, some palatable consequences. I'm not necessarily advocating Linc's death or anything, mind; in fact, I think his character has been done a great disservice in recent weeks as everyone and everything is preoccupied with demonstrating how supposedly knuckle headed he is. Christina actually remarks that he 'thinks like a cub' in this episode and without any sort of challenging retort from another character, it's just tiresome.
Generally, this is the most satisfying episode that we've been treated to since Prison Break returned. There are a number of genuinely intense dramatic sequences, from Linc and Michael's attempts to escape from the hotel to the wonderful execution of Self's wheelchair-bound wife, kept out of view to amplify the horror of the situation. It also ends on the best cliffhanger we've seen in a long time; one that looks likely to test every fibre of Michael's being in the next instalment and hence produce some very palatable dramatic conflict, providing the writers grab the bull by the horns and don't squander all the opportunity they've generated. There are still problems: once the brothers escape from the hotel, the story becomes a frustrating game of one-upmanship again, and certain minutiae suffer from a distinct absence of believability, but on the whole, this is solid, entertaining stuff. Let's just hope they can keep it up. 7.0
Friday, 8 May 2009
Review: Supernatural #421 ('When The Levee Breaks')
421: 'When The Levee Breaks'
Wr: Sera Gamble
Dr: Robert Singer
Synopsis: Sam is locked in Bobby's panic room to cleanse his body from demon blood. However, after several seals are broken Bobby wants to set Sam free to help stop the Apocalypse and Dean seeks out Castiel for help.
Review: This might not be the most action-packed of episodes, or the most revelation-heavy, but that doesn't make it any less epic. The ace up Sera Gamble's sleeve is his expert understanding of Supernatural's two most important elements: Sam and Dean Winchester. The writer has such a potent handle on the motivations that drive the brothers, and indeed the psychological demons that haunt them, that it coats every line of dialogue with an organic sheen, making each harrowing step in the deterioration of their relationship appear naturalistic rather than a forced movement of the plot. And more impressively, the two-handers are actually few and far between. For the vast majority of 'When The Levee Breaks', Sam and Dean are apart, separated first by bars and then by distance. The fact that their ultimate confrontation seems thoroughly logical is a testament to Gamble's ability to delineate their differences in original and engaging ways. Dean's battle with his conscience is played out superbly by having Bobby as his sparring partner; having been represented as something of a wise elder figure in episodes past, he actually begins to question the moral high ground here, apparently unable to cope with the severity of what 'cold turkey' appears to be doing to Sam. Refreshingly, it is Dean who has the 'upper hand' and is able to make the tough decision; his assertion that he'd rather see his brother die than become 'the kind of creature (he) feels compelled to kill' (quoth Castiel) is one of the episode's many highlights.
Sam, meanwhile, is haunted by hallucinations of key figures in his past, each one drawing him further toward his ultimate fate. The brief torture sequence with the best Allister of them all, Christopher Heydenhal, is terrific, keeping the gore to an absolute minimum and generating terror merely through its suggestion. The appearance of wee Sam from 'After School Special' is a pleasant surprise and leads to a wonderful piece of massively Freudian psychoanalysis. But it's the manifestations of Mrs. Winchester and Dean that work most beautifully. While they are clearly distorted versions of the characters, twisted by Sam's somewhat addled psyche, the alterations are only minor tweaks. There is sufficient similarity to the actual characters for the moments to be believable and, more importantly, for the viewer to understand how Sam could come to see them in this light, thereby allowing us to afford him some sympathy. And that is the delectable essence of the episode: in the face of so much anger, resentment and disappointment, so many harrowing words and decisions, Gamble refuses to take sides, preferring instead to illustrate the ambiguity of the argument and showing us how both parties have come to the gargantuan impass that now separates them. Oh sure, there's scope for the viewer to agree with one brother or the other, but the important thing is that we understand the positions of both. This is no black and white scenario. The shades of gray are innumerable... which is something that Him Upstairs is evidently aware of too.
How about Castiel freeing Sam, eh? Talk about your shockers. This is wonderfully executed by the director: the revelation is methodical and understated, with Cas simply appearing in the corner of the shot and not jumping out at us with accompanying overly-dramatic music, screaming "It was me! I did it! Are you surprised?!" Actually, the lack of artificial dramatics is another commendable element of 'When The Levee Breaks': Robert Singer takes a leaf out of the late Kim Manners's book and, in the same vein as superlative season opener 'Lazarus Rising', keeps the soundtrack to a minimum, making only sparse use of musical underscore. Not only does this inject a greater level of realism into the episode, but it also makes it extra eerie, delivering the most epic of character arcs in the quietest fashion. In turn, this creates the perfect set-up for next week's season finale, which promises the struggle to prevent the breaking of the final two or three Seals, a confrontation with Lillith and, most delectably of all, a probable showdown between the brothers Winchester. Who will prevent the apocalypse? Will ANYONE prevent the apocalypse? Will Sam and Dean resolve their issues? Just how much wrath will Deano unleash on Castiel once he finds out what he has done? And perhaps most crucially: exactly how is Eric Kripke going to tie up all of these disparate elements in 45 minutes? We'll have to wait and see. If the finale's anything at all like the rest of this most outstanding of seasons, however, I have nothing but the blindest of faith. 9.2
Wr: Sera Gamble
Dr: Robert Singer
Synopsis: Sam is locked in Bobby's panic room to cleanse his body from demon blood. However, after several seals are broken Bobby wants to set Sam free to help stop the Apocalypse and Dean seeks out Castiel for help.
Review: This might not be the most action-packed of episodes, or the most revelation-heavy, but that doesn't make it any less epic. The ace up Sera Gamble's sleeve is his expert understanding of Supernatural's two most important elements: Sam and Dean Winchester. The writer has such a potent handle on the motivations that drive the brothers, and indeed the psychological demons that haunt them, that it coats every line of dialogue with an organic sheen, making each harrowing step in the deterioration of their relationship appear naturalistic rather than a forced movement of the plot. And more impressively, the two-handers are actually few and far between. For the vast majority of 'When The Levee Breaks', Sam and Dean are apart, separated first by bars and then by distance. The fact that their ultimate confrontation seems thoroughly logical is a testament to Gamble's ability to delineate their differences in original and engaging ways. Dean's battle with his conscience is played out superbly by having Bobby as his sparring partner; having been represented as something of a wise elder figure in episodes past, he actually begins to question the moral high ground here, apparently unable to cope with the severity of what 'cold turkey' appears to be doing to Sam. Refreshingly, it is Dean who has the 'upper hand' and is able to make the tough decision; his assertion that he'd rather see his brother die than become 'the kind of creature (he) feels compelled to kill' (quoth Castiel) is one of the episode's many highlights.
Sam, meanwhile, is haunted by hallucinations of key figures in his past, each one drawing him further toward his ultimate fate. The brief torture sequence with the best Allister of them all, Christopher Heydenhal, is terrific, keeping the gore to an absolute minimum and generating terror merely through its suggestion. The appearance of wee Sam from 'After School Special' is a pleasant surprise and leads to a wonderful piece of massively Freudian psychoanalysis. But it's the manifestations of Mrs. Winchester and Dean that work most beautifully. While they are clearly distorted versions of the characters, twisted by Sam's somewhat addled psyche, the alterations are only minor tweaks. There is sufficient similarity to the actual characters for the moments to be believable and, more importantly, for the viewer to understand how Sam could come to see them in this light, thereby allowing us to afford him some sympathy. And that is the delectable essence of the episode: in the face of so much anger, resentment and disappointment, so many harrowing words and decisions, Gamble refuses to take sides, preferring instead to illustrate the ambiguity of the argument and showing us how both parties have come to the gargantuan impass that now separates them. Oh sure, there's scope for the viewer to agree with one brother or the other, but the important thing is that we understand the positions of both. This is no black and white scenario. The shades of gray are innumerable... which is something that Him Upstairs is evidently aware of too.
How about Castiel freeing Sam, eh? Talk about your shockers. This is wonderfully executed by the director: the revelation is methodical and understated, with Cas simply appearing in the corner of the shot and not jumping out at us with accompanying overly-dramatic music, screaming "It was me! I did it! Are you surprised?!" Actually, the lack of artificial dramatics is another commendable element of 'When The Levee Breaks': Robert Singer takes a leaf out of the late Kim Manners's book and, in the same vein as superlative season opener 'Lazarus Rising', keeps the soundtrack to a minimum, making only sparse use of musical underscore. Not only does this inject a greater level of realism into the episode, but it also makes it extra eerie, delivering the most epic of character arcs in the quietest fashion. In turn, this creates the perfect set-up for next week's season finale, which promises the struggle to prevent the breaking of the final two or three Seals, a confrontation with Lillith and, most delectably of all, a probable showdown between the brothers Winchester. Who will prevent the apocalypse? Will ANYONE prevent the apocalypse? Will Sam and Dean resolve their issues? Just how much wrath will Deano unleash on Castiel once he finds out what he has done? And perhaps most crucially: exactly how is Eric Kripke going to tie up all of these disparate elements in 45 minutes? We'll have to wait and see. If the finale's anything at all like the rest of this most outstanding of seasons, however, I have nothing but the blindest of faith. 9.2
Thursday, 7 May 2009
Review: Lost #515 ('Follow the Leader')
515: 'Follow the Leader'
Wr: Paul Zbyszewski & Elizabeth Sarnoff
Dr: Stephen Williams
Synopsis: Jack and Kate find themselves at odds over the direction to take to save their fellow island survivors, Locke further solidifies his stance as leader of "The Others," and Sawyer and Juliet come under scrutiny from the DHARMA Initiative.
Review: 'Follow the Leader' has the unenviable task of cranking the narrative into third gear in preparation for the season finale, moving the pieces into place to ensure that next week's episode is one hell of a rip-roaring roller-coaster ride (thereby guaranteeing we'll all tune in), while simultaneously making sure that it is a satisfyingly engaging hour of television itself, full of plot movement and interesting character beats. That's no easy feat ladies and gentlemen; all too often, the 'bridge' episodes, as some in the industry call them, fall a little flat because they are too transparent. It can quickly become obvious to the viewer that the story is simply traversing necessary stepping stones and, when one considers how much more sumptuous the ultimate goal will be, it is easy to view these instalments as 'lesser', biding time before the real good stuff kicks in. The objective of set-up pieces, therefore, should be to disguise their function, to ensure that the audience's attention is never allowed to waver. Thankfully, Zbyszewski and Sarnoff manage to do just that, delivering a narrative trifecta that contains enough thoroughly meaty goodness to keep us satisfied.
On Island in the present, Terry O'Quinn continues to rise to the challenge as a 'changed' John Locke, ably demonstrating his new-found confidence in his role as Leader of the Others and also, a kind of Zen in his personality. His exchanges with both Nestor Carbonell and Michael Emerson are top class, asserting the character's independence while simultaneously avoiding seeming bullish or despotic. He seems to be a man of the people, throwing caution and tradition to the wind by having them all accompany him to visit Jacob. Of course, there is an alternative interpretation of this too: if the assertion he makes to Ben at hour's end is correct, could this be a play for power? Is killing Jacob really in the best interests of the Island, or simply the best interests of John Locke? While this interpretation does seem unlikely, his casual disregard for the wants of Sun does tie in with certain more selfish attributes that we have seen his character display in earlier episodes. But there again, one has to question whether the man who has risen above and beyond the duplicity and shadowplay of an individual like Benjamin Linus would really let him in on a secret that would undoubtedly cause a serious amount of dissent among the Others, and particularly their 'advisor' Richard Alpert. This could be a ruse of some kind, designed to somehow discredit Ben, much as the bespectacled one has done to Locke in the past. Of course, this is all conjecture and we'll undoubtedly find out the truth next week, but the fact that there is enough ambiguity to validate all of these possibilities speaks volumes about the quality of the writing.
In the Others' camp in 1977, Farraday thankfully remains dead as a doornail, further reinforcing the validity of the whole 'whatever happened, happened' approach to time travel that has already been established in the show's mythology. As much as I adore the character, I'm glad to see this decision taken as not only does it provide the perfect cyclical closure for both him and his story, it's also a very brave step for a programme to ruthlessly kill off one of the most popular members of its cast (and yeah, I will give Farraday that mantle: there's so much love for him on the online forums, it's untrue). It demonstrates a determination of vision, asserting that the writers will remain on course for their end-game, regardless of whether it may upset a few fragile souls along the way. And they clearly don't have a problem with knocking the main cast about either: just look at that delicious head injury that Jack sustains at the hands of Callous Other #43. That s**t is nasty; and while we're on the subject, Sawyer's face ain't too pretty by episode's end either... oh, and what about Juliet and her busted lip? Evil, evil Phil! Still, Jack, Sayid, Richard and Elousie all pals by the time the third act comes around and they're swimming into the tunnels under the temple to retrieve the hydrogen bomb. Now, while I'm suitably engaged by the whole 'we can change everything' plot strand, I have a hard time buying that this is how everything is going to play out. Lindelof and Cuse have placed far too much emphasis on the notion that the Losties in 1977 are unable to change the way the course of events play out in the future, only influence them so that they do play out in this way (Sayid shooting Ben, Farraday telling Chang the truth so that he'll evacuate the women and children off the Island, thereby ensuring Miles and Charlotte's respective histories are as they should be etc. etc.), for a complete about turn to be successfully orchestrated at this stage. Something is inevitably going to go wrong, although of what it is, I cannot be certain. Perhaps the actions of these four will have a bearing on the Incident at the Swan station. Perhaps the electromagnetic release will go some way to contributing to the return of the Losties to 2007. Whatever, if this thread does change the sequence of events that have already been established, it'll be a major, major let-down.
Our final plot element concentrates on the ever-decreasing fortunes of poor, poor Sawyer and Juliet who get smacked about a bit by the clearly deranged Radzinsky and eventually make a pact to leave the Island in exchange for the location of the hostiles. Well, this was a turn up for the books, wasn't it? They get on the sub? And actually seem to leave? Can't say I saw that one coming; I'm sufficiently intrigued as to how this will play out. Of course, there is the inevitable niggling suspicion that something is going to go wrong and that they won't be able to get away for whatever reason but still, congratulations to the writing staff for at least piquing my interest in this storyline in preparation for the finale. The only criticism I have here is of the convenient late arrival of Ms Austen, which feels more like a forced attempt to manufacture some conflict where it really isn't wanted. Convenience is the cause of the episode's only other weak moment too, as Sayid's sudden miraculous appearance just in the nick of time to save Kate from Callous Other #44 is more than a little unbelievable. These are both minor gripes however, and they have little bearing on the quality of the episode. 'Follow the Leader' sets the wheels in motion for next week's heart-stoppingly grandiose finale in deliciously fulfilling fashion. There's an abundance of points to ponder, some excellently written individual scenes and a whole barrel full of plot progression to boot. Let's hope that all the promise we see here is ultimately realised... and then some. 9.0
Wr: Paul Zbyszewski & Elizabeth Sarnoff
Dr: Stephen Williams
Synopsis: Jack and Kate find themselves at odds over the direction to take to save their fellow island survivors, Locke further solidifies his stance as leader of "The Others," and Sawyer and Juliet come under scrutiny from the DHARMA Initiative.
Review: 'Follow the Leader' has the unenviable task of cranking the narrative into third gear in preparation for the season finale, moving the pieces into place to ensure that next week's episode is one hell of a rip-roaring roller-coaster ride (thereby guaranteeing we'll all tune in), while simultaneously making sure that it is a satisfyingly engaging hour of television itself, full of plot movement and interesting character beats. That's no easy feat ladies and gentlemen; all too often, the 'bridge' episodes, as some in the industry call them, fall a little flat because they are too transparent. It can quickly become obvious to the viewer that the story is simply traversing necessary stepping stones and, when one considers how much more sumptuous the ultimate goal will be, it is easy to view these instalments as 'lesser', biding time before the real good stuff kicks in. The objective of set-up pieces, therefore, should be to disguise their function, to ensure that the audience's attention is never allowed to waver. Thankfully, Zbyszewski and Sarnoff manage to do just that, delivering a narrative trifecta that contains enough thoroughly meaty goodness to keep us satisfied.
On Island in the present, Terry O'Quinn continues to rise to the challenge as a 'changed' John Locke, ably demonstrating his new-found confidence in his role as Leader of the Others and also, a kind of Zen in his personality. His exchanges with both Nestor Carbonell and Michael Emerson are top class, asserting the character's independence while simultaneously avoiding seeming bullish or despotic. He seems to be a man of the people, throwing caution and tradition to the wind by having them all accompany him to visit Jacob. Of course, there is an alternative interpretation of this too: if the assertion he makes to Ben at hour's end is correct, could this be a play for power? Is killing Jacob really in the best interests of the Island, or simply the best interests of John Locke? While this interpretation does seem unlikely, his casual disregard for the wants of Sun does tie in with certain more selfish attributes that we have seen his character display in earlier episodes. But there again, one has to question whether the man who has risen above and beyond the duplicity and shadowplay of an individual like Benjamin Linus would really let him in on a secret that would undoubtedly cause a serious amount of dissent among the Others, and particularly their 'advisor' Richard Alpert. This could be a ruse of some kind, designed to somehow discredit Ben, much as the bespectacled one has done to Locke in the past. Of course, this is all conjecture and we'll undoubtedly find out the truth next week, but the fact that there is enough ambiguity to validate all of these possibilities speaks volumes about the quality of the writing.
In the Others' camp in 1977, Farraday thankfully remains dead as a doornail, further reinforcing the validity of the whole 'whatever happened, happened' approach to time travel that has already been established in the show's mythology. As much as I adore the character, I'm glad to see this decision taken as not only does it provide the perfect cyclical closure for both him and his story, it's also a very brave step for a programme to ruthlessly kill off one of the most popular members of its cast (and yeah, I will give Farraday that mantle: there's so much love for him on the online forums, it's untrue). It demonstrates a determination of vision, asserting that the writers will remain on course for their end-game, regardless of whether it may upset a few fragile souls along the way. And they clearly don't have a problem with knocking the main cast about either: just look at that delicious head injury that Jack sustains at the hands of Callous Other #43. That s**t is nasty; and while we're on the subject, Sawyer's face ain't too pretty by episode's end either... oh, and what about Juliet and her busted lip? Evil, evil Phil! Still, Jack, Sayid, Richard and Elousie all pals by the time the third act comes around and they're swimming into the tunnels under the temple to retrieve the hydrogen bomb. Now, while I'm suitably engaged by the whole 'we can change everything' plot strand, I have a hard time buying that this is how everything is going to play out. Lindelof and Cuse have placed far too much emphasis on the notion that the Losties in 1977 are unable to change the way the course of events play out in the future, only influence them so that they do play out in this way (Sayid shooting Ben, Farraday telling Chang the truth so that he'll evacuate the women and children off the Island, thereby ensuring Miles and Charlotte's respective histories are as they should be etc. etc.), for a complete about turn to be successfully orchestrated at this stage. Something is inevitably going to go wrong, although of what it is, I cannot be certain. Perhaps the actions of these four will have a bearing on the Incident at the Swan station. Perhaps the electromagnetic release will go some way to contributing to the return of the Losties to 2007. Whatever, if this thread does change the sequence of events that have already been established, it'll be a major, major let-down.
Our final plot element concentrates on the ever-decreasing fortunes of poor, poor Sawyer and Juliet who get smacked about a bit by the clearly deranged Radzinsky and eventually make a pact to leave the Island in exchange for the location of the hostiles. Well, this was a turn up for the books, wasn't it? They get on the sub? And actually seem to leave? Can't say I saw that one coming; I'm sufficiently intrigued as to how this will play out. Of course, there is the inevitable niggling suspicion that something is going to go wrong and that they won't be able to get away for whatever reason but still, congratulations to the writing staff for at least piquing my interest in this storyline in preparation for the finale. The only criticism I have here is of the convenient late arrival of Ms Austen, which feels more like a forced attempt to manufacture some conflict where it really isn't wanted. Convenience is the cause of the episode's only other weak moment too, as Sayid's sudden miraculous appearance just in the nick of time to save Kate from Callous Other #44 is more than a little unbelievable. These are both minor gripes however, and they have little bearing on the quality of the episode. 'Follow the Leader' sets the wheels in motion for next week's heart-stoppingly grandiose finale in deliciously fulfilling fashion. There's an abundance of points to ponder, some excellently written individual scenes and a whole barrel full of plot progression to boot. Let's hope that all the promise we see here is ultimately realised... and then some. 9.0
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
Your, you're. Who's, whose. There, their, they're. IT REALLY ISN'T FUCKING DIFFICULT. *explodes*
Being a greedy bugger, I've decided to start up another blog.
It's called Oh, for a Marker Pen...
This one has slightly more of a focus than the inane ramblings of Screenaged Kicks as it is dedicated to demonstrating punctuation misuse (or, indeed, under use), spelling errors and all sorts of other such grammatical failures. Basically, being the pedant that I am, I take a photograph whenever I come across an offending item and post it on the page for the whole world to see. Sad? Pah! Someone needs to set the world to rights. If I see one more idiot writing 'your' instead of 'you're', I swear I'm gonna knock someone's teeth out...
Um. Anyway. Oh, for a Marker Pen... is also an interactive experience. Send your photographic examples of errors from signs/leaflets/newspapers etc. to ohforamarkerpen@yahoo.co.uk and I'll post 'em. Shame the bastards. Go on. You know you want to.
It's called Oh, for a Marker Pen...
This one has slightly more of a focus than the inane ramblings of Screenaged Kicks as it is dedicated to demonstrating punctuation misuse (or, indeed, under use), spelling errors and all sorts of other such grammatical failures. Basically, being the pedant that I am, I take a photograph whenever I come across an offending item and post it on the page for the whole world to see. Sad? Pah! Someone needs to set the world to rights. If I see one more idiot writing 'your' instead of 'you're', I swear I'm gonna knock someone's teeth out...
Um. Anyway. Oh, for a Marker Pen... is also an interactive experience. Send your photographic examples of errors from signs/leaflets/newspapers etc. to ohforamarkerpen@yahoo.co.uk and I'll post 'em. Shame the bastards. Go on. You know you want to.
Review: Fringe #119 ('The Road Not Taken')
119: 'The Road Not Taken'
Teleplay: Jeff Pinkner & J.R. Orci
Story: Akiva Goldsman
Dr: Frederick E.O. Toye
Synopsis: Olivia begins seeing visions while awake that aren't really there. She uses these visions to help solve the case of a woman who spontaneously combusted. Meanwhile, Walter tries to prove that Bell isn't involved with the ZFT, while sightings of the Observer increase.
Review: A somewhat beguiling episode this, feeling more like a small piece of a very large and complex narratalogical puzzle. Oh sure, there's the rudimentary 'curiosity of the week' to contend with - here, it's the somewhat limited but rather cool looking concept of pyrokinesis - but it's mere window dressing, a little garnish to flavour the more mythology-based substance of the plot. This is certainly a refreshing turn up for the books: the tendency of most Fringe episodes is to relegate the season-spanning narrative to B or C-story status (if it's even featured at all), giving the tiniest of clues as to the general course of things but not really moving anything on. Not so here. 'The Road Not Taken' is veritably bursting at the seams with progression: wham! We resolve the issue of Walter's malfunctioning 'y' key on 'his' typewriter, confirming that he has nothing to do with the ZFT manuscript. Bam! Cortexefan comes back to haunt Olivia again as she starts 'slipping' between worlds, experiencing the consequences of decisions she didn't make. Sock! Nina Sharp gets herself in a tizz because sightings of the Observer are on the rise. Kersplat! Walter finds missing pages of the manuscript that potentially indicate William Bell's innocence... and then he's carted off by the Observer because 'it's time'. And, erm, thunk! Nina's shot by some masked dudes at episode's end. It's all addictively frustrating stuff, giving us narrative movement at the expense of concrete answers and guaranteeing that we'll return next week for the undoubtedly explosive finale. It's a shame that there are some missteps here, however: the revelation that Sanford Harris has been working for ZFT (well, we presume) all along is just too convenient a plot twist, an easy way of getting rid of a thoroughly irritating character. While I'm glad to see the back of him, seeing as he functioned as little more than a personified road-block for Olivia, and the plot, to circumnavigate, this could've been executed in a far more organic and believable manner. Then there's Peter's magic sound recreating device which, while certainly rather cool, just seems completely outside the realms of possibility in any way, shape or form. I'm starting to tire of the ridiculousness of the 'psuedo-science' in the show and all the technobabble that comes with it; can't we have a little more grounding in reality, please? I know that's not what the programme's essentially about but we were promised at least a semblance of believability. This just appears ridiculous. Oh and the Star Trek thing? Gratuitous, embarrassing and unnecessarily self-congratulatory when you consider a certain spoiler regarding next week's episode. It's a shame that these less desirable qualities mar an otherwise exciting episode. Given a little extra attention, this could've been a classic. 8.5
Teleplay: Jeff Pinkner & J.R. Orci
Story: Akiva Goldsman
Dr: Frederick E.O. Toye
Synopsis: Olivia begins seeing visions while awake that aren't really there. She uses these visions to help solve the case of a woman who spontaneously combusted. Meanwhile, Walter tries to prove that Bell isn't involved with the ZFT, while sightings of the Observer increase.
Review: A somewhat beguiling episode this, feeling more like a small piece of a very large and complex narratalogical puzzle. Oh sure, there's the rudimentary 'curiosity of the week' to contend with - here, it's the somewhat limited but rather cool looking concept of pyrokinesis - but it's mere window dressing, a little garnish to flavour the more mythology-based substance of the plot. This is certainly a refreshing turn up for the books: the tendency of most Fringe episodes is to relegate the season-spanning narrative to B or C-story status (if it's even featured at all), giving the tiniest of clues as to the general course of things but not really moving anything on. Not so here. 'The Road Not Taken' is veritably bursting at the seams with progression: wham! We resolve the issue of Walter's malfunctioning 'y' key on 'his' typewriter, confirming that he has nothing to do with the ZFT manuscript. Bam! Cortexefan comes back to haunt Olivia again as she starts 'slipping' between worlds, experiencing the consequences of decisions she didn't make. Sock! Nina Sharp gets herself in a tizz because sightings of the Observer are on the rise. Kersplat! Walter finds missing pages of the manuscript that potentially indicate William Bell's innocence... and then he's carted off by the Observer because 'it's time'. And, erm, thunk! Nina's shot by some masked dudes at episode's end. It's all addictively frustrating stuff, giving us narrative movement at the expense of concrete answers and guaranteeing that we'll return next week for the undoubtedly explosive finale. It's a shame that there are some missteps here, however: the revelation that Sanford Harris has been working for ZFT (well, we presume) all along is just too convenient a plot twist, an easy way of getting rid of a thoroughly irritating character. While I'm glad to see the back of him, seeing as he functioned as little more than a personified road-block for Olivia, and the plot, to circumnavigate, this could've been executed in a far more organic and believable manner. Then there's Peter's magic sound recreating device which, while certainly rather cool, just seems completely outside the realms of possibility in any way, shape or form. I'm starting to tire of the ridiculousness of the 'psuedo-science' in the show and all the technobabble that comes with it; can't we have a little more grounding in reality, please? I know that's not what the programme's essentially about but we were promised at least a semblance of believability. This just appears ridiculous. Oh and the Star Trek thing? Gratuitous, embarrassing and unnecessarily self-congratulatory when you consider a certain spoiler regarding next week's episode. It's a shame that these less desirable qualities mar an otherwise exciting episode. Given a little extra attention, this could've been a classic. 8.5
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