Television review: Lost #604: 'The Substitute'

604: 'The Substitute'

Wr: Elizabeth Sarnoff & Melinda Hsu Taylor

Dr: Tucker Gates

Synopsis: Locke goes in search of aid to further help his cause.

Review: It says something about the strength of a show’s central concept when, after six years and over a hundred episodes, it still manages to run rings around virtually the entire competition with every single episode. ‘The Substitute’, Lost’s latest offering, is yet another example of how to write hugely suspenseful drama while offering a wealth of believable and satisfying character development at the same time. Sarnoff and Taylor’s script is pitched at the perfect pace to keep us on the edge of our respective seats, maintaining the sort of forward momentum that shows like 24 can only have wet dreams about. And what’s more, it slots a few more pieces into the collective jigsaw too, providing obliquely disguised answers (or rather, suggested answers) to a number of questions that have lingered for years, as well as teasing us with a slue of typically baffling moments that beg for further attention.

Inevitably, the majority of the more intriguing and head-scratching moments occur on-Island, as Smoke Monster Locke begins ‘recuriting’, in Ilyana’s words. This notion is fascinating enough in itself: what exactly is he recruiting for? His end game appears to be to leave the Island, but how many people does he need in order to do so and what purpose will they serve? As we discover at episode’s end, he wins Sawyer round to his side, which is a perfectly logical development for his character and also forms a wonderfully infuritating cliffhanger, the kind that makes you claw at the television set hoping for more, but his means of doing so are invariably predicated on manipulation. Effectively, he’s praying on the guy while he’s weak, when he’s at his most downtrodden in the wake of Juliet’s demise. Josh Holloway and Terry O’Quinn are excellent here, proving to be very effective foils for one another and delivering some truly stellar performances. Their final scene together in the cave is particularly intriguing, turning the previously established binary opposition between Jacob and Smokie on its head and suggesting that perhaps Marc Pellengrino isn’t quite the saviour that we’ve come to believe. The suggestion that he frivolously orchestrated the Losties’ plight in order to find a replacement for himself as ‘Island guardian’, when actually there’s nothing to protect it against, puts a rather interesting spin on things. It certainly isn’t outside of the realms of possibility within the show’s framework and provides further proof that Lindelof and Cuse really are masters of their art. Even at this late stage in the game, they are able to manufacture enough ambiguity and intrigue to keep their audience yabbering around the watercoolers for eons. The ‘candidate’ concept slots nicely into the mythology, offering a solid explanation as to the presence of our favourite castaways on the Island, and also produces a wonderful visual with the revelation of Jacob’s ceiling scribbles. Significantly, the Oceanic Six (and Sawyer) are demarcated by those numbers, and Smokie’s hint that his compatriot ‘had a thing for numbers’ seems to hint at further significance, and perhaps an eventual explanation, for these wonderfully obtuse buggers. However, it’s probably more intriguing to freeze-frame the thing and puruse those names that are crossed out. It’s almost a given that there’ll be some interesting tidbits in there, in much the same vein as the Hatch Map in season two.

There are other beguiling mythology crumbs scattered across our path too. The scales at the entrance to the cave, despite being ‘an in-joke’, seem to recall the black and white stones found in the pockets of ‘Adam and Eve’ (you know, the dead bodies) waaay back in season one and symbolically suggest at least a superficial alignment with the conventional binary opposition of ‘good and evil’, although, inevitably, it will be nowhere near this simple. We are clearly supposed to infer this but knowing Lindelof and Cuse, they will take great relish, six or seven episodes down the line, in stomping all over our expectations. Smokie’s tet a tet with Richard is loaded with meaning too, although most of it is conveyed by expression. It’s an interesting twist to have Alpert so visibly terrified at the presence of the monster in Locke’s form, yet stand his ground so firmly. To take a character who has, up until this point, appeared all-knowing and powerful (he doesn’t age, for God’s sake!) and expose him as perhaps little more than Jacob’s lackey is a brave and fascinating move. And what about the notion that Smokie was once a man? What could have happened to transform him into a pillar of black smoke? Did the Island do this to him? Is that why he so desperately wants to leave it? Where does he want to go? Will something horrible happen to the Island if it is abandoned without a guardian or will it make no difference, as he seems to suggest? And just who is the boy that Sawyer can see but Richard can’t, telling fake-Locke that he ‘can’t kill him’ because ‘you know the rules’? And what does he mean by that? This is wonderfully oblique stuff, providing the viewer with significant food for thought while drip-feeding enough hints to reward perseverance.

Since this is a Locke-centric episode, O’Quinn is given a chance to shine and boy, does he. In Smokie, it’s quite remarkable that the actor is able to create someone so intrinsically yet, in paradoxical fashion, subtely different to his usual character. As Sawyer notes, it’s clear that this is not John Locke, but it’s sometimes difficult to pinpoint exactly how O’Quinn manages to achieve this. There are notable nods to the character, particularly in some of his dialogue (‘don’t tell me what I can’t do’ is a nice nod to seasons past) and this approach to those with whom he comes into contact (offering Richard water is a moment that springs immediately to mind). Regardless of the how, this is nevertheless a brilliant accomplishment, and it works well in juxtaposition with the self-doubting Locke of the episode’s flash sideways. It’s pleasing to see this element occupy the B-storyline position, thereby placing greater emphasis on the developments to the show’s mythology and avoiding the slight problem suffered by ‘What Kate Does’ of seeming a little futile at times. However, that doesn’t lessen its impact. There are some very interesting moments here, particularly the manner through which Locke comes into contact with fellow 815 passengers. Clearly, the show is illustrating that the lives of these individuals were destined to be intertwined regardless of the outcome of the flight, but thankfully, it is presented in such a way that it refrains from seeming hokum. Hurley’s inclusion in the narrative is completely logical, given that it was previously established that he owned the box company, while Rose and Ben’s appearances serve to make points about certain aspects of Locke’s character. Sarnoff and Taylor provide a nice mixture of the comedic and the emotional here, setting sequences such as the teaser in which John falls into the sprinklers in paradigmatic comparison with moments such as his unceremonious firing and, most importantly of all, Helen tearing up Shephard’s card. This is a wonderfully executed scene, really getting to the heart of Locke’s neuroses and providing a semblance of happiness and serendippity for a character who has suffered somewhat at the mercy of the writer’s pen over the years.

There are a few other points worthy of note too: the scene in which Sun, Ilyana, Ben and Lapidus bury Locke’s body is a brilliant slice of black humour, capped off by Ben’s confession. The cliff-face ladder descent is expertly harrowing, executed perfectly by the production crew to give the viewer vertigo just by watching a few seconds of it. There’s also a marvellous sequence within the first five minutes in which the camera takes the first person perspective of the smoke monster, which manages to add snippets to the established mythology by suggesting what it is that Smokie is doing when certain noises are made (eg the ‘tick-tick’ noises appear to be when he floats high over the ground etc.) It’s also exceedingly eerie, particularly as we are treated to a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it reflection in the window of one of the DHARMA houses. The only aspect of the episode that grates, really, is the inclusion of the ‘minor’ flashbacks within the standard narrative to demonstrate how Jacob entered the lives of his ‘candidates’ in the season five finale (and also the incorporation of shots of his death). These seem rather superfluous for a show that has as devoted and solid an audience as Lost. The show doesn’t really attract casual viewers and as such, virtually everyone watching will be aware of what is being referred to. It just seems a little unnecessary and doesn’t really treat the audience with the level of intelligence that the show so traditionally has. Still, this is a minor quibble and doesn’t have a great impact on the overall quality of the episode.

‘The Substitute’ is an expertly written episode that provides enough dramatic development, suspense and intrigue to thoroughly immerse the viewer in the experience and leave you desperate for more once the final, fantastic cliffhanger rolls around. There are also some lovely character moments on offer, particularly in Locke’s flash sideways, as well as a tonne of questions to pass the time in the office on Monday morning. Once again, Lost maintains its reputation as just about the best damn thing on television. What are we going to do when it’s all over? 9.4

Television review: 24 #808: '11pm - 12am'

808: '11.00pm - 12.00am'

Wr: David Fury
Dr: Milan Cheylov

Synopsis: Jack tries to convince Sergei that he is willing to broker a deal with him in exchange for the Uranium rods. Dana is being blackmailed by Kevin Wade and his partner for services to rip off more jobs. Hastings has Chloe get a statement from Renee, then have her get a psychological evaluation.

Review: It seems almost redundant to say it at this point but 24 really isn't what it used to be. Somewhere down the line, probably around two or three years ago, the writing staff decided to take their feet off the accelerator, prop them up on the dashboard and rest comfortably on their laurels, setting the narrative to auto-pilot while they whipped out their cuban cigars and had a cosy tet a tet. Fortunately for the poor, discerning public, the writers' strike happened, swiftly kicking the lot of them up their respective backsides and prompting an upsurge in creativity. Sadly, however, now that things have quietened down and the production crew have been able to relax their troubled selves a little, the momentum has waned once again . The writing process has transformed from determining how change can be made to ticking a series of perceptibly mandatory boxes, ensuring that every episode is little more than a series of well-worn narrative tropes strung together by the most depressingly bog-standard of stories. Jack demonstrates superhuman-like powers when attempting to escape from the bad guys? Check. There's a mole in CTU? Double check. No one believes Bauer, Chloe and just everybody else that's saved the world twenty times over in the last ten years when they claim that they're misinterpreting information? So checked, you could probably buy it in Topman. These concepts may have captivated and enthralled when they were first trundled out in 2001 (yes, it's been that long) but by now, it certainly isn't too much to ask that they're firmly put to bed.

Instead, of course, they're paraded in front of our eyes as if they're the most innovatively creative ideas this side of a Charlie Kauffman movie. Oh my God, Sergei's asked for immunity? Well I never! Would you Adam and Eve it? I just can't begin to get my brain around such a complex and radical concept! You would think, by now, that the poor guys at CTU would, at the very least, roll their eyes and exhale in frustration, if not have regulations in place that prevent the implementation of such deals. How many times have reprehensible criminals managed to escape the claws of the American justice system because they're able to broker a deal that sets them up with 'a very big house in the country'? "Oh yes Mr. Bauer, I know a great deal about generic terrorist threat x because, obviously, it doesn't stop with me, oh no, there's a greater conspiracy afoot, so if you spare me from being strung up by my pinky toes and sodomised for eternity, I'll divulge everything." And lo, in order to move the plot forward, the villain gets his wish, spills the beans and no one ever pays. It's far, far too easy a fix for the narrative and it's one that the writers resort to over and over and over and over, like a bloody monkey with a minature cymbal. Is it so difficult to find new ways of moving things forward? To come up with something a little less frustrating? Oh wait, this is 24. It has a formula to stick to, a recipe to concoct. To deviate would be sacrilege; there was no way Jack could escape the clutches of Faceless Torturer #746 (whose 'fun with electricity' was a little too reminiscent of the antics Bauer was subjected to in the later stages of season two) without introducing the most over-the-top and patently ludicrous developments known to man, was there? Clearly, the knife to the throat in '10pm - 11pm' wasn't enough for the production crew. David Fury plays a game of oneupmanship here and has Jack crawling along a pipe, which just so happens to be leaking, by the way, and then knocking the bad guy unconscious by wrapping his legs around him. Uh huh. Frankly, it looks ridiculous. For all it may paint Bauer as a 'bad-ass' (or some other such psuedo-masculine rubbish), it's so unbelievable that it's impossible to invest in it. And just to compound the problem, Fury also injures the man here, having him shot in the arm and also wounding his foot but no, it's okay, he won't need to go to hospital, just have it wrapped up a little. He'll be up and about in, oh, ninety seconds, acting like nothing ever happened... just like last week, when Renee brutally stabbed him in the stomach! Are we really supposed to accept this crap? Really?

Well, given that this is the show that just will not let up with the inclusion of utterly pointless, extraneous narrative strands, yeah, I guess we are. So the Kevin and Dana saga continues for the umpteenth week in a row, sucking the life and soul out of the plot and insulting the audience's intelligence about twenty times over in the process. There are so many objectionable elements to this story that you wonder exactly how the writers can rationalise it during the creative process and expect that any sane individual would ever derive enjoyment from it. About three or four episodes ago, it became depressingly evident that Kevin would never leave Dana alone, despite his claims that he would 'be through' with her once she completed her task, and that subsequently, we wouldn't be treated to the quick resolution that we so desperately want. Honestly, it's tempting to take a sledgehammer to the screen to stop this wanton waste of time from going on any longer. But still you watch, sucked in by the misguidedly optimistic notion that things can only get better, only to find that no, they really, really don't.

Kevin's already atrocious dialogue actually manages to get worse now that's drunk off his tits (and how exactly did that happen in, like, twenty minutes, huh? Has he been necking straight vodka?) Arlo gets even more irritating now that he's given an increased amount of screentime, poking his nose into what he believes are extra-marital activities and being eye-gougingly smarmy, Dana almost, but not quite, tells Cole everything but, naturally, someone interrupts just at the crucial moment and curses, she's not able to take this storyline in the only direction that might demonstrate any semblance of potential! Instead, from a conversation in which Ortiz basically tells her that he'll love her no matter what (not actually realising what that entails, in his future bride's case), she decides to take matters into her own hands, stalk Kevin by having a drink in a nightclub (um, WTF?) and brandish a gun about, presumably because she intends to put a bullet in his brain. Yes, because that won't get her into any more trouble, right? What better way to fix the fact that you've committed a heinous crime than to commit an even more heinous one? Agh! What part of any of this is even remotely entertaining? Evidently, it's supposed to create some form of suspense but it's all so sodding artificial that it's just plain boring. Oh, and how many times is this woman going to pop out of CTU for some pathetically transparent reason before Hastings catches a clue? Before people stop simply stroking their chins and realise that actually, employees can't just walk out without asking their superiors first? This entire narrative is absolutely, unequivocably abysmal and really impacts on the quality of the episode as a whole, removing any semblance of suspense from the story for very significant periods of time.

Unfortunately, at certain points, the remaining plot strands have the same result. The final five minutes of the hour are evidently supposed to be a veritable smogasbord of dramatic tension as the retrieval of the nuclear Rod Stewarts nears what we are supposed to believe is its conclusion. Except that there isn't a single viewer in the land who would buy that for one second. We're eight episodes into the season; to allow CTU to achieve their objective at this point would require a complete 180 degree turn in the narrative, wherein the emphasis would shift entirely. Yes, perhaps this would be a possibility if we were fifteen or sixteen hours in, but this early? No way. It is depressingly obvious that an obstacle will arise and furthermore, that said obstacle will be the intervention of the supposedly dutiful son. Given recent developments, wherein David Anders hasn't exactly been the happiest of chappies now that his brother has snuffed it at the hands of Daddy dearest, the trajectory of the narrative is hopelessly telegraphed. Consequently, this takes the wind out of the sails during the final stretch, robbing the ramp up to the cliffhanger of its desired dramatic effect. With the outcome as such a foregone conclusion, it really is hard to care about what's going on. Certain underwhelming acting choices don't help matters either. Hassan's daughter is resolutely unconvincing, delivering each line like she can't get her mouth around the words. Her story plays out exactly as predicted in weeks past, too: Hassan objects to her relationship with the required amount of knee-jerk callousness to make him feel really bad when she ultimately wanders blindly into danger in the coming weeks (yes, it will happen). And while Hastings actually gets some decent dialogue for once, the actor just can't make any of it convincing. His cadence is all wrong and, for whatever reason, he continues to walk around his offices like he's the freaking Hunchback of Notre Dame. Wassupwitdat? Oh, if only we had Annie Werschung to save us... but sadly, Renee's being debriefed and looked down upon at CTU so she's depressingly underused. Sigh.

There are a few positives to be found, however. This being a David Fury script, it's the little details that are the most pleasing - Ortiz adjusting the scared agent's gear, the inclusion of a nightclub, which is something we've never seen in eight years of 24 (or at least rarely: just hedging my bets there), Sergei cooking while plotting the sale of nuclear materials, Jack cutting his foot as he succeeds in his escape and so on. These minor doses of realism are most welcome as they enable us to buy into the story. There are even some priceless moments of black humour too, most notably as Bauer announces to Sergei that he's on the line with the President of the United States, prompting one of the finest and most perturbed looks in the show's history, and also as the dastardly Russian breaks down in front of Jack, confessing that he murdered his own son and our hero clearly has no idea what to do or say. In general, these two seem to play well off each other and now that Kensei has betrayed him, it looks like we might get to see a little more interaction between them in the weeks to come. And it's worth noting that the sequences in which Bauer and the Russians creep through the darkened house looking for one another are superbly executed, with Cheylov utilising a combination of slow shots, muted chiaroscuro and Sean Callery's pitch perfect underscore to create a truly tense atmosphere.

Sadly, however, these less objectionable elements are insufficient to salvage the episode. Fury's script places far too great an emphasis on unnecessarily extraneous plot developments, concentrating heavily on the car crash of a narrative that is Kevin and Dana Do D.C., which promptly sucks the life and soul out of the show. Just to make matters worse, generally, the remaining strands are lazily written, proving depressingly predictable and relying to a great extent on tropes and paradigms that became cliches, within the show's framework at any rate, years ago. It really is difficult to drum up any interest in the vast majority of what we're given here and as a result, watching 24 is becoming far more of a chore than a joy. Wake up guys, your show's sinking. Get your feet back on the accelerator before it's too late. 4.0

Television review: Lost #603: 'What Kate Does'

603: 'What Kate Does'

Wr: Edward Kitsis & Adam Horowitz
Dr: Paul A. Edwards

Synopsis: Kate finds herself on the run, while Jack is tasked with something that could put a friend's life at risk.

Review: So Lost, pray tell us, what does Kate do, exactly? Well, according to this fine instalment of the world's greatest televisual experience, young Ms Austen hijacks taxis, runs roughshod over the luggage of poor struggling doctors (Artz is back, ladies and gentlemen! You've been pining for him for years, haven't you?!), steals the handbags of pregnant youngsters and subsequently feels horribly guilty about it all. Well, maybe that's a bit of a stretch. She feels guilty about anything to do with the koochie-coo, cute-as-buttons wickle baby thing growing inside Emilie De Ravan. Couldn't care less about the other havoc she's wreaked. But of course, this is off-Island, flash-sideways Kate. The Kate for whom flight 815 did come hurtling down into the ocean is a little more empathetic, finding herself caring for the well-being of an understandably distraught Sawyer, while also desperate to find the aforementioned Claire in order to reunite her with Aaron.

It's an interesting dichotomy this and one that looks likely to set the trend for the remainder of the season. As predicted, Horowitz and Kitsis continue with the structure established in 'LA X (parts one and two)', juxtaposing a timeline in which 815 didn't crash with one in which Jack and his fellow Losties were unsuccessful in their attempts to change history. Few hints are given as to how these two will ultimately reconcile, preferring instead to present the duality as is and allow the viewer to draw his or her own conclusions. However, as a result, it allows us to acquire some intriguing insights into the show's central characters, to contrast their personalities and neuroses in differing sets of circumstances, drawing parallels and establishing how their problems are resolved, if it all. It's somewhat fitting that Kate's penchant to run grinds to a halt as a result of realising exactly what she was stealing from Claire; in the show's chronological timeline, it is effectively the protection of baby Aaron that allows her to finally settle. There are some well-played scenes between Lilly and Ravan, particularly in the hospital, as apprehension gives way to affection and genuine emotion shines through from both parties. The story does occasionally feel a little capricious, as its teleology becomes rather predictable from the moment that the pregnancy is revealed, and the fact that Claire's water breaks just as the prospective recipient of her child turns her back on her is more than a little convenient. Still, on the whole, this is an enjoyable retread through the damaged psyches of both characters (Kate and Claire), which reminds us of just how far they've both come.

The on-Island narrative is even better. Again, there are certain less desirable elements - Kate's sudden re-interest in Claire's well-being feels a little too well timed in terms of the narrative's inherent motifs, especially given that Sawyer's having an emotional breakdown right in front of her eyes, and those Others that transport she and Jin could do with a little more subtlety in their portrayals - but overall, Kate's storyline here is solid. Her concern for James is touching and the sequence in which he breaks down in front of her at the pier is heartwrenching. Lilly is excellent, but Holloway is astounding, never veering too far towards mawkish and selling every last ounce of emotion with the gravitas and crushing weight that it deserves. As per, Lost is stupendous at representing consequence. There are no quick fixes here; Sawyer does not cry for a bit and then forget about Juliet completely. The trauma is built into the narratives and it works wonders. Hopefully, this will continue in the weeks to come.

Putting aside Kate's story, there is a nice B-strand involving Jack and Sayid to address too. For the umpteenth time, the writers give little away, still refusing to explain exactly how our favourite torturer is in this condition, but what they do reveal proves somewhat fascinating. Sayid has been 'claimed', you say? Would that, perchance, be by Smokie? The guy 'dressed' as Locke? It certainly seems like the Natives aren't particularly fond of the guy, especially after hearing the news of Jacob's departure last week, and the concept is one that has arisen within the arc plot before: remember Rousseau's men? They were exposed to the monster/elements within the Temple and subsequently turned batshit crazy. It would therefore make logical sense that this is what these Others are referring to. Of course, whether or not Sayid is ill is another matter entirely, and one that certainly harbours much promise for forthcoming episodes.

While 'What Kate Does' does not scale the lofty heights of 'LA X', it is certainly an enjoyable, well-written episode. Kate's on and off-Island narratives work well in conjunction with one another, providing a neat assessment of the psychological ennui that torment the character, and Evangeline Lilly rises to the challenge, almost but not quite matching Josh Holloway in their beautiful scene at the dock. It's a bit of a shame that the episode relegates the mythology to C-storyline status and it perhaps could've done with an injection of Locke and Ben, but generally, this is another strong slice of television from a production crew at the very top of their game. 8.2

Television reviews: 24 #806 ('9pm - 10pm'), #807 ('10pm - 11pm')

806: '9pm - 10pm'

Wr: Manny Coto & Brannon Braga
Dr: Brad Turner

Synopsis: President Hassan's moves to quash any dissenters in his country starts to draw concern with President Taylor and other members of the United Nations. Kevin Wade starts to push Dana to the breaking point, forcing her to help him get into an NYPD evidence lock-up for a huge score. Josef has had success in treating his radiation-poisoned brother Oleg, but the treatment is cut short by their father, who is furious. Renee gets the plan back on track to acquire the uranium, but not without a demand by Vladimir, who also, without Renee's knowledge, has plans for the buyer, Jack.

Review: Perhaps unsurprisingly, Jack and Renee's undercover soiree continues to be the best thing about 24, with both Sutherland and Werschung acting their little socks off to create something truly captivating. For whatever reason, as soon as the writing staff turn their attention to these characters, they automatically become about ten times better at scripting dialogue (or maybe it's just that the actors are so talented that they can disguise the hokum nature of what they're given). The dynamic between these two, the desperate determination of Jack and the resigned melancholia of Renee, is mesmerising and creates a far greater level of suspense than most of the show's extraneous dramatic events. It helps that they have an excellent foil in Battlestar Galactica's 2 (or Leoben), who plays the duplicitous Vladimir. His quietly methodical portrayal makes for something truly sinister.

It is a slight pity that the writers play the 'madcap' card so early in the day; it would've been nice to see a more tempered progression towards the sort of ruthless masochism and misogyny that is depicted here. Did he really need to threaten Renee so soon after being reunited with her? Was it necessary for him to lapse immediately back to his aggressive ways? Some build would have been nice, as this suddenness gives the story a slightly artificial after taste. Plus, the two make the beast with two backs in the space of about five minutes. We cut to commercial and... bang! That's it. All over. While it's tempting to suggest that this says rather a lot about Vladimir, it's likelier that it as such for convenience's sake. Still, for the most part, this is all very good stuff, and it only improves when Jack shows up dressed like Great Uncle Hans, complete with ludicrous glasses, and starts speaking in plain English with an American accent. If they'd gone the 'cod German' route, this would have fallen flat on its face. Thankfully, we are spared Sutherland's attempts to pronounce his 'w's as 'v's and consequently, we are able to invest in the dramatic tension of the narrative without any niggling distractions.

Elsewhere, President Hassan's predicament proves to be somewhat interesting as the writers continue to layer his character. His knee jerk reaction to the assassination attempt counters our previous impressions but helps to give a more rounded and believable political viewpoint. This works in conjunction with the problems facing Taylor to manufacture some intriguing political manoeuvring, and the inclusion of the European representatives only magnifies this, lifting the urgency and significance of the plot by incorporating a macrocosmic element. Kensei's attempts to save his desperately ill brother are also rather entertaining, even if the boy's murder at episode's end is completely predicable. The only truly problematic storyline belongs to poor old Katee Sackhoff, who must, by now, be thoroughly sick to the back teeth of the pointlessness of what she's been given. No longer is this a passable deviation with some nice acting (well, from Sackhoff anyway). Now it just irritates. The story completely obliterates the narrative's forward momentum and is made even worse by the fact that it's woefully obvious that Agent Ortiz is just going to find everything out and 'bury' (or some such euphemism) Evil Kevin. Couple that with Arlo's frustratingly smarmy attitude to the whole thing and the terrible, terrible combination of 'please, won't you stare at my ass as I walk past?' with AN ACTUAL SHOT OF CHLOE'S ASS and you've got a cringeworthy load of gumf that the show would be infinitely better without.

Generally, '9pm - 10pm' is a fairly solid episode with some interesting plot developments, a number of excellently written and executed scenes (usually involving Sutherland and Werschung) and a great deal of forward momentum. It's just a shame that a horribly redundant storyline and a handful of minor niggles prevent it from being truly great. 7.8

807: '10pm - 11pm'

Wr: Chip Johannessen & Patrick Harbinson
Dr: Milan Cheylov

Synopsis: Jack tries to pull Renee out of the undercover operation with Vladimir, but Renee tries to reassure him that she can get the operation done. President Taylor tries to get answers from President Hassan, who continues his personal war against his opponents including certain members of his own staff. Dana Walsh has to guide ex-boyfriend and former partner-in-crime, Kevin, to a $100,000 score in a police warehouse. Arlo tries to call Chloe's attention to the situation.

Review: Traditionally, 24's '10pm - 11pm' slot is reserved for the kind of suckerpunch-packing episodes that floor you with their intensity, provide the perfect marriage of character drama and edge-of-your-seat plot development and contain the kind of jaw-dropping twists that'll have you reeling in disbelief for weeks on end. In season one, we discovered that ever-reliable Nina Myers was actually a mole. In year two, George Mason sacrificed himself to save millions as a nuclear bomb exploded in the Mojave desert. Year three, Salazar's attempts to secure a deal for the bioweapon were thwarted. And then, in subsequent years, we've had Airforce One crash landing, President Logan revealed as being a duplicitous, conniving SOB, orchestrating a terrorist threat within his own country and so forth. The legacy is a decidedly lofty one that sadly, it takes all of about ten minutes for Chip Johnannessen and Patrick Harbinson to utterly and completely annihilate.

To be fair, the primary reason for the success of previous '10-11pm's is their positioning within the season: usually, they come just after the mid-point, just as the show is about to turn the cogs of the narrative, and channel the plot in a new direction. Here, we're only seven shows into the season so perhaps it's inevitable that it doesn't contain quite the same level of unrelenting surprise and suspense as some of its predecessors. But still, that's no excuse for the laziness on display here. Undoubtedly the worst offender is the extraneous Dana/Kevin storyline, which continues to go absolutely nowhere of any interest. While it's still highly likely that Agent Ortiz will put an end to the man as soon as he cottons on to his missus's dodgy past, that moment shows no signs of appearing any time soon. Instead, we get to see how Kevin's robbery plays out in excruciatingly protracted detail. Far, far too much time is spent on this story, with the writers even injecting moments of realism to pad everything out... so the hapless criminals get the wrong case number because they mishear Dana, they engage in ludicrous water pistol fights, and so on. While such things are inherently welcome in 24, since the show purports to be representative of real time and could do with a bit more verisimilitude now and again, they only serve to irritate here because the last thing any of us want is to waste any more precious minutes on this God awful, pointless display of procrastination.

To make matters worse, on CTU's end, no one bats an eyelid at the fact that Dana keeps sneaking off, without any semblance of stealth whatsoever, to a dodgy back room, all the while conversing on her mobile (WHY IS THIS ALLOWED??!!) at a perfectly audible level so that everyone can hear her. Oh sure, Arlo thinks she's having an affair and Chloe at least acknowledges that something's up, but given the serious implications that such behaviour has had throughout the agency's history, you'd think someone would consider this a red flag. From a storytelling perspective, it's so tired it's untrue. Every single beat has been utilised countless times before, and consequently, it's a struggle to feel any sense of engagement with the narrative. It's as if the writing staff get together at the start of a season with a checklist of 'required elements' and simply construct their plot as a result. How about not, eh guys? How about throwing the rule book out of the window and starting afresh? Daring to do something more? Sometimes, what's comfortable isn't necessarily what's best.

Frustratingly, at times, it seems like Johnannessen and Harbinson know this. As with the past three episodes, Jack and Renee's undercover operation is undoubtedly the highlight of the hour. The reason? It dares to take the narrative in unexpected, and previously unexplored, directions. We've never really seen this kind of concentration on a regular character's emotional stability in the show before (with the possible exception of President Logan in season five). In a way, it contravenes the fundamental laws of 24 in that it doesn't propel the plot forward in itself. It's effectively a pause, a diversion, but thankfully, because it's so wonderfully written and such care is taken with the character represented, it works beautifully. It certainly helps that Annie Werschung is spectacular in every scene: even when she's basically demanding that Vladimir call people back, there's so much sincerity and so many layers to her performance that you feel like you could watch an entire episode of this and not tire of it.

Sadly though, even this previously untouchable strength is qualified in this episode by the incorporation of one of the most patently unbelievable moments in 24 history. Fine, so Renee lashes out at Vladimir when he becomes aggressive with her. I can even accept her brutal murder of the guy, repeatedly stabbing him in a sort of Psycho-induced rage, screaming "die! Die!" at him like some sort of possessed lunatic. She's disturbed, after all. What I struggle to forgive, however, is that after she stabs Jack in the chest, he manages to remove the blade and throw it directly into the jugular of an oncoming enemy Come on guys! Yeah, it looks cool and my God, it makes Jack seem so badass, but you've got to draw the line somewhere or else Bauer just turns into freaking Superman. Jack is supposed to be a hero we can believe in and aspire to, not one that's so far removed from reality that he's unattainable. He's even up and about within seconds too, without exhibiting any signs of pain whatsoever. This just detracts from the believability of the narrative and demarcates 24 as a television show while you're watching, rather than forty five minutes of dramatic escapism.

Similar problems dog the other narrative strands. Hassan's knee jerk reactions to his attempted assassination are now becoming tiresome, especially since he is basically suspicious of everyone in his inner circle and it's patently obvious to every member of the viewing audience that he shouldn't be. It's a bit of an eye-roller that his head of staff (or whomever he is) just so happens to be involved with his daughter too. We couldn't just be satisfied with the conflict produced by the inherent nature of the plot, oh no. Let's throw familial involvement in there too and make things nice and messy! And predictable, hopelessly predictable. She's going to protest to daddy when she finds out what's going on, he'll dismiss her, something bad will happen and he'll repent. Guaranteed. The other Presidential storyline is fairly ineffectual too: after showing promise by proposing the inclusion of a conference of delegates in the last episode, we start this one and it's all over! In fifteen minutes! They've all agreed to everything in fifteen minutes! That strike anyone as absolutely ridiculous? To make matters worse, Cherry Jones then blabs confidential information to the British Prime Minister in direct earshot of every other bleeding delegate! Take the guy into a separate room, for God's sake! Whisper! Anything! This is just poorly thought out but the episode suffers further for it. The only other strand worthy of note is the prospect that the 'dead son' will get a nice, undignified funeral, but for all this is nicely written, it's hardly enough to counter the disappointing nature of much of the rest of the plot.

Sadly for Johannessen and Haribson, their attempt at a '10pm - 11pm' certainly doesn't live up to the legacy established in years past. This is a resolutely underwhelming episode, focusing far too much on pointless extraneous incident to seem worthwhile and even botching up those elements that play to the show's strengths. There are moments of brilliance and a number of strong scenes but unfortunately, they're subsumed by the laziness of much of the writing. At times, it really is difficult to care about any of what's going on and when you're praying for another snippet of Renee and Jack to come around so you can forget about everything else, you know there's something seriously wrong. A considerable backwards step; let's hope it's just a blip and not the beginning of a trend. 5.3

Television review: Fringe #214: 'Jacksonville'

214: 'Jacksonville'

Wr: Zack Stentz & Ashley Edward Miller
Dr: Charles Beeson

Synopsis: When the sole survivor of a building demolished by an earthquake in downtown Manhattan proves to be from the other Earth, Walter leads the team to Jacksonville, the source of a related experiment that he and William conducted years ago. Now only Olivia and the secrets of her past can prevent another catastrophe.

Review: The trouble with sliding comfortably into an episodic pattern is that you set up a series of expectations that, if not met, will have an overtly negative impact on the viewer's reception. Fringe has been running for so long on the 'three stand alones, one big mythology hour before break' formula that it's somewhat redundant to even state the fact. Unsurprisingly, after three episodes with very little bearing on the arc plot, along comes a story, titled 'Jacksonville' no less, that promises to ramp up the progression, just before, shock of shocks, a hiatus! Well, I never. The problem here, however, is that it struggles to deliver against the expectations that we justifiably have for it. This certainly isn't a bad episode of Fringe by any means, but by focusing all of the arc plot movement into a single hour, the writers shoot themselves in their respective feet. If they'd maintained a steady momentum, tied the stand alones into the mythology to a greater extent, and steadily revealed certain elements, what we get here wouldn't feel quite so underwhelming.

To begin, how many times must we see Olivia strapped to a chair, forced to enter a 'dream like' state? This is a thorn in Fringe's side, the sort of half-baked deux et machina that allows the writers to get themselves out of sticky situations. It robs the episode of its dramatic momentum; for all the scenes are executed well, making good use of chiaroscuro and soundtrack to manufacture something truly eerie, the teleology feels weak. The drive to prevent another cross-dimensional incident is subsumed by the inner workings of Dunham's conscience and this sadly doesn't have the suspenseful pull to captivate. Unfortunately, it's somewhat contrived too. Once again, we're treated to some cod-psychoanalytic mumbo jumbo about Olivia's emotions affecting her abilities: she needs to get scared, to revert to a child-like state in order to see the glimmer. And unsurprisingly, before hour's end, she's miraculously able to do so, despite years of blocking out such feelings and maturing into adulthood. It's just so darn predictable: why do we need to resolve the enigma, to restore the equilibrium before the episode ends? Would it hurt to present a more human side to the character for once and have her fail? At least that way, there would be some genuine tension and, get this, significance to the threat. A quick fix isn't always the best solution.

The fix itself is rather questionable too. In order to find her scaredycatness again, Olivia needs the possibility of a smooch with a close male colleague... there's a shred of sexism in there, if you can find it. This whole strand feels unnecessarily fluffy and pointless and sadly, reads like a transparent attempt to manufacture further conflict. Lo and behold, Olivia and Peter begin to see each other in 'a new light' just as Dunham is able to see glimmers around those who don't belong, thereby revealing Walter's secret and setting the narrative on the inevitable trajectory of Olivia feels guilty, doesn't tell Peter, it weighs down on their potential relationship just as things start to get serious, Peter somehow finds out, feels betrayed, they 'split up' and the season ends with young Bishop waltzing off to the alternate universe to 'find himself' or some such contrite nonsense. Actually, that's not a bad guess for the cliffhanger: Peter scarpers, closes the 'gate' behind him, Walter and Olivia are left alone. If I was a betting man...

There is a great deal of potential in 'Jacksonville' and some of it is realised well. The basic crux of the story is inherently intriguing, with a stellar teaser sequence that is stunningly executed, creating some truly horrifying, but memorable, visuals. The methodical pacing of the Jacksonville scenes work wonders, with reflective piano music and slow shots that linger on the minutiae working in conjunction to create a potent sense of wonder and displacement, as well as a notably eerie undercurrent. It's just a shame that these strengths don't filter through to the other aspects of the narrative. The writers channel their energies into over-utilised plot tropes rather than unique, engaging drama. Olivia's dream trips are becoming tiresome, the overall story lacks oomph and the realisation of the connection between Peter and Dunham is just a convenient plot manoeuvre rather than a logical development. We've come to expect rather more of Fringe and justifiably so; let's hope the remainder of the season delivers. 6.8

Television review: Desperate Housewives #614: 'The Glamorous Life'

614: 'The Glamorous Life'

Wr: Dave Flebotte
Dr: Bethany Rooney

Synopsis: Gabrielle and Carlos grow concerned with the direction Ana and Danny's relationship might be taking. In the meantime, Susan befriends a stripper named Robin (guest star Julie Benz) and takes her under her wing, whereas Tom and Lynette come to a disagreement regarding their new therapist (guest star Jane Leeves). Bree watches over Orson as she fears he may commit suicide, and Angie tries to get a neighbor to sort out her garbage, much to Nick's dismay.

Review: At last! All my dreams have come true in just sixty short seconds of plot! Danny Bolen... with no shirt on! Rejoice, for this is a truly joyous occasion! Except, actually, it's not. In order to get the boy to this point, the writers have him cavort on top of SHE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED for a good few minutes which, quite frankly, I just don't need to see. Or imagine, as the case may be. Still, points for trying, Housewives, points for trying. And that, my friends, is a neat summary of the remainder of the episode. 'The Glamorous Life' doesn't always succeed but at the very least, its heart is in the right place. For the most part, it's trying to do something different and interesting, and not simply fall back into the comfortable pattern of regurgitated storytelling that typically plagues the show.

Take Lynette and Tom's narrative as an example. Their marriage guidance counselling proves somewhat entertaining for the most part. Their respective interactions are very believable and raise some crucial points about their personalities, and the subsequent pay-off is a well written two-hander in which some uncomfortable truths are revealed. Great. The problem, sadly, is Daphne from Frasier. Quite apart from that hideous mispronunciation of Antony and Cleopatra, there's enough annoyance here to fil your average Jimmy Carr stand up show. The idea that she is so hopelessly blinkered to believe that forgetting lines and having a crown fall unceremoniously off your head mid-speech actually constitutes good acting is just plain absurd. Any psychologist worth their salt would have the appropriate level of self-awareness to appreciate this fact, never mind the fastidiousness to be able to take even the harshest criticism. But not Daphne! Oh no, in the name of the 'comedic' (read 'banal'), she effectively throws the pair out of her office and tries desperately to hide her insecurities. It's another case of oneupmanship on the part of the central cast and consequently, the whole story just irritates.

Elsewhere, Susan takes on a stripper with a penchant for literature. Yes ladies and gentlemen, it's Julie Benz, Buffy and Angel's favourite centuries-old bloodsucker. And while her Housewives character might not have the flair and panache that Darla exuded from every pore, at least she doesn't turn out to have some sort of hidden, manipulative agenda. You know, like that druggie that Carlos and Gaby set up home with or the mother of the child that Gaby was going to adopt. It's actually quite a sweet storyline for the most part, demonstrating some much-needed kindheartedness but sadly, this being Housewives, the writers go and ruin it by turning MJ into a teenage horndog when he's all of seven or eight years old. "You can give me a bath anytime you want?" Sorry, what? Is this supposed to be funny? It's actually borderline disturbing, guys. Quit it. Meanwhile, Gabrielle gets hot and bothered at the very idea of Ana having sex with Danny which, coming from Miss Debaucho Supermodel, seems ludicrously out of character. If anything, Gaby would be giving the girl the protection talk that it takes Angie, of all people, to provide. On the subject of the escaped convict, we are treated to a few more details about her past as we find out that she was... an eco-terrorist! Probably. Yay. Ms Bolen gets all worked up about some recycling and, get this, actually kicks over some bins. Truly terrifying stuff. Still, at least someone actually catches a clue about the fact that there's more to the Bolens than meets the eye. Perhaps now the plot will actually go somewhere. Maybe Angie will declare war on carbon dioxide or something.

While these storylines all attempt to do something new but only partially succeed, Bree and Orson's manages to stay convincing throughout. For all the time and place of Orson's attempted suicide is painfully obvious (and come on, would you really leave him right next to some water when he's told you he wants to die?!), Marcia Cross and Kyle MacLachlan do such a stellar job with the dialogue they're given that these points hardly seem to matter. The closing moments, when Bree saves him and they reconcile with honesty and sincerity, contain some of the best writing Housewives has seen in a while and help to remind the viewer that yes, this was once a show worth investing time in. Hopefully, there are only bigger and better things to come in the latter half of the season. It is just a shame that the writing staff seem incapable of imbuing all of their narratives with this level of quality. To be fair to 'The Glamorous Life', it is evident that an effort is being made to crawl out of the hole that the programme has dug for itself in the last season or so. It's just going to take a lot of perseverance and hard work before it can truly see the light of day again. 6.8

Television reviews: Heroes #417 'The Art of Deception', #418 'The Wall' and #419 'Brave New World'

417: 'The Art of Deception'

Wr: Mark Verheiden & Misha Green
Dr: SJ Carlson

Synopsis: The new and different Sylar pays Matt a visit, while Peter tries to warn Emma that Samuel isn't what he seems. Meanwhile, Noah begins his plan to infiltrate the carnival and capture Samuel.

Review: 'The Art of Deception' benefits greatly from its distinct concentration on the Carnival storyline. Finally, the writers offer some substantial progression and hint towards our final destination as the season draws to a close. The sequences involving Claire, Samuel and HRG are all very well executed, exhibiting just the right level of tension to keep everyone on the edge of their seat. The scenes are well structured too, with the decision to counterpoint father and daughter proving decidedly interesting. It's certainly refreshing to see Claire taking charge and actually doing something with the information she's been given; it's never exactly clear how all of this will play out, and the level of uncertainty ensures that intrigue levels remain high. Furthermore, Lydia's death comes as a genuine surprise, the first that Heroes has really managed in one hell of a long time. Thankfully, we don't spend an entire episode learning about her past just so that we can 'care' when she's murdered. Instead, she becomes an unfortunate victim of circumstance which, frankly, is far more believable. This all feels like the right pay-off for her character and it works well to cement Samuel's new-found sinisterness. Robert Knepper is clearly having the time of his life with his duplicitous role here, relishing every twist and turn in the dialogue and out-performing just about everyone in his goodbye scene with Tattoo Girl. Of course, it is rather questionable whether the whole Carnival would rather believe the mass-murdering lunatic who'd just laid waste to an entire town than the sane college co-ed, but what the hell, we get some nice gore to help us forget about these pesky details.

Elsewhere, Emma's storyline continues to intrigue. This really is a great place to go with the character, and the question mark that now hangs over her allegiances and future role gives the story an extra shot of pizazz. The Matt/Sylar narrative is at least remotely interesting too, Grunberg and Quinto reminding us all of why they were the reason that we all tuned in during the early days of season four. It's a shame that Matt's bold moves seem a little sudden and extreme, even for this poor tortured soul. And what's more, any metaphorical closure or development that may have been granted to Sylar is rendered moot by Peter showing up ten minutes later to reverse pretty much everything that the story's worked towards in the past forty minutes. Heroes hasn't been quite as guilty of whipping out the old 'bait and switch' this season but sadly, this is exactly the sort of thing that crippled the show last year. Still, on the whole, this is certainly one of the better offerings of the season, feeling far better paced and much more coherent than a great many episodes. 8.5

418: 'The Wall'

Wr: Adam Armus & Kay Foster
Dr: Allan Arkush

Synopsis: While Peter tries to save Sylar based on his precognitive vision of Emma, Lauren goes after Samuel and Claire learns the dark secrets of Noah's past.

Review: Heroes is desperately trying to say something poignant with 'The Wall' but it just isn't quite sure what. The cod-psychoanalytic, metatextual yawn inducer that is Peter and Sylar's narrative irritates after about the first ten seconds since its teleology is so damn obvious. Before the teaser sequence has even finished, it's apparent that the pair are going to be stuck inside Quinto's head for the duration of the hour, and only escape once some sort of psychological milestone has been traversed or breakthrough has been made. Armus and Foster are trying so hard to be meaningful here that they simply fall flat on their faces. It's predictable, it's contrived, it's bloody boring. For all the programme effectively needs something like this in order to make Sylar's transformation believable (to 'sell it', as they say in the wrestling world), paradoxically, it's both too little and too much all at once. The progression needs to take more than simply one episode, no matter how many years are supposed to have passed for the characters, otherwise it feels too abrupt. However, equally, too much of the episode is taken up with this story; essentially, it's just the same scene written in four or five different ways until the resoundingly unspectacular epiphany is reached. For the most part, it all just feels rather redundant.

Sadly, 'The Wall's other threads aren't strong enough to disguise these flaws. At the Carnival, Samuel and Eli abandon all the dimensions that have been afforded their characters in weeks gone by and become caricatures of themselves, taking on the sort of archetypal villain roles that are borderline comic. It's hard to buy into the threat that they pose when they're spouting hyperbolic nonsense about 'making the world bow down' to their wacky and weird ways. The sudden bait and switch from measured eeriness to B-movie cliche is massively frustrating. Still, at least Claire and HRG's sojourn through black and white history is somewhat entertaining. The revelations about Noah are actually rather astute and tie into the show's mythology well. The idea that he marries Sandra initially out of requirement makes perfect sense and gives a much welcome new dimension to their relationship. It's also nice to see Eric Roberts again and the fact that Claire actually takes her father's side after all of these insights and doesn't run pouting off into the distance should certainly be applauded. It's not quite enough to patch up the episode's weaknesses but at the very least, it provides a nice momentary distraction. 'The Wall's problem, essentially, is that the plot is too thin. It touches the same beats too many times and could certainly benefit from the inclusion of some of the other players. As is, it's a bit too average to be anything to write home about. 6.3

419: 'Brave New World'

Wr: Tim Kring
Dr: Adam Kane

Synopsis: As Noah's life hangs in the balance, Samuel prepares to kill thousands and Peter and the others must band together to stop him and save Emma.

Review: So to the end of the season (already! Would you Adam and Eve it?) and potentially the end of the show if we are to take heed of the rumour mills; Tim Kring signing up to executive produce an entirely new programme does seem to suggest it's on the cards, after all. With 'Brave New World', we've been promised an episode that will tie loose ends up in as sufficient a manner to feel like a satisfactory conclusion has been reached, while simultaneously remaining open-ended enough to allow things to continue into a fifth year if the network decides to shock everyone and their granny with a renewal. And let's give credit where credit's due: the segway into volume six is pretty strong. It's understated, there's no ludicrously contrived dramatic event and crucially, the programme hasn't really traversed this path before (well, save for Nathan's botched attempt a few years ago.) Claire's 'outing' is a logical step and fits perfectly as a resolution to the season's central conundrum. It's also a bold move to allow Panetterie's character to make a decision that isn't based on a prototypically teenage need to rebel against her father, but that is actually considered and well-informed. There is much achieved with very little here and it's the subtle touches that count: the hearkening back to Claire's 'attempts' in season one is a particularly good example of this.

Regrettably, the essential meat of the episode, the forty odd minutes leading up to this moment, doesn't fare quite so well. The essential problem here is Kring's desire to incorporate every loose strand into the hour (an understandable decision, given the show's ratings) which, sadly, he just cannot seem to make work. For whatever reason, his writing skills do not lend themselves well to multiple, laconic narratives. Quick fixes and convenient, glossed-over plot holes are appropriated in the hopes of getting the plot from A to B; the sort of logical, tempered character development that has been the fundamental feature of this year's arc plot is summarily cast to the wayside. Basically, there's just too much going on and consequently, stories aren't sold sufficiently or paid enough mind. The interaction between Matt, Sylar and Peter is particularly guilty of this. Parkman objects to Sylar's sudden change of heart, yes, but a few quick words from Quinto and he's won over. This is inherently flawed anyhow since the concept of Sylar's transformation is all too sudden in itself. Sure, it's been five years for the character but it's kinda hard to buy into this notion when it's only been one week for the rest of us; not to mention the fact that Sylar's intrinsic villainy is so crucially woven into the fabric of the show that to remove it with such immediacy feels rather perfunctory.

When he embarks upon his joint mission with young Petrelli to save the day as suddenly-evil Samuel Sullivan attempts to bury one eleventh (is this a good estimate, do you think?) of New York City, insufficient is made of the effort in order manufacture anything satisfying. While it is a nice twist to have Emma working under Doyle's control, and it is certainly good to see all of the key players being brought in to contribute in however small a fashion to the resolution of this element of the narrative, there simply isn't enough time allocated within the confines of the hour to give the Carnival storyline the conclusion it truly deserves. After three seasons of disappointing climaxes, we should probably know better than to expect any sort of spectacular showdown in these finales, but it would certainly be nice if the resolution didn't essentially amount to Sylar and Emma pushing Doyle about a bit and everyone running away from Samuel. Hell, even Peter's thirty second literal ground-breaking competition with the guy is underwhelming. There's no real sense of urgency to the piece, never any suggestion that maybe, just maybe, T-Bag might prevail. And after having spent so much time establishing the morally murky layers within Knepper's character, layering him with as many dimensions as possible to avoid the archetypal, the finale abandons his arc completely, limiting his screentime to the implementation of his over-the-top plan and then, when everything fails, having him give up completely within about twenty seconds and fall to his knees in defeat, despite having several extremely powerful specials within his general vicinity with which to channel his destructiveness.

The extraneous narratives also suffer as a result of their brevity. The pay-off for Hiro's relationship with Charlie comes entirely out of left field and reads as a rather contrived development. Her presence in exactly the same hospital as her former lover is frankly ludicrous and the subsequent interaction between the two, while fairly sweet in itself, is hopelessly telegraphed. It is quite evident that a half-baked moral lesson is being bashed into our skulls; that Hiro needs to learn that his time-travelling antics have far-reaching consequences. The minutiae simply aren't complex enough to disguise the story's teleology and thus, the viewer is forgiven for thinking 'is that it?' once the resolution takes place. There are similar problems with Noah and Claire's underground captivity. While Coleman and Panettiere are excellent and Kring's dialogue has the sparkle of old, it's difficult to escape the fact that there is never any shred of doubt that a quick fix will be implemented in order to allow HRG to escape... and lo and behold, just as everyone starts welling up and it looks like Noah's about to join the choir invisible, Tracey Strauss shows up just in the nick of time to get Kring out of the corner he's painted himself into... and then buggers off without so much as goodbye seconds later! The problem is solved, tucked away and forgotten about so that the story can turn to more pressing points; who cares about the fact that it reads horribly and deflates any sense of tension or suspense from the narrative? We've got an end point to reach, for God's sake!

While there are certainly laudable elements in 'Brave New World', sadly, Tim Kring falls foul of his own weaknesses for the fourth consecutive season, delivering a finale that relies on contrivance and superficiality to get to its destination, never giving the narrative strands the level of attention that they truly deserve. It's a bit of a perfunctory end to the season (and potentially the show) and leaves you feeling rather underwhelmed. Sure, the opening to a potential 'volume six' shows considerable promise but frankly, it's hard to care in the wake of what's come before it. Maybe Heroes' potential cancellation is something of a blessing in disguise. 6.0

Television review: Lost #601 and #602: 'LA X parts one and two'

601 and 602: 'LA X parts one and two'

Wr: Damon Lindelof & Carlton Cuse
Dr: Jack Bender

Synopsis: The aftermath from Juliet's detonation of the hydrogen bomb is revealed.

Review: If ever there were any doubt as to the insurmountable talents of Lost's executive producers and showrunners Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse, one need only look to this double-header opener for the show's sixth and final season for proof that yup, these guys truly are the very definition of genii. When the fifth season ended quite literally with an almighty bang as Juliet detonated the bomb at the base of the Swan station, it appeared to everyone and their grandmother that the narrative could go one of two ways: the logical route, as dictated by the laws of time travel that have been outlined within the show, by which the attempt would fail due to the fact that The Incident always occurred, or the more fanciful route, in which the writers would press the reset button on the narrative; the plan would succeed and the Losties would never crash on the Island, making it all the way to LA X. No one considered the possibility that both could happen... but here we are, nine months later, our expectations confounded once again.

This really is a fantastic conceit, superbly crafted. Its strength lies in its inherent obliqueness; we don't know the meaning of what it is that we are watching. The narratives run side by side, juxtaposing one another, but we are never treated to an explanation as their purpose, or how they sit within the framework of the show. There are a number of interpretations: firstly, that the two are mutually exclusive and rather than being a definitive depiction of some sort of chronology, they function as a sort of 'what if'. Are Cuse and Lindelof showing us both sets of consequences? Will the episodes take us on a dualistic narratalogical journey until the finale, wherein we will see two conclusions? Should we treat this as a metatextual decision rather than a canonical one? (Or, if we wish to fit it into the teleology of the over-arching story, as some sort of parallel universe narrative?) Then, of course, we have the possibility that both strands are actuality, that one is simply a consequence of the other. So, the reversion to LA X happens but at a future point to where we are in terms of the show's unique chronology. Somehow, through the duration of the sixth season, through the continued trials and tribulations on the Island, the Losties will get another opportunity to change history. This certainly seems likelier - the narrative for the sixth year, much like the fourth, would essentially be cyclical, exploring the aftermath of the 'flash point' as well as how that point is reached.

However we wish to look at this device, there is no denying that it makes for utterly compelling viewing. The decision to explore the consequences of Flight 815 landing in L.A. not only allows for some old faces to get a little more screen time - it's great to see Ian Somerhalder back as the much-missed Boone (although Shannon's absence is a little conspicuous), Dominic Monaghan as pre-Island, messed up Charlie and, indeed, to hear Greg Grunberg's dulcet tones as the unfortunate pilot - but it also gives the narrative a deal of breathing space, taking characters in previously unexplored directions and making new connections. Jack befriending a wheelchair-bound Locke is perhaps the best example of this; it's a wonderfully organic sequence, playing exactly like any surface-level encounter would. Kate's efforts to escape the clutches of the Yellow Eyed Demon from Supernatural are also somewhat intriguing. As we end the episode on her commandeering a taxi with Claire inside, it looks like their lives are destined, once more, to become intertwined. One imagines this is how most of these strands will play out over the course of the season, since this is sure to continue through to the finale. We will see how the Losties become connected regardless of the Island, and also explore how they deal with the respective issues and neuroses that they resolved, to a greater or lesser extent, while cast away (Jin and Sun being a prime example). And it's a testament to the strength of every single member of the cast that they slip effortlessly back into their former roles as if it's been five minutes, not five years, in the interim.

On the Island, meanwhile, Lindelof and Cuse treat us to one gargantuan juggernaut of a plot, revealing facts, people and places previously only hinted at within the arc story. The notion that Jacob's 'old friend' is Smokey is something that many have hypothesised in the gap between seasons but its revelation comes as no less dramatic an event. The sequence in which the creature lays Jacob's bodyguards to waste is stupendous, brilliantly macabre and eerie, largely because we still don't know, after six whole years, exactly what the damn thing is or what those ruddy noises are. Tasked with portraying the 'human' aspect of the entity, Terry O'Quinn does an absolutely stellar job, making every line of dialogue seem like the creepiest thing you've ever heard. When he informs us that he wants to go home at hour's end, it's unrelentingly disturbing, the maddening look in Locke's eyes magnifying the unnerving nature of the scene. His interactions with both Ben and Richard are also rather beguiling, particularly the latter given that there seems to be some distinctly loaded history between the two.

Over the other side of the rock, Josh Holloway proves his worth a million times over with a colossally impressive goodbye sequence to Juliet. Credit to Elizabeth Mitchell, she's fantastic too and I defy anyone not to get at least a little teary-eyed at Sawyer holding her in his arms, trying to cling to the hope that she'll survive. Subsequently, of course, he's brilliant at conveying the character's anger, bitterness, resentment and sorrow, with sequences with Jack, Kate and Miles all stealing the show at various points. This being Lost, one death in two episodes simply isn't enough, so Lindelof and Cuse tease us with Sayed's unfortunate passing too in a series of scenes that finally allow us to get some semblance of a glimpse into the batshit lives of the Natives. The fabled Temple is revealed and it's rather nifty, the weird whispers return, Cyndi makes an appearance (let's hope she sheds some light on what it is that these guys actually do!) and we find out exactly how Ben, and probably many others, were healed. Dunk them in some water, turn the hourglass and watch wonders work. Naturally, there are still many questions unanswered here, not the least of which is how Sayed manages to survive after having been pronounced dead, but even if there are few explanations, the story itself has sufficient dramatic momentum and enough intriguing intricacies to make for something truly fascinating.

In amongst all of this, we haven't even mentioned the ankh in Hurley's guitar case (a fantastic and unexpected twist), Miles's intriguing channelling of Juliet (what does she mean by 'it worked'?), the unusual blood mark on Jack's neck in the teaser sequence and Desmond's presence on the plane which prompts a slue of questions in itself. There's just so much on offer here that it's easy to lose track of all the talking points and that can only be described as a very, very good thing. 'LA X parts one and two' are episodes packed to the brim with drama, development, intrigue and mystery, designed both to confound your expectations and satisfy your need for clarity. With a wonderfully original plot structure and many, many outstanding scenes, this is yet another instant classic and a season opener to treasure. If this is the shape of Lost to come, we're in for the ride of our lives. 9.5 (both episodes)