The 2008-2009 Caruso Awards: Miscellaneous Bits and Bobs

The new TV season is full swing, and yet here I am, still talking about last season. Of course, I’ve farted around for a couple of weeks doing very important things (not playing Halo 3: ODST, no matter what my endless tweets and Raptr updates will say), and am only now getting around to putting this up. Please forgive my tardiness.

Though I don’t want to say too much about the new season, which is just coming into shape, I will say that some shows (Fringe, House) have yet to get back to full strength, some (CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Dollhouse, Lie To Me) have come back with a confident bang, and some new shows (Community, Flashforward) have really piqued my interest. One new show (Modern Family) made me think I will never trust another critic ever again. Unless something really dreadful comes along, I think I have my Worst New Pilot of the 2009-2010 Season winner already sewn up.

Anyway, here are my final thoughts on the 2008i-2009 season. There were originally going to be more YouTube clips on here, but I’ve had a dispiriting day watching them get taken down. Fox and NBC, sorry for infringing on your copyright, but all you did was get rid of some free publicity, as I was going to tell the world how awesome your shows were. Except for that clip from Heroes. That was up because Angela Petrelli’s insanely histrionic reaction to her son’s death was the funniest thing of the year. So I can understand that one. And now, on with the hyperbole…

Best New Show: Sons of Anarchy

If one were to be unduly harsh, you could compare the first episode of Sons of Anarchy with the pilot of The Shield. Considering that is easily one of the most impressive and instantly captivating pilots ever made, there was little chance that showrunner Kurt Sutter could ever compete. That he made a pilot as good as the one that kickstarted his biker epic is a testament to his skill as a writer, and his decision to get jusdhfjsh in to direct it is exactly the kind of smart move that a good showrunner should make. The first few episodes were not perfect, but the building blocks were there.
What setsSons of Anarchyapart from every other show debuting during the 2008-2009 period — even the eventually superbDollhouse– is how quickly changes were made, and how confidently they were put in place. By the time season highlight The Pull came around, it was already shaping up to be essential TV, but that episode propelled it onto a completely different level of excellence. Ramping up the pace of the show and throwing one or two of the less interesting characters into terrible danger and potentially ruinous moral compromise, the show became something that could well rival the mightyShieldfor complexity and dramatic power. It helps that it features one of the best casts on TV right now, filling out its main cast (which includes Ron Perlman, an impressive star-making turn from Charlie Hunnam, and relentless magnignificence from the ever-awesome Kim Coates, let’s not forget) with guests spots for Mitch Pileggi, Drea DeMatteo, Jay Karnes, Dayton Callie, Maggie Siff, and the incredible Ally Walker, wwho blows everyone else away with her unhinged warrior mentality and fearless sexuality. And in season two, we get Adam Arkin and Henry Rollins. Seriously, what’s not to love? From all accounts, the second season is even more unhinged than the first, which is saying something considering the incredible brutality and amoral shenanigans from the first. I can’t wait to dive in.

If one were to be unduly harsh, you could compare the first episode of Sons of Anarchy with the pilot of The Shield. Considering that is easily one of the most impressive and instantly captivating pilots ever made, there was little chance that showrunner Kurt Sutter could ever compete. That he made a pilot as good as the one that kickstarted his biker epic is a testament to his skill as a writer, and his decision to get Sopranos director/producer Allen Coulter in to co-direct it is exactly the kind of smart move that a good showrunner should make. The first few episodes were not perfect, but the building blocks were there.

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What sets Sons of Anarchy apart from every other show debuting during the 2008-2009 period — even the eventually superb Dollhouse — is how quickly changes were made, and how confidently they were put in place. By the time season highlight The Pull came around, it was already shaping up to be essential TV, but that episode propelled it onto a completely different level of excellence. Ramping up the pace of the show and throwing one or two of the less interesting characters into terrible danger / potentially ruinous moral compromise, Sons of Anarchy hinted that it could become something that will rival the mighty Shield for complexity and dramatic power. It helps that it features one of the best ensembles on TV right now, filling out its main cast (which, let’s not forget, includes Ron Perlman, an impressive star-making turn from Charlie Hunnam, and relentless magnificence from Kim Coates) with guests spots for Mitch Pileggi, Drea DeMatteo, Jay Karnes, Dayton Callie, Maggie Siff, and the incredible Ally Walker, who blows everyone else away with her terrifying warrior mentality and fearless sexuality. And in season two, we get Adam Arkin and Henry Rollins. Seriously, what’s not to love? From all accounts, the second season is even more unhinged than the first, which is saying something considering the incredible brutality and amoral shenanigans from the first. I can’t wait to dive in.

Worst New Show: Parks and Recreation

Creators Greg Daniels and Michael Schur are not idiots, obviously, but this landed with a terrible splat and couldn’t convince me to hang around long enough to see if it would improve. Part of that was because I was mad at the dip in quality over at The Office. Was it fair to blame this show for that? Probably not. Parks and Recreation has been mooted for so long (remember when it was supposed to be a straight spin-off of The Office?) that their attention has probably been divided for a long time, and the fourth season of The Office was great. Nevertheless, the energy of one show definitely seemed to have been split between two, and the result was a listless hour of supposed comedy.

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I have fought with myself over whether it would have been worth hanging around to see if it got better, but then I remember little things that irked like the way the showrunners differentiated the talking head interjections from those of The Office — using two cameras for the faux-interviews instead of one — which drove me into fits of absurd rage. The Office already has trouble keeping the faux-doc format going, and this conceit draws even more attention to the fakeness of it all. Perhaps I’m just burned out on this format. ABC’s new comedy Modern Family has been heralded as the next great sitcom after just two episodes, with across the board raves. We watched last week’s pilot in a state of shock. Flamboyant gay stereotypes? Clunking, obvious jokes about the generation gap? Appalling overacting from everyone (with Julie Bowen being the worst offender)? A character misinterpreting the accent of a Columbian woman? (I say Columbian because Sofia Vergara is from Columbia. She’s probably expected to play someone from a different country in this.) Modern Family is exactly the kind of retrograde laugh-track-enhanced sitcom that seems almost archaic now, but because it’s filmed in a single camera faux-doc style, it’s treated as a cutting-edge exploration of modern American mores. Bullshit. It’s Everybody Loves Raymond. Dressing a raccoon in baseball gear doesn’t make it a baseball player. It just makes it a raccoon covered in sport gear. (Note to self: use less raccoons in metaphors. It just complicates things.)

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I also remember one potentially funny scene in Parks and Recreation — involving hapless and strangely unlovable Leslie trying to convince a bunch of ill-informed citizens that her plans are worthwhile — failing to take off, and I realise that after this summer of purposely ignorant right-wing hijacking of the health-care town hall debates, this kind of scene probably won’t ever be funny again. Democracy failing to work because of the Crazification Factor getting in the way of intelligent debate is something I just can’t laugh at right now. What makes this turn of events most sad is that the concept is so full of potential, and yet it didn’t even work before the protests. I can’t figure out how you could take an idea this promising and fail to make something that mixes madness and profundity in the same way as The Office. Compare that to Knight Rider. That was always going to be shit. This should have been a potent mix of satire and ridiculousness. That’s why I have to put it in this category. Apparently it has found its stride in the second season, from what I’ve heard on the Hinternet. Sadly, the people who are saying that also keep going on about how Modern Family is hilarious. So, you know…

Best Title Sequence of the Year: Hung

The choice of music (I’ll Be Your Man by The Black Keys), the phallic objects in the background, the pace of it…

…It’s a perfect title sequence.

Best Pilot: Kings

From what I can gather, there was very little publicity for Kings when it made its way onto the screen. Many have said this was the reason for its failure to find an audience, though to be honest a literate curio like this was unlikely to ever become a breakthrough hit. Alternate histories? Playing with Biblical stories? Unappealing main characters? It just seemed like a real long shot. It was impressive to see NBC gamble on making the show in the first place, but as with the equally intelligent Journeyman, making a show and trying to make the show available to a wide audience are two different things.

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To be honest, with Journeyman the hurt is greater. That show was less ambitious, but as a result was more likely to find an audience if given a chance. It also improved as it went along. Kings started off incredibly strong and then stalled a little. That’s the problem when a show gets a pilot this impressive. Written by showrunner Michael Green and directed by the underrated Francis Lawrence, Goliath (the name of the pilot) was like no other pilot I’ve ever seen. Even though it was made on a shoestring, it looked incredible. Even more appealing, it had a weird edge of fantasy even beyond the alternate earth conceit, with God interacting with certain characters in a matter of fact way even though the show did not explicitly preach Christian values.

Perhaps this more than anything alienated audiences: atheists might rebel against a show that openly debates the wishes of God, and Christians might be irked by this God not being a recognisable version of their God. While I fall into the first category, I don’t mind God turning up in fiction as long as It’s not used as a deus ex machina or Unexplainable Puppeteer (hello Battlestar Galactica) or as an accurate version of “our” God (a sky bully who gets pissed off if we don’t play by Its crazy rules). The version of God in Kings was not a big deal, but Its mysterious behaviour, and effect on the behaviour of the main characters, was fascinating.

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As was the superb character King Silas Benjamin (not to mention his allies and enemies), and the superb use of New York locations (standing in for the fictional city of Shiloh) to give a sense of epic scale to the show, and the incredible cast… As I say, the show was fascinating to watch right up until its unfortunate cancellation, but it never quite lived up to the promise of that amazing pilot, simply because the pilot made you think you were watching the most amazing show ever. We weren’t, but it was damn good nevertheless. Even the slightly disappointing finished product was better than almost everything else on TV. You could practically sense the cult following develop as you watched, not to mention hear the knives coming out for it as you realise how odd the project was. We’re lucky we saw any of it, to be honest.

Worst Pilot: The Unusuals

Seemingly rushed into production as a result of the writers’ strike, The Unusuals matched an underwhelming concept with a poorly defined set of uninteresting characters, failed to find a consistent tone, and handed off directing chores to the ever-feeble Stephen Hopkins, a man who has never made even one good film (I remember liking The Ghost and the Darkness when I first saw it, but I fear I’m being kind). There was no way I was going to enjoy this.

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The main reason for my annoyance is that there were some good actors in there who just couldn’t rise above the material or the execution. Some of the most interesting actors — both promising and established — flounder within the show’s poorly thought-through format, with some characters played as broad as possible and others reining in the madness. Jeremy Renner in particular looks like he’s wandered in from another show. Harold Perrineau does okay with his skittish character, while Adam Goldberg sucks all of the energy out of his scenes with a sour and unappealing demeanour, not to mention a terrible mustache. The conceit that a hypochondriac with a fear of death is partnered with a man who wants to die and yet seems blessed is one of those ideas that sounds great on the page and fails on screen.

As for Amber Tamblyn, playing a high-society girl trying to make it as a cop in the cuh-rayzee precinct, it was a more entertaining concept when rich-boy Carter turned up in E.R. That was only one of the shows this seemed to emulate. M.A.S.H., NYPD BlueHill Street BluesHooperman (for crying out loud): it was an echo of greater shows, a throwback to 80s cop dramas when they started to become more confident and complex. Sad thing is, we don’t want babysteps any more. We’ve moved on. The low ratings and inevitable cancellation of this show proved that. Let’s hope those good actors turn up in better projects now.

Best Pilot of the Year Not Selected For Series: Virtuality

I won’t go into how much I hated the Battlestar Galactica finale again, as I’m beginning to come across as a total crazy person who is obsessed with going on about it, but it did make me reconsider trying out Caprica, the Stoltzified spin-off. Why should I keep watching shows set in this universe, made by this team, who had so disappointed me throughout the last few seasons? Yes, Jane Espenson would be there too, and I love her work, but still, I cannot imagine being invested in this story any more. There is a good chance I’ll relent, because good SF is hard to find on TV at the best of times. Nevertheless, my annoyance remains.

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You can imagine how uninterested I was in another Ronald D. Moore / Michael Taylor show (I was never fond of his BSG episodes), especially one that seemed so prosaic. Moore has stated in the past that he was interested in making BSG because he felt the urge to rebel against Star Trek‘s chirpy universe and its reliance on holodeck technology to change up the show, which made Virtuality — a show about space travellers who use virtual reality technology to relax — a curious proposition. I resisted this too, and then relented after seeing the feeble Defying Gravity, which seemed to be drawn from the same template. Thinking Virtuality would be nothing more than a space soap along the same lines as the other network drama, I gave it a spin, expecting little.

I love it when I’m proved wrong like this. As much as Fox’s other new SF show – Dollhouse – Virtuality is a fascinating and challenging exploration of ideas, dramatically filmed and featuring an excellent cast. In fact, the cast is even stronger than that of Dollhouse, with excellent turns from Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, Sienna Guillory, Richie Coster (who needs more work, stat), and the ever-dependable Clea DuVall. All the actors are on top form, but these four really stand out. As for the comparison with Defying Gravity, the only thing they have in common is being set in space. Virtuality is about so much more: our perception of reality and how it will inevitably be twisted by the lens we observe through, how technology can affect us emotionally, how we refuse to let it go even when it is obviously not doing us any good (an idea expressed far more clearly here than in Lee Adama’s ridiculous speech in the final BSG episode). While Defying Gravity really is a soap set in space (with one character seemingly completely defined by the pregnancy she once terminated, which is as regressive a character arc as is possible), Virtuality is about ideas. It’s proper SF.

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At least, it was proper SF. Even though it was obviously incredibly ambitious and beautifully made (with top direction from Shades of Caruso favourite Peter Berg), and even though were was huge potential for relatively cheap but gripping drama, it was shelved. I’m utterly depressed by this turn of events. There was only one misstep in the whole pilot, with a nasty perception-rape sequence that made me uncomfortable. Reliance on rape plots always upsets me, but here even this most unpleasant of plot threads is used to further the show’s exploration of whether there is a gap between virtual and actual reality, and what happens to us when we lose track of the difference between the two. If the show was willing to treat something potentially exploitative as cleverly as this, we would almost certainly have seen a lot of very smart SF in the rest of the series. But no. While Whedon got lucky with Dollhouse, the Virtuality team saw their show taken away before they could go any further. The best thing I can say about it? It was better than most movies I’ve seen this year. It’s a crying shame there will be no more.

Most Unfairly Cancelled Show of the Year: Reaper

Patton Oswalt is a brilliantly funny and caustic man, but recently he broke my heart. In this interview, he explained how, while filming his turn on Reaper, he saw the crew and cast crushed by their parent network, The CW.

When I did Reaper, the episode I originally did was supposed to be the beginning of this introduction to this overall mythology, because they clearly were taking the Joss Whedon playbook: You have a monster of the week for a while, and then you start linking it all up, and you create this overarching kind of world and story. And in the middle of the week, the network just came down on them and said “No, go back to monster of the week.” And you could feel this deflation amongst the actors, because they really understood that they had to start putting mythology into things. The network was just like, “Nope!”

This is the network that, when it was The WB, cancelled Angel, so I already have a big problem with them. Now I have an even bigger one. It may have not become something more ambitious, but it was endlessly lovable, and became admirably silly in the second season. The first was funny, but at times the second season was funnier than many sitcoms. The monster-of-the-week format of the show, which had seemed so restrictive, sometimes ended up shoved into the cold open, with the rest of the episode dealing with silly relationship drama, Sock shenanigans, or sly mythology expanding business with recurring characters like Nina or Tony. This might not be as involving as Buffy, but it was never as blandly diverting as something like The Mentalist. It fell right in the middle, which is apparently deadly.

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That greater focus on just being daft was working for us, but the lack of a coherent arc from week to week (other than Sam’s lacklustre efforts to get out of his contract, and the hints that he is a more important player in the battle between God and The Devil) seemed to doom it. More than any other show departing this year, this is the one we’ll miss. Goodbye to one of the most entertaining casts on TV, some of the most eccentric writing of the past few years, and most of all, goodbye to the best Devil in recent pop culture history. He may be showing up in Dollhouse, but will Ray Wise be this mischievous, charming, delightful? Ray Wise fans everywhere, please come together one last time to marvel at that beautiful, beautiful grin.

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At least one of us is smiling, I guess. [Insert sad-face emoticon here]

Best New Double Act of the Year: Ray Drecker and Tanya Skagle - Hung

When compiling the list of best and worst characters, I had certain unspoken rules in place to stop myself from focusing exclusively on certain shows. Party Down‘s cast of beautifully observed characters could have dominated the first list, and Knight Rider could have dominated the second. My biggest quandary was caused by Hung, HBO’s lovable male-prostitution-and-economic-disaster comedy that has so entertained us recently. How do I get to honour two of the funniest characters of the year without breaking that rule? As ever, inventing a new category is the perfect answer. Hung is a show that has a few tonal errors (what was going on with the horribly misconceived Jessica, played with occasional delicacy by Anne Heche?) and a very loosely defined season arc (two pimps fighting over Ray and his magical dong), not to mention some wasted actors (why hire Gregg Henry and put him in about five scenes?). At times, it felt like we were watching half a show.

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Nevertheless, it became appointment viewing just because of the wonderful work of Thomas Jane and Jane Adams. Their chemistry, and their relentless bickering and grudging friendship, was the thing that made Hung exceed its limitations. It also made Shades of Caruso reconsider the talents of both actors. Thomas Jane was given moments of pathos which he has never really had a chance to play before, and he excelled, especially in the season finale. Jane Adams has always played sad-sack losers, but this time she was given a chance to give Tanya some nobility even as her plans fell apart around her. Both actors also got to show off their physical comedy skills, with Adams especially amusing during her many impotent temper tantrums.

It was their interplay that really held the show together. Even as other plot threads and arcs seemed to falter or shoot off in predictable directions, watching these two actors play off each other was more than enough to save the show. It’s notable that episodes where Ray and Tanya aren’t onscreen together were the weakest of the season, whereas the ones which explored their dependent relationship and accidental exploration of each other’s personality were the most satisfying. Hopefully the show continues to throw these polar opposites together next year.

Best New Couple of the Year: Sawyer and Juliet – Lost

Ah yes, the love triangle/quadrangle. The constant refrain of Lost doubters (and some fans) is that the show is wasting its time whenever it focuses on the relationship drama of Jack, Sawyer, Kate, and Juliet. “We don’t care about that shit! Show more Faraday!” Yes yes, love drama tends to make me go to sleep as well. Many shows are hamstrung by tedious relationship dramas: House is at its dreariest when Thirteen and Foreman, or Cameron and Chase, go on and on about their coupledom; Kings ground to a halt every time David and Michelle made goo-goo eyes at each other. Hell, even the otherwise perfect Party Down was at its least interesting every time Henry and Casey got together. So there is precedent.

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However, I love the relationship drama from Lost for two reasons. One: at the end of the season, we see how far Jack has fallen from grace. We thought he was the square-jawed all-American hero who would bring everyone out of the wilderness like a be-stubbled Moses, but over time we see he’s a deeply damaged, semi-psychotic loser who – as we find out in the final episode of season five – even lied about his character-defining anecdote from the very first episode. How much of a loser is he? After pushing away the woman he “loves” with his whiny attitude and various emotional breakdowns, and after years of trying to figure out what his purpose is now that his dad isn’t around to torture him, he has two choices to make a difference in his life: a) man up and seek help for his depression, all while giving up on the thought of making a go of things with Kate, or b) detonate a nuclear bomb, killing everyone on the island, in the hope that it will change history and allow Oceanic 815 to land safely in LAX so he doesn’t have to put up with the mess he made of his life. I’ve said before that one of the things I love about Lost is that it shows the psychology of its characters in minute detail, and this final touch – showing how far people will go to avoid making simple changes in their lives because of their fear of what will happen if it fails – is the perfect metaphor for how we hold onto our broken selves even when we know how to make things better.

Two: It also gave us the wonderful, tragic pairing of Sawyer and Juliet, which justifies all of the sturm and drang to get there. So far, all of the pairings that have been tried were wrong somehow. Jack and Kate didn’t work because Jack is insane. Kate and Sawyer didn’t work because Kate keeps messing with Sawyer’s head. Jack and Juliet didn’t work because Jack was not even slightly into Juliet and was just using her to get over Kate. However, as soon as the fourth season ended with a shirtless Sawyer walking out of the sea towards a drunken Juliet, I knew we would get to see something go right. And, for the most part, it did, even though it was not to be.

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It’s not just that the combined hottness of Sawyer and Juliet is so great that it probably melted most of the TVs in the world. It’s also not just that selfish Kate and crazy Jack were finally out of the equation. It’s even not just because seeing Sawyer and Juliet flirting while shooting people was the most awesome thing ever. It’s that there was barely any controversy in the relationship, which probably would have even survived the forthcoming Purge, somehow. It’s only when Kate returns to the island and reignites Juliet’s psychological damage (previously caused by the break-up of her parents, the infidelity of her ex-husband, and the death of her lover Goodwin) that it all goes horribly wrong. Did Sawyer still hold a candle for Kate? Probably. Did he love Juliet? I reckon yes, and I believe he would have done anything for her if she had given him the chance. All of this made the quadrangle emotionally powerful, as we finally had something to hang on to. Would Sawyer and Juliet survive the machinations of the island/Esau and Jacob? More than any other relationship in TV history (except for Fred and Wesley in Angel), my nerves were set on fire by the possibility that those kids might not make it after all. Of course…

Most Upsetting, Most Harsh, and Most Unfair Scene of the Year: The Incident finally happens – Lost

…we all know how it turned out. Nothing else this year made me cry as much as this.

Damn you, stupid TV show! Damn you for being so fucking mean! And damn you Emmy voters for not giving nominations to Elizabeth Mitchell and Josh Holloway. They were amazing all season.

Worst New Couple of the Year: Luke and Bess - In Treatment

In Treatment‘s second season deviated dramatically from its source material — the Israeli drama Be’Tipul — when it moved main character Paul Weston from Maryland to Brooklyn, allowing the show to dramatise his dislocation from his family, as well as to provide a reason for why he suddenly has so many new patients. This meant that we lost the chance to see season one patients Amy and Jake return, this time as a divorced couple fighting over their son, leading to the creation of two new patients, Luke and Bess. With their marriage in tatters and resentment flying between them, their son Oliver suffers terribly, putting on weight and falling into depression as his parents either fight for custody of him or, amazingly, against custody.

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None of the characters in this show are particularly nice to Paul, but the games Luke and Bess play with him, using his advice as justification for a serious of awful, selfish choices, were worse than the usual antagonism people show their therapist. Many times during the season I was horrified by their behaviour, and by the time the season finished they were openly talking about how their lives had been ruined by their marriage and how they wanted another chance at what they had with barely any regard for Oliver’s well-being. When Paul finally loses his temper with them in episode 28, it elicited a round of applause from us. Figuratively speaking. And to be honest, he should have been even angrier with them.

Of course, this being In Treatment, these two horribly selfish people are written so well that we can see their point of view — and their humanity — clearly enough that even at their worst we cannot completely write them off. Their eventual remorse is a relief, but it’s still not enough considering how completely both parents are oblivious to the young boy’s needs. Thankfully, Paul is there to prove to Oliver that he will still be there for him, in some respect. His final scene with Oliver, talking to him via “phone” in his office, started a deluge of tears from this admittedly weepy viewer. If Oliver escapes this miserable situation with his psyche intact, it will have nothing to do with his parents.

Most Underused Character of the Year: Boyd Langton - Dollhouse

Whedon has a talent for peppering his casts with older character actors playing the “parents” to the younger crew. With Buffy we had Giles, in Angel there was Wesley (though his efficacy is doubtful; he’s arguably more flawed than any of his compatriots), and Firefly had Shepherd Book. These stern characters with hearts of gold gave their respective shows some kind of grounding when things got wacky, though Whedon wasn’t averse to making them run through some ridiculous hoops (Book’s mad hair, Wesley’s various pratfalls, Giles’ guitar playing). Sadly, while Langton got a chance to be silly in the disappointing comedy episode Echoes, he rarely got a chance to do anything interesting either. Many characters got to have interesting arcs and secrets, but Langton seemed to be getting less and less screentime as the series wore on. Making him head of security broke the student-mentor relationship between him and Echo, but then this might be Whedon trying to throw his own archetypes out, confounding our expectations. That he would give handler-duties to someone who appears to have an unhealthy sexual attraction to Echo (I’m talking about the plasticine-man known as Ballard) shows there might be something to that.

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Nevertheless, it is a shame to cast someone like Harry Lennix — who has intense onscreen presence and then some — and then not give him as much to do as possible. His new role means he will interact more with Olivia Williams, meaning the two best actors on the show get to bang heads together: joy! That promotion, along with his new connection to Whiskey/Dr. Saunders, suggests he will be given more to do in the second season, but nevertheless, his relative inaction in later episodes was one of the few things I didn’t like about the improved half of the first season.

Most Entertaining Villain of the Year: Gemma Teller Morrow – Sons of Anarchy

One of the great pleasures of Sons of Anarchy is how it mixes up its Shakespeare. The debt it owes to Hamlet has been acknowledged by creator Kurt Sutter, but less attention has been paid to his shameless steal from Macbeth. Gemma Teller Morrow — former wife of SAMCRO leader John Teller — at first seems like a strong biker chick, but by the end of the pilot episode has revealed herself to be a conniving, power-hungry Queen whose sense of morality has been twisted until she will do anything to protect her family and the direction of the gang, a fact proved by her attempt at driving Jax’s junkie wife Wendy to an overdose. Later in the season she apologises to Wendy for this act, but even then she’s only doing it because she’d rather her son stay with a recovering junkie than return to his longtime sweetheart Tara. Plus, she does seem to be implicated in John’s death, possibly committed by her current husband Clay Morrow, which appears to have been done to prevent a change of direction towards legitimacy for the biker gang.

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The most miraculous thing about this character is that she has dispelled my previous reservations about the talents of Katey Sagal. I’ve complained about her terrible voicework on Futurama before, where she leaves no joke intact, but I had suspected her dramatic work was not as shaky. She was great as John Locke’s departed love Helen in Lost, for example. In Sons of Anarchy, she’s even better, outacting even Ron Perlman when she’s in full flow. This display of Macchiavellian sneakiness got even more entertaining as the season progressed. There was a certain amount of character modulation during the latter half of the season, with some of her excesses toned down, and the horribly stagy confrontations between her and Tara tweaked until they sounded like actual human conversations, but even so, her Lady-Macbeth-esque manipulations of all around her were a source of delight even when she misfired a little. Gemma, as Journey almost said once, don’t stop conniving.

Least Entertaining Villain of the Year: Miguel Prado - Dexter

Dexter sure does have some crappy nemeses. In the first season, he goes up against his own brother, played with ridiculous camp evilness by Christian Camargo. In the second season, he is forced to conquer his evil girlfriend, manifested by Jaime Murray with a bag of absurd tics even more annoying than those of Dexter’s sister Debs, who is played by the equally dreadful Jennifer Carpenter. In the fourth season we’re getting John Lithgow. My memories of his madness from De Palma’s Raising Cain do not bode well for any Over-Act-O-Meters used to track the progress of this show, though I reckon he will be infinitely more entertaining than Dexter’s other “villains”.

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Last year we got to see Jimmy Smits contend with the usual quota of ineptitude, improbable motivation, and mustache-twirling obviousness that comprises the Dexter Big Bad, and he made a meal of it. Amping up his intensity to sky-high levels, Miguel Prado went from saint to madman in the blink of an eye, all pretense at showing him as a morally complex human thrown out of the window with a haste even this most feeble of shows has never exhibited before. His cluelessness meant his occasional victories against Dexter relied upon our “hero”‘s IQ dropping 100 points, which is a flaw that has run through the show from the beginning. Prado would then, naturally, make a bunch of mistakes, all the while chewing scenery like a murderous Donald Sinden. I say he was the least entertaining villain of the year because watching his character arc was deeply unsatisfying, with him changing his personality from moment to moment in order to move the plot, and not vice versa, but I did get a lot of pleasure from his reaction after he finally kills a bad guy.

Nastiest Villain of the Year: Nolan – Dollhouse

I can’t make any glib observations about this. Whedon is an avowed feminist, and this new show seemed to be a peculiar expression of that worldview, drawing both perplexed condemnation and optimistic readings. The fact that the show didn’t immediately say that the Dollhouse was a bad place threw a lot of viewers (including myself), but I’m sure a lot of Whedon’s fans (again, including myself) hoped that things would be clearer in the long run.

By the end of the season it was obvious that the Dollhouse tech was meant to be The Worst Thing That Has Happened To Humanity Ever, and not just because it brings about the end of the world (or at least, the end of Humanity). The most graphic and upsetting example of this comes in the excellent episode Needs, where the Actives come to and “escape” their prison (but only because they are allowed to). Drawn to the terrible things that have made them volunteer for Activeness, we see November visiting the grave of her child, and Echo deciding to stay behind to rescue her fellow Actives (surely this should worry the Dollhouse executives a bit more). Sierra, who I’d never found to be particularly compelling, goes to see the man who has paid the Dollhouse to make her an Active. Any doubt that the Dollhouse is a force for evil is removed once we find out that Nolan (played with oily menace by Vincent Ventresca) has paid the Dollhouse to turn her — a woman who once refused him — into an Active just so that he can violate a woman her whenever he feels like it. As Couch Baron says here, there truly are no words that can describe how awful this is. It was the most potent way to show how dreadful this technology is, and upset me deeply. The bad taste remained for the rest of the season. How rare for a network show to explore this kind of moral depravity without shying away from it.

Best Cast of the Year: Party Down

Just as with this year’s Best New Double Act category, I created this category last year to give shout-out to Reaper‘s wonderful cast, which featured a host of great actors, especially Ray Wise, Tyler Labine, and Ken Marino. This year, Party Down gets a nod for featuring so many great actors, including Ken Marino. If I’d been blogging when Veronica Mars started, I probably would have highlighted the terrific cast of that show too, which would have meant discussing Ken Marino’s turn as sleazy private investigator Vinnie Van Lowe. Basically, Ken Marino seems to be my weakness. If he’s around, I am helpless.

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Which is not to say Party Down worked solely because of him. As I’ve mentioned at length in my Best New Characters award list, Jane Lynch is breathtakingly good as Constance Carmell, and her replacement (Jennifer Coolidge) was just as good. Of the core cast, I’d highlight Ryan Hansen too, playing the adorably clueless Kyle Bradway — basically Dick Casablancas with a heart of gold. His vapid interactions with Jane Lynch are the highlight of many episodes, and he even manages to make tolerable the time spent with Martin Starr, here doing worryingly convincing work as the deeply unpleasant Roman DeBeers. He’s probably the weak link in the cast, though I would also become annoyed by the endless hipsterish emotional evasions of Casey Klein, played by Lizzy Caplan. (Side note: I think it’s fair to say that, thanks to real-world annoyances too numerous to count, I automatically take against any character on TV who spends all of their time on the phone instead of doing their job, or while other people are trying to talk to them. Those caveats are meant to signify that Jack Bauer is not to be considered one of these people. When he’s on the phone, he’s actually saving the world).

At the heart of this amazing ensemble is Adam Scott, formerly playing Palek the Vulcan Inseminatron from Tell Me You Love Me, and now utterly rehabilitated from that indie-movie-aping earnestness after his incredibly bold turn in Step Brothers. Here he is required to be in enormous emotional pain for the majority of the time, and it’s a credit to him that playing a completely shut-down shell of a man doesn’t mean he isn’t funny. His ability to mix up this world-weariness and emotional vulnerability with deadpan wit is essential to the success of the show. He’s Tim-from-The-Office, but even more pathetic. You weep for him in every episode.

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So, they’re a fantastic core group, but they’re not the only reason Party Down wins this award. Just as with 30 Rock and Arrested Development before them, this show manages to get some of the best character actors around to populate the secondary cast. In the first season we saw Ken Jeong, J.K. Simmons, Steven Weber, Marilu Henner, Joe Lo Truglio, Mather Zickel, Joey Lauren Adams, Molly Parker, Breckin Meyer, Rob Corddry, Rick Fox (as himself), George Takei (also as himself), not to mention — for the Veronica Mars fans out there — Kristin Bell, Enrico Colantoni, Daran “Cliff McCormack” Norris, Ed Begley Jr., Alona Tal and Jason Dohring. Matched up to the best sitcom scripts of the year, there was no way this show was going to fail. Even though I’m agnostic on the appeal of Megan Mullally (drafted in to replace Jane Lynch in season two), I have a strong feeling she will be magically transformed by this most glorious of shows.

Worst Cast of the Year: Parks and Recreation

I feel a little ill, because I’m about to criticise the casting of a show that has Amy Poehler in the lead role. Amy Poehler, who was the best thing about last year’s Baby Mama. Amy Poehler, who was one of the best things about SNL for the past few years. Amy Poehler, who was one of the three things in Southland Tales that was actually great and entertaining instead of desperately bad and misery-inducing (the other two things being The Rock and Wood Harris, with whom she shared her scenes). She makes me laugh pretty much every time I see her, but not here. In that case, I’m willing to assume she was just dealt a bad hand, and given a character who is unworkable. The only times Leslie Knope comes alive and becomes more than a badly formed lump of unrealistic character flaws is when she pines over Mark Brendanawicz, her selfish and unappealing colleague played by the talented Paul Schneider. Again, another talented actor playing an unlikeable and uninteresting character. Maybe I should rethink this category. Is it the cast, or the show, that I don’t like?

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Well, Aziz Ansari is in it. I’ll admit, I have not seen much of his work. He was in Funny People for a couple of minutes, and the effect he had on me was akin to having my soul Maced. Perhaps I’m wrong. This show seems to be underwritten and poorly thought through, which could account for it, but his turn as Tom Haverford is almost unwatchable. I’d say that’s more than just a glitch in the writing. The same goes for Nick Offerman as the Dwight-Schrute-esque Ron Swanson, a character that screams desperation from the writers but is not at all helped by Offerman’s flat performance. Both Haverford and Swanson seem like the kernel of a joke expanded to character-size without much thought given to whether these characters will work. As it is, they’re just belligerent. The less said about Aubrey Plaza and her pointless teenage character April Ludgate, the better. (See above for comments about affectless, oblivious characters like Ludgate and Casey from Party Down.)

Perhaps the thing I resent most is putting someone as funny as Chris Pratt opposite a comedy void like Rashida Jones. She was charming enough in The Office but wasn’t expected to be particularly funny. Here she is either a dope being manipulated by Pratt’s Andy, or she berates him, making her seem churlish and him seem like a victim, which he isn’t. Crappy couples on TV are not often fun to watch (ask any Lost fan who despairs whenever Jack and Kate get together). I’m more than willing to accept that a lot of these actors are far better in other roles. Hell, I’ve seen them be better. Pratt was hilarious in The O.C. as Che, and Paul Schneider was riveting in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. Perhaps I’m being way too harsh on these actors. Sadly, the bottom line is that, unlike The Office that came with only a couple of good characters, already based on archetypes from the UK series, and then built the supporting cast as they went along, Parks and Recreation started from scratch and got none of the characters right. Even a good cast would have trouble making this bunch of half-formed comedic scribbles come to life. In time, if it doesn’t get cancelled, perhaps this will change. Let me know when it does. Until then, I’ll stick with Community, Dan Harmon’s brilliant new sitcom, which recently started almost fully-formed and will hopefully keep getting better.

Best Guest Star of the Year: Jon Hamm - 30 Rock

For a little while, we were non-converts to the Cult of Hamm. He entertained us enough in Mad Men, but we had enough reservations about the first season that he didn’t really register in our consciousness, even after the Dick Whitman revelation gave Hamm the best acting opportunities. Perhaps we thought he was just a pretty face, and couldn’t imagine there was anything else in there. Canyon was also offended by his Brylcreemed hair. She deemed it unappealing. I wasn’t about to argue.

Then came the far superior second season, and sightings of his normal hair (adorably floppy), and then a turn on Saturday Night Live that was so confident and charming that I fully expect Hamm to eventually challenge the hosting records fought over by Christopher Walken, Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin. Dramatic excellence, perfect comic timing, a willingness to play off his image, and seriously, one of the handsomest faces on Earth; if he can sing and dance, he’s got it all. We are now members of the Cult. Wearing robes and everything. It’s proper infatuation.

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His three episode run as Dr. Drew Baird on 30 Rock was joyous. It was so good that the plot of his final episode, with him coming to realise that having everyone fawn over him all the time is something that doesn’t happen to anyone else, was even alluded to in the third season of Mad Men (reacting with bemusement when Sal points out that he doesn’t get hit on by flight attendants on every flight he takes, unlike Don, who is obviously spoilt for choice). Once Mad Men is over, Hamm can pretty much pick a direction. Not many actors get to achieve stardom and show both comedic and dramatic chops. Maybe he’s more like Dr. Drew than he realises.

Most Resurrected Character of the Year: Captain Jack Harkness - Torchwood: Children of Earth

I thought I always wanted Captain Jack’s immortality to be used more, as it’s a nifty little gimmick. I don’t think that any more.

Most Surprising Directorial Work of the Year: Akiva Goldsman on Kings and Fringe

Akiva Goldsman has done some awful things. His script for Batman and Robin is rightly reviled. He’s great at simplifying complex narratives and turning them into multiplex fodder (A Beautiful Mind, I, Robot). He’s the go-to guy for big movies based on crappy thrillers by bad writers (he’s adapted John Grisham and Dan Brown). When nerds hear his name, they sob with misery. “Why is this man so beloved of Hollywood?”, they shout. “It must be proof of its awfulness, along with the career of Michael Bay!” Of course, my own feelings about Bay are not so straight-down-the-line, and now, Goldsman has begun to win me over.

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All he had to do was build up his experience as a director by making two of the strongest hours of TV of the 2008-2009 season. His debut, on Kings‘ The Sabbath Queen, showed a talent for atmospherics and interesting visuals, pacing the episode beautifully and getting some good performances from even the weaker actors on the show. After that he wrote and directed Bad Dreams, one of the highlights of Fringe‘s first season. Again, the creepy atmosphere was beautifully judged, and the opening few minutes were hypnotically staged. Even better, the big finale was disturbing and tense, even as it played with some less than fresh ideas, and then we got a video clip of a young Olivia that wouldn’t have looked amiss in Hideo Nakata’s Ringu. If you’ll forgive me for cheating and ignoring my own rules, we’ve also seen his work on the first episode of the second season of Fringe, and again, it was very impressive. In time it’s obvious that he will be directing films too. I hope he finds some interesting material to work with, but even if not, I look forward to seeing what he will come up with.

Least Surprising Directorial Work of the Year: Greg Yaitanes on House and Lost

Shades of Caruso took against the TV (and occasional film) director Greg Yaitanes after some hilariously overwrought and showy work on shows such as Heroes and Drive, and we’ve yet to be convinced he deserves reappraisal. Last year he won an Emmy for his work on the first part of the House season finale, which would have been understandable when you take the logistics of the shoot into account, but is frustrating when Katie Jacobs’ work on the far more affecting final episode wasn’t even considered (and she’s listed as co-director of the Yaitanes episode too, but didn’t get a nomination). Since then, Yaitanes has been given a co-producer credit on House, and contributed numerous episodes to this season, including the shocking Simple Explanation, in which Kutner (Kal Penn) commits suicide offscreen.

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I will say this: the scene where Foreman and Thirteen discover the body was brilliantly done. Unfortunately, Yaitanes had a vision for this episode and went ahead with it. Everyone at Princeton Plainsboro is obviously very depressed about Kutner’s death, so Yaitanes lights the entire episode as if all the colour has been drained from the hospital. It’s an entirely grey hour of TV, just in case you didn’t get it from the performances or dialogue or sad music all over the place. To be honest, the episode Joy, directed by an unexpectedly off-colour Deran Serafian, featured the worst direction of the season, but Yaitanes was consistently bad here, and worse elsewhere.

You see, he also managed to infect my beloved Lost with his ridiculous film-cooties. I could talk about the flashy work he did on Heroes, but to be honest he’s the least of that show’s problems, so I don’t really mind if he stays on it. Lost, however, is a totally different matter. He had worked on the show before, in the first season, and as we started rewatching the show recently, I noticed he was kinda bad then too. That was when the show was in its infancy, and was still trying to find its tone, so his attention-seeking excesses were less obvious. By now, we all know what works and what doesn’t work within the very specific Lost world, which made Yaitanes’ excesses even more noticeable than usual. We know that Ben is creepy and Sayid is scary and intimidating, which are characteristics stressed by their very specific line-readings. In He’s Our You, we see a flashback to a face-off between the two characters, and both Michael Emerson and Naveen Andrews draw out their sentences to absurd lengths, with poorly edited pauses between each shot emphasising that they are both very methodical people who hate each other.

Lost usually treats these big moments with a sense of grandeur that works well, considering the unapologetically grandiose nature of the narrative, but this scene stepped over the line between epic and ridiculous. It made my favourite show seem like a parody of itself. I don’t even want to get into the awful “interrogation” scene later (included above), which was poorly written but even more poorly directed. What was Andrews doing here? It’s all over the place. The final scene with Sayid shooting young Ben was brilliant, but it was the only bright spot in a very disappointing hour of Lost. When you compare this horrible misinterpretation of the tone of the show to the consistently impressive work of star directors Jack Bender and Stephen Williams, it just looks amateurish. I keep hoping he’ll settle down, but the latest episode of House was directed by him, and as it was about a games programmer, most shots seemed to feature arms coming out of the side of the frame towards the person being observed, just like an FPS, so it might be a while before he realises less is more.

Best Shout-Out of the Year: House

Stephen Colbert is a huge fan of House, and it seems the feeling is mutual. (It’s the photo above his shoulder, obviously.)

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This is the only way Colbert is ever going to get on a Fox channel without being mischaracterised as a baby-eating Trotsky clone.

Intensity of the Year: Lance “Intensity” Reddick – Fringe

While Parks and Recreation fans, or Dexterites, or people with Unusual taste, might be mad at me for being a big meanie and saying such terrible things about their favourite shows, surely there can be no controversy here. No one else this year was so stern and scary and just fucking in charge.

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I suspect Lance “Intensity” Reddick can atomise titanium just by looking at it. As with Harry Lennix on Dollhouse, Reddick is pretty under-used on Fringe. Most of the time he is onscreen he’s taking the Fringe team to various crime scenes, or giving Olivia either a bollocking or a pep talk. This is not a good use of this man’s talents. He also showed up in Lost, as the sinister Matthew Abaddon, where he stopped being sinister just before getting shot and killed. Which sucked. I hope season two of Fringe sees him doing more entertaining stuff. I’d like him to shoot one of their ridiculous monsters (a part squid, part mushroom teenager hiding under carpets, for instance), or have more screen time with Blair Brown and Her Metallic Arm. If the Fringe showrunners don’t hurry up, he could well get very bored very soon. In this AV Club interview,  he says he wants to try his hand at comedy. (For the record, though he is seemingly never required to show it on TV, Mr. Reddick is fully capable of expressing amusement, and isn’t just a scarily intense man.)

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If he left Fringe to do that, you know I’d be checking it out.

And that’s it for this year. In the next few weeks, some new polls or something. Maybe some chatter about the London Film Festival (I got really carried away buying tickets the other week). Stay tuned, new readers. As you can see, I may not post as often as I would like, but when I do, I tend to post big.

Don Draper Watch: Juvenile Snickering Edition

While visiting family in the US, we made an effort to see the truly bizarre Step Brothers, a very funny movie that feels like it might be the final stage in the Ferrell/McKay/Reilly comedy experiment, so effectively did it stretch narrative logic and audience sympathy with its wilful disregard for the rules of storytelling, hewing close to them only to satirise them (at least, that’s how I saw it). It was not quite as good as we had hoped (though perhaps good enough to silence some crazy haters), and it’s already been eclipsed as comedy event of the year by the genre-bending brilliance of Pineapple Express (aka the American Hot Fuzz), but memories of it are still making us laugh; I’m still occasionally saying, “Boats and Hos” with no prompting. Plus, the finale, spoofing happy cinematic final act resolutions with Dada-esque rigour, was worth the ticket price alone, and it finally made us totally embrace Adam Scott (aka Palek The Vulcan Inseminatron from Tell Me You Love Me). His insane performance as Ferrell’s asshole brother is possibly the highpoint of the film.

After the film we conducted a post-mortem (punctuated by uncontrollable giggling over Richard Jenkins’ dinosaur impersonation), and realised we needed to rewatch both Anchorman and its “sequel” Wake Up Ron Burgundy for, like, the trillionth time. Due to complications in life (i.e. playing Half-Life 2 and Mario Kart Wii) we only managed it this weekend, and it was much fun. As we are that type of couple that enjoys randomly quoting films we love in out-of-context ways, Canyon has been shouting, “I’m gonna… rip the lid off of it!!!” ever since, and I’ve been saying of just about everything in the house, “It’s the pleats, it’s an optical illusion,” referring of course to Ron’s explanation for why he appears to have an enormous erection while talking to his soulmate Veronica Corningstone.


So why am I bringing this up now, and what has it got to do with Mad Men?


Holy Secret Beatnik Sympathies, I don’t think that’s attributable to the pleats. My God, Don’s packing! No wonder everyone defers to him. This sight totally distracted us for the next few minutes of screentime, which is probably a good thing as not long after that the recording went flooey and we missed the rest. Damn. I guess our modern machinery is no match for Don’s fearsome 60s-era genitalia. As for the rest of the episode, he amused us greatly with his weariness and existential ennui caused by too much booze and sex and not enough spiritual and aesthetic nourishment.


Poor guy. Truffaut! Hurry up and make Jules et Jim! We want Don back on top, and pronto.

Don Draper Is Back, Bitches!

Mad Men returned at the weekend, heralded with breathless articles proselytising about its genius, and interviews with Matthew Weiner treating him like he is the king of all everything ever (not blaming him for that, btw). As I am a sucker for hype, I found myself looking forward to the second season opener quite a lot. Canyon remains unconvinced of the show’s legendary brilliance still, and so do I, though I did end up enjoying it a lot more by the end of that season. There were some terrific moments (Don enacting revenge on Roger Sterling by making him eat all the oysters in New York before fooling him into walking up several storeys was vomity genius), and Pete Campbell is one of the best and most weaselly characters on TV right now, but the thing that meant the most to me was the move from focusing on the glaringly obvious comments on the different morals of the era, to concentrating on the characters and their relationships.


After the first episode we had learned that during the 60s, men were sexist pigs, women were oppressed and treated as chattel, homosexuals were closeted, white Americans were racist, and everyone was drinking and smoking way too much and ignoring the health risks. It was enlightening! And then the next six or so episodes did very little to move beyond these points. Thankfully, by the end of that season, the anvil-banging obviousness of the commentary faded into the background, leaving us with the psychological desolation of Betty, the lopsided rivalry between Don and Pete and subsequent destruction of the challenger, Don’s identity crisis, and Roger’s realisation of his mortality. The character stuff was worth waiting for, and by the end I had started to like the show. Plus, casting Robert Morse in a semi-recurring role was a stroke of genius.


Sadly, the season two opener was business as usual. Even though we have jumped forward two years, we found out little had changed at Sterling Cooper, except that Peggy is now an honorary Mad Man (and total beyotch to the typing pool thanks to her understandable insecurities), and Don can’t get it up now he has lost his access to his mistresses Rachel and Midge (well, Rachel was almost his mistress, but he sure wanted to get with her. Oh, and whats-his-name grew a beard. It was very exciting. The references to the mores of the time remain, but the clanging references to the theme of the episode are even less subtle now than they were last year. Every plot thread was about babies, old age, and youth, often with the crashing and gallumphing effect of someone driving a thumb-tack into a corkboard by firing an exploding elephant at it. It’s impossible to warm to the show when the writers (in this case, Weiner, who, according to this interesting interview, micromanages the show to the Nth degree) refuse to allow the viewer to spot these thematic threads on their own. Betty’s sexual frustration signalled by her sudden obsession with horse-riding a lot? I mean, come on. It’s getting all Marnie up in here (which is apt due to her Hitchcock-blonde appearance, but still).


Anyway, despite my misgivings, there were incidental pleasures that made the episode worthwhile. Peggy’s bitchiness and subsequent comeuppance at the hands of Joan and Lois, Pete’s muttered comment about chocolate prior to watching some sci fi show on TV (the only moment linked to the central theme that I enjoyed), several scenes featuring Don; there was some gold in there. Besides, with Big Love not around right now, this is all that qualifies as “quality acclaimed TV” at the moment. Especially as Tell Me You Love Me has been cancelled, which I’m thrilled and bummed about. Stupid show that makes me have conflicted feelings about its quality!

Of course, Mad Men also featured lots of great Don/Kenshiro Kasumi moments. As I suspected all along (as did anyone who noticed the repeated references to his impenetrable exterior and secretiveness), Don was indeed hiding something about himself, and though it turned out he was hiding the fact that he was a hobo-educated soldier who killed the real Don Draper, I still find that outrageous plot twist less compelling than the thought that inside his head is hiding a second personality that is as violent and dangerous as a man who can make your brain explode just by punching you in the correct spot. At several points during this season opener, this is the commentary I imagined running around behind that rumpled and handsome face of his:







It’s like a never-ending maelstrom of hate in there. Which event of the 60s will make him snap? And who will survive his inevitable bloody rampage?

Lost – There’s No Place Like Home (2)

Yes, my Lost obsession will not let me rest. Forgive my indulgence. Continuing my previous witterings about a show that finished weeks ago…

Reason 5: Awesome acting

Forgive me for banging on about it yet again, but I really believe the secret weapon of Lost is Foxy Matthew Fox, an actor who has improved leaps and bounds since the pilot. He’s lucky that his character is not the typical strong leader, but is in fact a guy with a fragile psyche, trying to be a leader not because he is the best person for the job but because the conch shell was handed to him early on and he’s so used to being the go-to guy that he’s accepted it even as he suspects it could be a bad idea. Whereas Locke and Ben both desperately want to be leaders, thinking that it is their destiny (which it might well be), Jack is repeatedly given the role of leader even though his doubt, paranoia, and self-hatred make him a terrible candidate.


This season saw him broken by the realisation that his belief in the benevolence of the Kahanians (for want of a better word) was naïve and deadly, that not only was his promise to the other islanders broken, but that perhaps he really wasn’t the leader after all. Jack has yet to figure out his place in the world, but even worse (and this is central to his continuing debate with Locke about faith), he doesn’t yet understand that the island is able to show him what he is meant to be. With Ben exiled from the island and Locke dead, perhaps Jack is next in line; I doubt Locke’s successor will be Sawyer, even though he is already on the island and thinks he is better than Jack, in much the same way cool cat and charmer Hawkeye used to bicker with straight-laced Captain America about who should be the leader of the Avengers.


Okay, that confuses matters, as Jack has only been crowned proxy leader by those around him, and not by the island. Maybe he has been a crappy leader so far because it has not yet been his time. Now it will come, when he gets back there. Shame he seems even closer to insanity than ever.


So yes, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the ever deepening desperation and existential terror of Jack, and think Foxy’s portrayal of that has been superb. Canyon remains sceptical, even after admitting (with maximum grudge), that Foxy gave the best performance in Speed Racer. His arc, which could well go from faux-confidence to psychic misery and then peace and acceptance of his role in life, is slowly becoming as fascinating as that of Locke and Ben. Whereas they are equally confident from an early stage that they are the Chosen One, Jack is just as likely to be the one who eventually adheres to the strictures of the Monomyth, though so far the showrunners have used his arc to display what can go wrong with that hero’s journey. In a classic version of the Monomyth, the hero returns to the world with a gift that can aid his fellow man, but Jack has returned to the world with nothing but his doubt. It helps no one. Except for shareholders in booze manufacturing companies.


Yes, Locke and Ben have had their moments of doubt, but they have been temporary, whereas Jack’s fears go right to the core of his soul. That’s one of the things I love most about Lost. While many viewers gave up on the show because the answers they sought were continually pushed to one side in order to focus on character evolution that seemed superfluous and dull, it seems that the fate of the world relies on Jack getting his shit together. He’s like a drunk and paranoid Moses ignoring the signs from God, and then leading his followers off the island but not knowing how to lead them back when it turns out he should have been paying more attention. Thankfully, Foxy is excellent at dramatising that. At least, that’s how I see it. Canyon maintains he’s just a whiny cry-baby bitch and his hair looks stupid. To each their own.

Sadly, it seems the Emmy judges agree with Canyon. According to Tom O’Neil of the LA Times, Foxy has failed to get onto the longlist for an Best Dramatic Actor Emmy, which is an egregious snub. Still, it’s not all bad news for Lost. In the Best Supporting Dramatic Actor category, Michael Emerson and Naveen Andrews both got nominations (though last year’s deserved winner, Terry O’Quinn, hasn’t), and Foxy did win a Saturn award for best actor, so the nerds have come around on him, at least (there were also wins for Emerson and Elizabeth Mitchell, all of which makes me very very happy).


I’ll get to Emerson later, but I am glad to see my hardcore Hero Of Teh Awesome awardwinner Sayid get some props. Naveen Andrews has complained in the past that he doesn’t get enough to sink his teeth into, but this season has been his to own. Not just by being a total and utter hardcore badass of the utmostest, but for having his emotions toyed with by fate to such an extent that he throws in his lot with the man he once saw as the devil. His battle between his darker impulses and yearning for peace were only touched upon in the finale, but still, he’s done enough excellent work this season to more than justify some award attention.


While Canyon and I cannot see eye to eye on the talents of Foxy, we do agree on many of the other great performances on the show. Yunjin Kim showed off some mad skills over the course of the finale. Sun’s intense grief over Jin’s broke our hearts, and her steely confidence and seeming ruthlessness in dealing with her father and Widmore were two of the most pleasing scenes. All of a sudden that seemingly inconsequential episode with Sun dealing with the blackmail of Jin’s mother appears to have been crucial in showing her inner steel. The thought that she might become an antagonist, trying to undermine Jack and Ben’s mission, is a thrilling one.


One thing that did irk me was the underuse of Michael, and of course what seems to be his death (though who knows what the arrival of Christian Shepherd means). I was thrilled he was back on the show, but having him die after what was pretty much an hour and a half of screentime during this season seemed completely wrong. I’m not the only one, if that interview with Harold Perrineau is anything to go by.


That said, he did semi-retract it later, either because his agent phoned him up and said, “NOOOOOO!”, or because there is a chance he will be back. See point 2 below for more on that possibility.

Cuselof seem to be as good as Joss Whedon at seeing the inner potential of actors, and playing up to it. At the start of the show there was little reason to believe Jorge Garcia and Josh Holloway would be able to show as much range as they have, something I’ve commented on before. The finale gave Garcia a real chance to shine, as we see how his experience on the island has made him doubt his own sanity, a heart-breaking consequence of what he has been through. His interactions with his family are edgy, his smile becoming a rare sight. It’s fair to say he’s not the comic relief any more. Hell, Locke and Ben are funnier now, though Foxy seems to disagree.


I think my heart broke a little during the flight to the Kahana, when Frank said they were a few hundred pounds too heavy to make it to their destination, and we got a quick shot of Hurley looking guilty. That no one else on the helicopter would blame him would never occur to him; just like everyone else there, his self-hatred consumes him.

Holloway had less to do here than most, which is annoying but understandable considering how he has become side-lined following his murder of Anthony Cooper, as well as more reserved and unhappy, though this could well change now he is the Alpha Male of the Oceanic survivors. I look forward to that, but here all we had to really enjoy was that heroic sacrifice, during which he was superdashing.


Also great was his increasingly panicked reaction to Claire’s disappearance. Still, I can imagine some hearts soared at the sight of our hott hero wandering around the island with a baby in his arms.


What a guy. He’s so goddamn hot that even Kate, seemingly still hooked on Jack, can’t help but melt when she sees Sawyer emerge unscathed from the forest. Evangeline Lilly sadly had very little to do this episode, but this reaction was perfect, a mixture of excitement, relief, lust, love, coquettishness, and, well, more lust, I guess.


Having spent a little time looking at this EW article about the Emmy shortlist, it seems most of the anger about the Lost snubs are related to the non-nominations for Yunjin Kim or Henry Ian Cusick, who was staggeringly good in The Constant. His finale featured some highly dramatic moments, including what looked like his death (though thankfully not).


His resurrection on the floaty raft got the biggest sigh of relief we have ever expelled upon seeing someone cough up a mouthful of water. Those bastard showrunners had to put us through the mill before we got what looked for a moment like a happy ending, as Desmond is finally reunited with his long-lost love Penny, and then proudly and happily introduces her to his fellow survivors. I have no shame in admitting there were tears shed.


Of course, this isn’t really a happy ending, as Ben is now gunning for Penny, but for now, it was perfect. Without knowing we were going to see darker days for the UK lovebirds, it seemed strange to be heading towards a reunion for them, but now it makes perfect sense, yet more proof that Cuselof are not idiots and know exactly what they are doing. It was also great to see Sonya Walger return, here playing the adorable Penny instead of being subjected to her Gupta-esque performance as Carolyn, whose behaviour was restricted to haranguing her husband and peeing on countless pregnancy tests for ten weeks on Tell Me You Love Me. Here is a picture of her with Kate. Just to increase the hits to this page, I would like to point out that, while blogging about the week in TV during the run of TMYLM, I commented on the number of times we got to see Sonya Walger’s boobs. We still get a couple of image hits a week with that term, and no, before you go looking for those images, there were no picture of boobs, merely shots of her entertaining facial reactions to getting bad news.


If you are so desperate to see Sonya Walger nude, internet surfing people, buy the HBO DVD. Hopefully you’ll indulge for the nudity and stay for the deepening character arcs and variable-though-mostly-excellent performances. And now I will stop trying to artificially bump up hits with these terms. Honest.

Reason 4: The quirky mystery

With much of the finale showing us how the Oceanic Six left the island, and what happened to the island once they were off it, much of the off-kilter weirdness of previous episodes was lacking, but even so, we still got some pleasing Dharma Initiative moments. More and more we are told that the Dharma Initiative is not central to the plot, and to make things worse, Cuselof insist that the show has nothing to do with time-travel (which makes my Sirens of Titan theory seem like a total failure). More on how their off-show comments relate to the relationship between the audience and the writers in a bit, but for now, if we take Ben at his word, the Orchid station orientation video (documenting the Dharma Initiative’s “silly experiments”) never actually says definitively that organic objects placed in the Vault will be displaced in time. The tape stops before that, and when Locke asks Ben what the tape was referring to, the former head Other’s response (“Time travelling bunnies”) is dismissive and sarcastic.

So what is the Vault? Were the Dharma scientists really moving rabbits through time? Considering that later in the episode Ben moves the island and is displaced in time and space by ten months and several thousand miles, it’s obvious the wheel chamber is a place of immense power, which could easily have leaked into the Vault. However, it could still be nothing more than another Skinner Box trick invented by the Initiative, testing the psychological responses of unwitting test subjects to bizarre criteria. The Vault could be nothing more than a big microwave that cannot handle metal.


Okay, so the presence of the wheel chamber definitively proves the existence of unnatural properties in that area. The only other possible proof (and this too could be subterfuge) is the existence of Dr. Marvin Candle and Dr. Mark Wickmund, one of whom could well be a time-displaced clone of the other, and as one of them has only one arm, perhaps he was the one to discover the negative effects of wearing a metallic watch in the Vault (this is purest conjecture, but makes some sense).

So what does this confusion tell us about the show? I’ve been mulling it over tonight, and I’m beginning to wonder if the Dharma Initiative have unwittingly tapped into the Magic Box aspect of the island that Ben once discussed. Perhaps the Vault and the numbers in Swan station started out as Skinner Box experiments, but the belief of the participants made them real. Maybe there was no magnet behind the wall, at least not until a test subject willed it into being. Same thing with the Vault. It could also explain the existence of the Pearl station. If the Dharma acolyte stationed in that station was monitoring the button-pressing activites of the Swan station inhabitants, perhaps his/her scepticism was what was really stopping the Swan anomaly from blowing up. It’s a battle of belief systems; the Swan operative’s belief in the imminent electromagnetic charge creates an electromagnetic charge, and the Pearl operative’s disbelief in it (triggered by the recording of the number-punching information) dispels the charge. Though, of course, that expansion of the theory relies on someone still being in Pearl after the Oceanic crash, and we know that’s not the case, so I’ll shut up now.

This power to manifest physical representations of the imagination would certainly explain why everyone is after it, which made me remember the quest at the centre of Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum, as various sects of conspiracy theory-believing cultists search in vain for the Navel of the World, a place of enormous power. In that book (this description from Philip Coppen’s Da Vinci Code website)…

the Knights [Templar discover] secret energy flows – telluric currents – during the Crusades. The currents’ mother lode is the so-called umbilicus mundi, or “navel of the world”. By placing a special valve in the umbilicus mundi, they will be able to control the currents, to disturb and interfere with life anywhere on Earth, with vast blackmailing possibilities against entire nations. However, they cannot utilize the currents due to insufficient technology.

A cabal of ancient warriors safeguarding a vast power and using it to manipulate the world? I’d say that sounds similar.

Okay, we’re not getting any answers to that big stuff any time prior to the sixth and final season, but what about the most pressing non-Orchid question of the finale; where did Juliet get her hair done? Here she is with wind-blown locks…


…and here she is with straight, styled hair just a little while later.


Is there a Dharma branch of Toni and Guy on the island?

And now I end this part of the finale pondering, to finish the rest at another time. Terrible though it is to drag this out even longer than I already have, I am currently using a computer so utterly useless and knackered that trying to make it do anything other than blink at me is futile. Once I am in front of a computer that is not begging to be thrown out of a tenth storey window onto an exploding bonfire, I shall complete this and put my Lost musings to bed until next year(ish). Apologies for the obsession.

Lost – The Constant

After finishing my post about Eggtown last week, I felt a bit bad about bitching about it, as I had managed to enjoy it even though it had not been perfect. I had considered editing it to make it a little less catty, and when I realised I had neglected to mention my biggest bugbear (that the shots of the Barracks featured no evidence of anyone other than our heroes living there even though Locke had managed to rustle up a convoy of panicky survivors to drink his Kool Aid), I figured I’d let it slide even though it irked me throughout.


Now that I’ve seen The Constant twice, I can safely say that the quality gulf between them was so large that I feel no further guilt, though to be honest that’s as much because The Constant was a series highlight as it is due to Eggtown being below par. The latest mind-bending time-travelling adventures of Desmond were as great as hoped, though not for the reasons I expected.

Of course, I still had my fill of the cool WTF stuff that I love so much. Possibly the most startling moment came when we saw Charles Widmore bidding on a Black Rock journal put up for auction by the hitherto unmentioned Tovard Hanso, but this is only really interesting to Lost nerds, and is probably only a set up for something later in the series. That’s if he shows up later. In my last Lost post I whined about Ken Leung disappearing from the show as he is signed to be in a play, but now it seems he’s not the only one. Will Alan Dale’s Grail quest ruin our show? If so, decorum prevents me from disclosing where I’m going to push that pram a lot.

So, it was cool to see Charles Widmore hunting down island memorabilia, and it was cool to see an episode that eschewed flashbacks altogether, with the show format replaced by a linear (to Desmond) narrative that just happened to move back and forth in time (though it’s arguable that that is what the show has always done, in a manner of speaking), and it was way cool to see the scope of the show expand a little further, with the panoramic first shots of the freighter looking just gorgeous.


However, the meat of the episode, the stuff that made it so special, was the temporary pay-off to the Desmond-Penny love story. This has been building up for a couple of years now, and hopefully it will come to an even more satisfying conclusion later (i.e. one that doesn’t involve any death, showrunners!!!!), but for now, this was exactly what we were after, and not just because Desmond never shuts up about her. Seriously, I’m amazed no one has thrown him into Room 23 for some serious reprogramming before now.

Desmond’s desperation might have been a little wearing in previous episodes, but this week Cuse and Lindelof cleverly made his search for Penny a life-or-death quest through time, his life depending on finding her both in the past and the present. His consciousness zipping back and forth between two versions of himself, he sought her out in an effort to keep his mind rooted in time, a condition brought on by what I assume is his exposure to the electromagnetic forces unleashed when the Swan station imploded. That said, was the time travelling side effect triggered by the helicopter leaving the path Faraday gave Frank?


It certainly seemed like the storm blew the helicopter off course, even if it was by a few degrees. If this is the case, and if this is the same heading given to Michael in the season two finale, perhaps everyone on the island is similarly affected and irradiated, and all the hatch implosion did was temporarily unmoor Desmond’s consciousness in Flashes Before Your Eyes. Perhaps all my conjecturising is futile, as it’s not like we got all the answers we wanted this week (which is just fine for the hardcore fans).

Of course it also meant a return for Sonya Walger. I’ve never been crazy about the character of Penny prior to this episode, but it was good to see Walger back in that role again, after her appearances in Tell Me You’re My Constant and Terminator: TSCC. In those she often comes off poorly, either as a baby-crazy beyhotch or second-best ladyfriend to someone still besotted with his soldier girl from the past, but here she got to be the spurned lover and the loyal soulmate hunting her true love across the planet. We’ve had hints of her proactive nature before now, so seeing her past fury at Desmond for deserting her was deeply unsettling at first.


As Desmond’s brain approached boiling point, he found his true love in 1996 with the help of her evil dad, improbably enough, and got her phone number, despite her fears that he would just use it to start phoning her immediately, which was the last thing pastPenny wanted after being spurned so nastily on the South Bank of the Thames. Telling her he would call her in eight years, she turfed him out of her expensive London pad, and he disconsolately walked away, heartbroken by her rejection of him and probably convinced she was not going to wait around for his call.


In every previous episode the flashbacks have followed a steady format, with whooshy music and a cut at the crescendo, but as this episode had linear flashbacks that were part of the plot, Desmond’s timehopping went unheralded by editing tricks. We saw his jumps become more frequent, until he was skipping back and forth, waiting on the phone in the present, walking away in the past. After turning away from Penny’s house he hops back from pastDesmond to 2004 to begin his call to Penny (thus making her prediction about his immediate calling come true, in a way), and in possibly the most poetic time travel moment since the final scene of The Terminator, future Desmond hears Penny pick up the phone, and in the past he realises that his terrible mistake in running away from Penny has been resolved.


Earlier tonight a colleague commented on how Lost is often misinterpreted as a clinical show with no real emotion behind it, and cited the season one finale with Sawyer telling Jack about his father as an example of how stupid that criticism is. That was a moving scene, and I’m sure if I had more time I could think of others. There’s never been anything like this moment before, though.


While the Jack-Kate-Sawyer-Juliet quadrangle has its charms, and while Sawyer’s longing has made me tear up before, Penny and Desmond’s ill-fated love has been the most “sappy” arc on the show, sometimes veering too close to Hallmark sentimentality to convince me on an emotional level. It’s a different story now. I have no idea where they’re going with this arc, and I fear the worst (why else give Desmond a final book to read, other than to copy John Updike?), but this incredible finale obliterated all of my doubt. I cried a bit when I first saw it, and watching it again yesterday I was a blubbering mess. As Desmond said, it was perfect. Well done, Darlton/Cuselof. Well done.


I had a moment of worry in the middle of the episode, though, as did Canyon, who groaned audibly when the concept of The Constant was introduced. Coming so soon after talk of lasers and consciousnesses traveling through time, it seemed awfully soppy one, and more than a little contrived. However, it did inspire a burst of fanwanking from myself (that it makes sense that the human mind can take control of its reaction to time travelling), and an observation from Canyon that in the end it doesn’t matter because it worked so beautifully within the episode and gave us some emotionally cathartic drama with Desmond’s large-scale goal (find Penny) reduced to a break-neck race to save himself (and don’t heartfelt old romantics often think that failure to pursue the object of their unrequited love is of more importance than anything else?).

I also like that as the scene cut back and forth between the two of them gabbling promises of love and fealty to each other, they finished on a moment of synchronicity, saying “I love you,” at the same time. Throughout the episode there were other dualities. It was only a few minutes ago that I noticed pastDesmond has short hair thanks to the dress code of the army, and futureFaraday also has short hair (though he retains his beard), whereas futureDesmond, naturally, has long crazy hair, as does pastFaraday. It’s all tonsorially topsy turvy!


Some of the characters have reflections or dopplegangers, though I’ll admit they’re a bit of a stretch. Juliet faced off against CS Lewis, snottily complaining about the rescuers’ treatment of the islanders, conjuring up some classic bitchface in the process (this is the most we’ve seen Juliet do so far this season, so I’m grateful to Darlton and show director Jack Bender for giving us this).


It got thrown right back at her by CS, who not only has the same brand of caustic sarcasm when affronted, but has similar hair and a similar build (though of course pretty much every woman on the island, bar Rose, is as skinny as a rake, so that’s not a surprise). Also, she’s awfully keen on Faraday keeping his secrets from the castaways, which is how Juliet behaved in season three, convincing Jack not to reveal their Otherkilling plan to Kate.


A new character, Keamy was introduced on the freighter (the name seemed potentially relevant, but the only vaguely Losty name I could find on the internet was this mime and massage chap who performs a work called Namaste). Played by a former comedian called Kevin Durand, he did nothing to suggest evil, but it poured off him anyway. He seriously creeped me out, even as he calmly stuck Desmond in the sick bay with easy platitudes and an imposing physical presence (i.e. he is enormous).


Meanwhile, Desmond’s consciousness was flashing back to his time in the army, being bellowed at by an imposing sergeant played by Graham McTavish, who was recently seen bellowing at everyone in earshot in Sylvester Stallone’s gizzard-shredding insane-athon Rambo. Typecast much?


Jack Bender also made sure to frame Desmond and Minkowski in a similar way, in order to draw attention to the similarity of their fates. While Minkowski is strapped down like this…


…Desmond is similarly “bound” by duty in the army, with the blanket echoing the straps on his fellow time traveller. Don’t forget, only fools are enslaved by time and space.


I was a little confused by some things, though. Did Minkowski lose his memory too, or was that just Desmond and Faraday? Has Faraday been time travelling too? It stands to reason considering he has been exposed to a lot of radiation and has travelled through the disturbance surrounding the island. Does Desmond’s appearance in the past mean his own memory has come back? It seemed likely, but again, it’s hard to theorise about this as we don’t have enough information yet. It also raises questions about Faraday’s motivations thus far. Were the coordinates he gave Frank correct? And why do I not trust CS Lewis and think she’s a bad egg? Perhaps the next episode will clear that up. I mean, clear it up as much as anything is cleared up on this show.

Further notes on this magnificent episode. If you’re going to travel by plane and are at risk of crashing on a magnetised island, be sure to pack a pocket Sayid. That guy can do just about anything.


Good to see Marc “Ecklie from CSI” Vann playing a shady doctor, though due to the lack of computing power I have no way to get screen captures and YouTube clips didn’t seem to find his presence worthy of inclusion in their library. So you’ll have to take my word for it.

My favourite echo of the episode was Faraday telling Desmond that he can’t change the future, which was the stern lesson given to him by Mrs. Hawking, Time Cop. At least this time no one got crushed by a building, Wicked Witch-style. I also liked Faraday bitching about the possible prank being played on him with, “Time paradox. How uninspiring.” Another instance of Darlton playing with the audience and their critics. That said, as delightful as I found that, I screeched in frustration as Penny, mid-phone call, began to explain how her search for Desmond had involved some research when a burst of static covered her explanation. You teasing bastards! I take back my earlier praise.

When Minkowski died from the brain aneurysm, was anyone else reminded of Mikhail’s “death” when he walked through the sonic fence? Will this death prove to be as temporary, or did they really cast Fisher Stevens just so they could kill him off straight away? Seems odd.


Or maybe it was punishment for playing the “comedy” Indian in the Short Circuit movies.


Not that he is entirely to blame, of course, but John Badham and Kenneth Johnson’s careers aren’t exactly in full bloom, and I’d like to think it’s karmic in nature. And if you think I’m misremembering the horror of his “Oh dearie dear!” performance, Short Circuit 2 was on Five just a few hours before Lost aired on Sky One, and we watched a bit of it, our faces slack with horror. And that one didn’t even have Ally “Best character in The Breakfast Club” Sheedy in it to make up for it! Pisspoor stuff.

When Desmond arrives in Oxford (nice of his time travelling to stop working during a long train journey from Glasgow), we see Faraday treating one of his students like total crap. For some reason that made me really happy, knowing that even a meek and put-upon physicist like him can be a pompous bully when necessary. I also noticed the campus for “Oxford” looks a lot like the monastery from Desmond’s previous flashback episode. Were they filmed in the same place?


Pink laser! A nod to PKD’s Valis, which I didn’t pick up at first.


Of course, Philip K Dick was once hit by a pink laser fired by God (or a sentient satellite) and gave him the information that saved his son’s life from a inguinal hernia. There are hints and tributes to Dick’s work throughout the series; that super-relevant intonation “Only fools are enslaved by time and space” is derived from a Buddhist text, but it is reminiscent of some of Dick’s writings. At least to me.

Loved the scary scene with the helicopter being buffeted by what looked like a bad storm on the way off the island. At last we see the rough ride we’ve been promised for so long.


The effects for this episode were supervised by Mitch Suskin, taking over from Kevin Blank, who appears to be working on other stuff following Blankscreen’s superb effects work on Cloverfield. A quick IMDb check shows Blank worked on Tsui Hark’s Legend of Zu, which is on my to-watch list. Cooler than that, Suskin worked on Predator and Poltergeist. In my capacity as an effects nerd, I am impressed.

Sad to see Sayid and Frank not getting on, especially with the bitchy comment from Frank about phoning Baghdad. Don’t be a dick, dude. That said, even though we’ve not spent much time with him, it seems in keeping with his character that he would be a bit of a reactionary ass about such things. So yay for fleshing Frank out realistically, but boo to the jerkiness. More Frank awesomeness soon, please.

Apologies if this sounds bitchy, but what was up with Desmond’s eye?


I really thought it was an effect of some sort, like a contact lens, to show that his brain was distorting due to the time travelling, but I don’t think it is. Perhaps I should look back on previous episodes and see if there’s anything else at play there.


It’s like Steve Bell’s cartoons of Tony Blair or something.


There’s no need for that.

Lost – Eggtown

I tell you, not having a computer at home has made this very difficult. My beloved screencaps, which I take so much pride over, have had to be taken from YouTube, so the quality is a bit poo, but then to be honest this was far from my favourite episode. I had great difficulty mustering much enthusiasm for it, not helped by guessing what the twist ending would be as soon as I saw Kate giving Aaron the stink eye when Claire suggested she hold the baby. That is what I hear is known as “foreshadowing”, which sounds like “flawshadowing”, a word that, according to the Shades of Caruso dictionary, means, “Pointing out that something is going to happen later in a story either with some shaky writing or a sledgehammer-subtle visual”. This is a genuine word. I didn’t just make it up.


It was an especially disappointing episode as it was co-written by the hugely talented Elizabeth Sarnoff, who has previously worked on Deadwood and some of Lost‘s best episodes, including The Man Behind The Curtain. However, she did also co-write Stranger in a Strange Land, possibly the worst episode of Lost ever, so let’s hope she only writes one of those a season and now Eggtown is out of the way we’re back to the usual superb standards.

Sarnoff worked with another writer this week, a chap called Greggory Nations, who previously worked on Nash Bridges and apparently wrote the Lost show bible, which must have been a frustrating and time-consuming experience. On the production side of things, we were treated to the return of Stephen Williams and Cort Fey, who last shot the incredible Confirmed Dead. That was a visual tour de force, but this week was comparatively restrained, either because of the nature of the script, or because the shooting schedule didn’t allow for more time to be expended on it.


This week was primarily about Kate bartering for information and freedom, either through trades or trickery. Hurley and Locke came off worst, with Miles and Ben doing fairly well with their own trade-off (Ben will give a tantalisingly exact amount of money to Miles so that he will keep his mouth shut, possibly by killing other characters, including C.S. Lewis). That theme was reflected in the title, which appparently referred to trading in the old West. That said, the definition was listed as fact on Lostpedia, and repeated around the blogosphere, but now it’s missing from the Lostpedia page altogether. This was what it said, as far as I can recall:

Egg-town is a pejorative term that refers to the days of bartering during the Great Depression. A traveling salesman would have to barter his candy or tobacco or shoelaces for different commodities. A poor exchange would be for eggs, a relatively common item that was also highly perishable. Nobody wanted to trade for eggs from a traveling salesman because they had their own, so the salesman who accepted an egg in exchange was forced to accept a bad deal. Salesmen would tell each other things like, “If I were you, I would stay away from Bogart. That’s an egg-town.” Of course, salesmen often didn’t trust each other, and it was likely that one salesman would lie to another about the quality of a town’s customers to keep them for himself. Invariably, the second salesman would venture into Bogart only to find it truly was an egg-town. He was either persuaded to not visit a town that had good customers or was tricked into visiting a town that could only offer eggs. The term “egg-town” represents a deal with undesirable outcomes in either case.

That they have taken it down makes it seem like it might not have been true, or was a joke. Detached from the possibly genuine meaning, calling a place an egg-town sounds fake, like saying, “You wouldn’t want to invest in that company. Those are pickle-juice stocks. They’ll just quack your portfolio into a zinc-box.” Of course, I could be wrong about this.

Whatever the meaning (many think it has to do with the eggs Locke brought Ben prior to killing the island’s last chicken — in which case, why wasn’t the episode called “The Last Chicken”?), it was a Kate-centric episode, and much as I don’t want to join in with the usual internet shrugging whenever the show concentrates on her, I often find it hard to give a damn about her and her woes. This has nothing to do with Evangeline Lilly, who I think is just fine in the part. However, she obviously has considerable charm and liveliness outside of her stinky Kate garb, as shown when she was interviewed by Letterman recently. Her tales of failing to travel to China due to oblivious disregard of international visa laws charmed his horrible white socks off, and us too. Why doesn’t she get a chance to shine like that in the show?

To be honest, there are only two times she interests me. Firstly as an action lady, kicking ass and taking names, as shown here in a murky screencap of her knocking the shit out of a padlock while Miles watches in bemusement behind her.


Secondly, as a member of the Kate-Jack-Juliet-Sawyer quadrangle of loaded looks and occasional lust. This aspect of the show has often annoyed fans, but I started to enjoy it in the third season, mostly because I love Sawyer and was happy to see him receive some attention from the islander of his dreams. I still get choked up during the scene when he nearly gets killed by Michael Bowen and she pleads for his life.


Another thing that damaged my potential affection for the character came early on, when we found out she was on the run from the law. It’s a horrible cliche in TV and film that if we’re going to side with a character who is a fugitive, they either have to be innocent, or guilty of one of the “lesser” crimes (car theft, or self-defence murder). A friend could never enjoy Con Air, as even though Cameron Poe killed a man defending his pregnant wife, it was still murder, and he couldn’t get past it. It doesn’t bother me anywhere near as much (and certainly didn’t affect my love for Con Air, which is a classic half-spoof/half-full-on actioner filled with flights of absurd genius), but it can be very obvious. In the first season, Kate was shown doing some incredibly stupid and reckless things, getting the love of her life killed and robbing a bank just to get a memento of him back, but her first crime was left unexplained. I suspected it would be something to do with killing someone who abused her, and it struck me as a reasonable way to have her be a fugitive but still be accepted.


However, it turned out to be a horrible cliche, and a total non-surprise, and smacked of a lack of imagination, as if her character hadn’t been fully thought through. Her flashbacks have been less revealing than anyone else’s, featuring only the odd cool moment (her “good dad” knew Sayid in Iraq!). This meant I was less than invested in her flash-forward, and if the big moment of the episode was the shocking reveal of her “adoption” of Aaron, then that got spoiled too, so we were totally onto a loser.


Even worse, the trial scenes were rushed through so fast that they were littered with illogicalities. Though I was glad to see Big Love‘s Shaun Doyle defending Kate, he seemed to get her off with some bizarre tactic that involved going on and on about being a hero. Never mind the fact that she was involved in at least two deaths and a bank robbery. Never mind that she spent years on the run. Never mind that the US Marshall escorting her died in the 815 crash (that really doesn’t sound at all dubious). She looked after a bunch of people on the island. And we only have Jack’s word for it! No testimony from Hurley or Sayid, though that might be because Hurley is in an institution and Sayid is hunting The Economist, and the sixth survivor (if Aaron counts as number five on that list) is hiding until the forthcoming reveal. Also, I didn’t like her hair during the trial. She looks better with it down. [/catty]


While watching it, we were incredulous that the prosecutor asked Jack if he loved Kate. Would that really be a question during a big murder trial? “Do you have noogy-oogy-boo-boo feelings for the defendent? Remember, you’re under oath!” It struck us as silly, but thinking about it now, knowing that apparently the prosecution only had one bit of proof up their sleeve (Kate’s mom’s testimony), and the defence only had one thing to exonerate Kate (Jack’s shifty testimony), I guess they really needed to crush him with some hardcore legal manoevering. Even so, it was a weirdly awkward moment in Lost history.


Good job Kate’s mom finally tried to revoke her Lost-Gupta status by changing her mind, although seemingly doing it so she could see Aaron was a bit of a screw-up. The character has long annoyed me. I might not like Kate’s backstory much, thinking it the least fleshed out of all the Lost characters still living (let’s not get into the Shannon/Boone stuff), but it did have that frisson of featuring some rare mother issues in a show so dominated by father issues. Sure, Kate had those too, but her mother was particularly nasty, so seeing her soften in this episode was a welcome change. Beth Broderick played the hell out of her short scene, showing a mixture of contrition, indignation and bemusement. Kate’s rejection of her was all the more affecting for it.


In the past few weeks I’ve tried to look at the visual choices made by the directors, but this week, as I mentioned before, was rather muted. That said, while going over the YouTube clips, I noticed a lot of third-person shots throughout Kate’s scenes. Sometimes it was subtle…


…and sometimes it took over the frame.


I guess it’s to do with Kate’s connection with those around her, especially the men in her life. For a lot of the episode she is trying to figure out if getting off the island is a good idea or not, and so is doing her own thing. She needs Sawyer’s help, but it’s her plan, and she gets what she wants, though perhaps she isn’t going to be too happy about what she finds out. Not to mention having to put up with Miles’s lame come-ons.


Nevertheless, while she’s seeking an answer to her questions, Jack in the future and Sawyer in the past try to (benevolently) impose themselves on her, and as such crowd her in the frame. She acts reluctant to let them in, but she is in the frame too, just to show her complicated feelings for the men.


In one scene, while she is alone in the frame, ostensibly visiting Sawyer to discuss the outcome of their plan to get Ben and Miles together, we can see her reflection in a mirror behind her, together on the bed with Sawyer. It’s as if we’re seeing what’s in the back of her mind (i.e., some sweet island sex with her hott bad boy).


Of course, by the end of the episode she pushed Sawyer away and leapt on his relief over her non-pregnancy so she had an excuse to leave (not to mention Locke banishing her from the Barracks in an echo of Juliet’s branding and shunning by the Others). Well, that’s one reading. The other is that she wanted to be with Sawyer, but on her own terms. Sadly, he didn’t see it that way. That certainly seems to be the case with Jack in the future, so obviously besotted with her but unable to do what she wants out of some unknown reticence over her adoption of Aaron. These hott men just won’t let her be herself, and she’s willing to be alone if necessary, and by the end of the show the only male sharing the frame with her is Aaron.


So, in retrospect, a frustrating episode, mostly treading water while setting up future episodes with Sun and Jin, showing Faraday suffering from a mysterious case of amnesia, and giving Ben something to do other than be tied up and sarcastic. I didn’t hate it (it’s an impossibility), but it didn’t fire my imagination the way Confirmed Dead or The Economist did. Oh well, I don’t expect every episode to be a masterpiece. It was still worthwhile, and Kate still had her good moments. For a start, she has finally removed the stinky clothes that have been dominating the screen every time she appears. Canyon was most pleased by that turnout. Also, she did get to be a badass (when the show started I often thought of her as Spock to Jack’s Kirk, but that didn’t work over time). I love that she is meant to be easily as tough (if not tougher) than the guys around her, and the most startling moment of the whole episode came as she reacted to Sawyer’s snide taunting with a vicious backhand that knocked him across the bed.


He made a few good points, even though he was being unnecessarily spiteful. To be honest, the show is definitely featuring much more violent behaviour from our heroes, and the internets are buzzing with talk that the castaways are now far worse than the Others ever were. If it’s not Hurley turning on his friends, Jack attempting to shoot Locke, everyone kicking Ben around as if he were a sneaky football, and Kate knocking Sawyer’s hair flying, it’s Locke turning into a pure psychopath by putting a grenade in Miles’s mouth, a WTF moment that is running the risk of being purely absurd.


Hopefully that grenade is fake; otherwise Locke is crossing a line. Of course, the news that Miles won’t be around in the last five episodes due to Ken Leung having other commitments makes me mad enough to look the other way on this. To quote Carlton Cuse:

We have one actor we very much need who is doing a play and another actor doing an HBO series. But we also have some opportunities. Nestor Carbonell, who played Richard Alpert last season, was on Cane. But now we’ll be able to use him. Another unforeseen advantage is that we’ll be able to respond to confusion the audience might have about the season so far.

Yay regarding Carbonell, but it sucks that Miles won’t be around. I totally understand Leung’s need to find work, though. This is mere frustration that this excellent character won’t be around. Rumour has it the other missing actor will be Sonya Walger, who will be off obsessing about babies on Tell Me You Are Available To Finish Filming Lost Please.

Anyway, I’m still freaked out by Locke’s utter craziness this week. I bet he killed the damn chicken out of fury. I’ll even bet he’d named the thing Ben, and tore its head off in frustration. To make things worse, Locke’s attitude to Miles’ predicament was obnoxiously blase. He pissed me off with his little ring flip.


Man, just because Ben is being particularly accurate with his little barbs of disdain doesn’t mean Locke can get away with being a jerk of this magnitude. That said, Ben sniffed at Locke bringing him a copy of PKD’s Valis, saying he had already read it. Dude! That’s a total masterpiece! It rewards further reading, and you should know that, you pouty douche. I’m conflicted!

Still, we get a break from the island violence and PKD-snubbing tonight, with the broadcast of The Constant. I saw a quick clip from it on YouTube while looking for these clips, and it looks like the most fascinating and headbending episode ever. Watch out for Minkowski’s first appearance. It will drive the internet wild with speculation and worry over Desmond’s fate, if it hasn’t already. Speaking of driving people wild, we very nearly had a wardrobe malfunction in Eggtown. Sawyer was being more open than usual while wooing Kate in his bedroom. If you know what I mean.


It’s at times like this that you really miss being able to get HD screencaps. I can imagine I just disappointed a lot of Sawyer fans with that crappy and frustrating image.

Sci-Fi Season Premiere Face/Off! (Terminator: TSCC)

Until the hopefully triumphant return of my favourite sci-fi TV show ever (and no, it’s not Sci-Fi Channel’s Flash Gordon), I’ve had to forgo experiencing that genre in a TV format. Well, I could have watched Stargate: Atlantis, but I have no love of either that show or its progenitor. I also could have watched Bionical Woman, and did for a while, but I just couldn’t face its relentless idiocy after the first few weeks. It really was a disaster from conception onwards, and I can’t imagine how even an infusion of talent could have made it work. As for Battlestar Galactica, all we’ve had since the silly season finale is the Razor TV movie, and we tried to watch it a couple of weeks ago but got so distracted by our cats jumping around trying to catch toy mice that we didn’t finish it. We will, though. I did get to see ace FX unit Zoic go mental with much wobbly-camera space destruction, and no one started singing Stuck Inside of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again, so I’m going back there soon, with bells on.

This week, though, saw the season premieres of two sci-fi shows, spinning off from other established concepts. Torchwood, the “adult” spin-off of BBC’s newly enwonderfulised Doctor Who, is now on its second season, attempting to prove that it has learned from the mistakes of the first season (which were legion). On Fox in the US, War of the Worlds screenwriter Josh Friedman has developed a non-James-Cameron-sanctioned spin-off from the first two Terminator movies, with the cumbersome title Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (or as Masticator and Masticatrix have abbreviated it, The Sarah Conicles). Chances are I will watch both until the end of the season, but which one am I excited about, and which one is a mistake? FACE/OFF TIME!


When I heard that the Terminator movies were being picked apart for scraps yet again, my heart sank. The first two movies are kind of perfect, and while I prefer the original (and remember my childhood adoration of it as clearly as if it were yesterday), I love that the second is more than just an action film. It’s a pacifist, pro-disarmament action movie containing lots of destruction and mayhem, and yet there is no contradiction between the two halves of its whole. Plus, it features Arnie’s one great performance. His scenes with Edward Furlong are superbly done, quiet and naturalistic and devoid of his usual distracting gurning. I often distrust director’s cuts, but the longer version of T2 meant we got to see more of those scenes, and they were all superb. James Cameron doesn’t get enough credit for getting that performance out of him.


T2 is a brilliant sequel, and the final shot is so wonderfully uplifting and moving and final, that when Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines came out, I was incensed. The story was so completely over that any resurrection of the franchise smacked of pure cynicism. Also, it came out at the wrong time; not close enough to keep up the momentum of the other films, and not far enough away that people would have a nostalgic wish to see more of that story (see also Ghostbusters 2, which came out five years after the original and did poorly at the box office). It did okay, but I was more concerned with its effect on the other two movies. Would it invalidate that wonderful finale, where Sarah and John go through hell in order to change the future?

Turns out it didn’t seem to care about that. Whereas in T2 the chronology and genesis of Cyberdyne, SkyNet, Miles Dyson and Judgement Day are all worked out rigorously, in T3 SkyNet comes back just because that shit is inevitable and that’s that. Perhaps I’m remembering it wrong, and if so someone correct me, but that’s the sum of it. It’s a horrible cheat after all of the work Cameron did on the first two. I get riled by badly thought-out time travel stories. I’ll grant that they’re incredibly hard to do, but they can be done right. Back to The Future 2, Primer, Gregory Benford’s Timescape; they do exist.


Other than that, T3 is visually flat (thanks for that, Jonathan Mostow), undercut with cringeworthy comedy moments, horribly designed, pointless, and cast in a distracting way (having Nick Stahl and Claire Danes running around firing guns was perhaps a bold choice, but a disastrous one for suspension of disbelief). That said, what an ending. It wasn’t quite worth all of the nasty scenes featuring plastic toy Hunter-Killers and T-1s to get to that, but still, kudos where necessary. It was very clever and quite affecting.


But why go back again? Surely the moment has more than passed, right? And wouldn’t continuing the story after T3 (apocalypse on a grand scale) cost billions of dollars? Ah, but there is always a way, and Josh Friedman came up with one. Set in a timeline separate from that of T3, and following on a couple of years after T2, Sarah Connor is still on the run from the FBI, having been accused of the murder of poor Miles Dyson. She’s also predictably plagued by dreams, which means we get an action blowout in the first scene, filled with apocalyptic imagery of Terminators and mushroom clouds, which is all borrowed from the films.


So it has got some strikes against it from the get-go; starting with a frigging dream sequence presented as reality, following the visual template of the films too slavishly, and recasting Sarah Connor with Lena Headey, an actress I’ve never been too keen on, and who committed one of the many crimes against acting perpetrated in 300, a film that, as I have said elsewhere in the past, is the worst acted mainstream movie I think I’ve ever seen. I really didn’t like the idea of casting her in such an iconic role, and was prepared to be very annoyed.

I was wrong, at least to a certain extent. In the middle of the scene (which, credit to director David Nutter, is exciting and well-edited), John gets shot in the back by the not-Arnie Terminator, and Sarah reacts by begging it to kill her too as she has no reason to live now her son is dead. Her reaction is believably overwrought, and I warmed to her quickly. During the episode she perhaps goes too far now and again, but over the course of the season perhaps she will get the tone right. I could also do with less of the voiceovers at the beginning and end, but that’s as much Friedman’s fault as hers.

It matters little. The opening worked brilliantly for one very important reason. Right there Friedman sets out her character elegantly, and from here I can imagine there are places to go with her. It’s not called The Sarah Connor Chronicles for no reason. The first movie was all about her, and the second took the focus off her a bit (by making her borderline insane) but it made sure to keep her as a major protagonist, and we got to follow her on her sad journey. The original concept was to have an ordinary woman transformed by circumstances beyond her control, and T2 took that to the logical conclusion. T3‘s major flaw was to get rid of her altogether, with the excuse that she had died of leukemia, off camera, which was an appallingly lazy and dismissive way to go about it. Here Friedman convinced me he was going to do right by her, and immediately the barriers of distrust fell. I knew there would be no Arnie, no huge battle scenes, and possibly no adherence to canon, but he was trying to do right by one of my favourite movie characters ever, and for that I was grateful.


Since we last saw her, she has become involved with an EMT tech called Charley, played by Dean Winters, who was so memorable as Liz Lemon’s feckless boyfriend Dennis in 30 Rock. Whereas there he was the worst partner ever, here he is besotted and devoted, proposing marriage to Sarah (in bed after just waking up, which is one of the few missteps and sillinesses of the episode). This freaks her out, and so she gathers up future saviour of mankind John and drags him out of there. John (played by Thomas Dekker, formerly the almost-gay friend of Claire Bennett in half a season of Heroes) is miffed, having bonded with Charley, and correctly blaming his mother’s commitment-phobia for her departure and not her paranoid belief that they will get caught, which is another bit of writing I liked.

Unfortunately for them both, Charley loves Sarah enough to report her disappearance to the police, and there just happens to be an FBI agent, James Ellison, hanging around with a ton of information about Sarah, now hiding under the alias Sarah Reese. It’s been pointed out on AICN that it may not be the best name to hide under, but is a touch that made me beam with nerd-glee, and a tantrum later on in the episode shows she’s keeping it out of an obsessive need to keep the name of her future lover alive, so it works. Ellison (played, so far, with some anonymity by Richard T. Lewis) tells Charley about Sarah’s crazy past (in a quick bit of exposition that doesn’t slow the show down too much), and even whips out a photo of Dyson. Note that he is not played by Brother From Another Planet Joe Morton, but by Phil “Jackie Chiles” Morris, thus keeping the Dyson-casting awesomeness going strong.


Cleverly, not only does this quick scene give a bunch of information about the first two movies and the events that have happened since, as well as setting up the relationships between all four of these characters, it allows Sarah’s identity to be compromised and placed in the FBI database, which is being monitored by a Terminator sleeper agent, who then goes on the rampage and chases our heroes. It’s not the best writing in the history of storytelling, but it is excellent exposition conveyed between characters who have been purposely kept in the dark as well as advancing the plot. I’ll be getting to an example of bad exposition in the next part of this Face/Off.

John and Sarah head off to a new town to try to avoid all of the guys trying to make Sarah fall in love with them, apparently, and while at school John ends up getting stalked by none other than River Tam, aka Summer Glau. Now, I’ve often thought of River as one of the weakest links in the Fireflyniverse, mostly because the one writing tic Whedon has that I don’t like is the crazy talking, which was passably funny with Drusilla, annoying with Buffy season 7 Spike, and just flat out horrible with River. For almost all of Glau’s time on that show she had to put up with a bunch of nonsensical and frustrating madness chatter that added up to very little. Only at the end of Serenity did I warm to her at all, but that was the end of that, sadly. Also, when on Angel, she was a spell-addled ghost-thing that had to talk with a Russian accent, so I had no idea what she could be like talking like a human. Weirdly, the first time you see her, even though you will probably already know she is a new kind of Terminator, she gives what might be her first approximation of a non-quirky humanity.


Her responses, such as laughing too hard at John’s lame jokes, are ever-so-slightly heightened. It works well, as if her emotional programming (which, I assume, is the thing that she hints makes her different from other Terminators) is not quite right, but it’s her curiousness and ability to evoke confusion that work best. She looks perpetually befuddled by things around her (other than combat situations), and while this is not a new concept, it’s pulled off with some charm. She’s pretty goddamn great in this, and I’m thrilled that Friedman had her cast in the role. Her physicality works well too, and she puts that to use in an early scene where an evil Terminator shows up at school and tries to kill John.


Herc, from AICN, has railed against this scene, but he neglects to mention the new habit of naming the Terminators. Glau plays Cameron, a weird nod to the creator of the Terminator franchise, considering he has nothing to do with it any more now that ex-wife Linda Hamilton has sold the rights to Andrew Vajna and Mario Kassar. Even stupider, the evil Terminator (played by Owain Yeoman) is called Cromartie. Is this because his endoskeleton is covered with chrome? In that case, is his actual name Marty?

Whatever. He reveals himself while trying to kill John (using a gun he had ickily hidden in his thigh, under his skin), at which point both he and Cameron start talking and moving like robots, which they didn’t do before. It looks stupid, but thankfully they also tend to throw each other around, demolish walls, get hit by cars, and take a bullet hit to the chest like a champ, which is what you want from a couple of Terminators. Cameron saves John using a truck (which has been done to death, but what else was she going to use?), and then says the second thing that made me drop my critical defences, and if you have seen the other movies, you know the line she says.


With a new robotic bodyguard in charge, John drives off to find his mom, who has turned up at the school to find him, instead encountering Cromartie (dang, that name never gets any less stupid), who kicks her around a bit. Realising he has no idea where John is, Sarah does the third thing I loved in this episode; pulls out a gun and tries to kill herself so that she can’t be used as leverage against her son. It’s a badass moment, all right.


Of course, she doesn’t get to go through with it, but Chromey talks to John on the phone, imitates Sarah using his cyber-throat, and gets him to go back to the house. Yes yes, just like in the movies. So not only has this show borrowed the format and look of the movies, but it’s reusing the old tricks. A strike against it, I thought, until John arrives at the house in a face-obscuring hoodie, only to get shot in the head by Chromey, and yet no! It was Cameron pretending to be John using her own cyber-throat to fool him! A nice touch. There follows a big fight scene with robots pushing each other through walls and floors, shotguns, a weapons cache hidden in a wall, electrification and, if the exposition a few scenes later is anything to be believed, a chair lined with kevlar just in case a Terminator shows up. A lot of viewers appear to have hated that, but I thought it was in keeping with Sarah’s way of thinking. Anyway, it’s a tight little scene, and quite thrilling.

After that we get some exposition between Sarah and Cameron as she gets to almost show some robo-boobies while pulling bullets out of her clavicle, and we find out that Skynet still gets built despite the events of T2. Pretty obvious, what with all the robots walking around, but whereas in T3 it’s not explained how the Air Force (who build Skynet after the destruction of Cyberdyne) develop the technology, and we had to just like it or lump it, here Cameron admits she doesn’t know how it happened, but as the episode rolls on, it becomes clear that the whole point of the show is finding out who builds Skynet. We’re going to spend the rest of the series finding out what’s going on, which is a far more promising approach.

Hopefully the real reason will not be a disappointment as in T3, though considering T3 seemed uninterested in a lot of what happened in the first two movies, this show earns many kudos for having Sarah take John and Cameron back to see Miles Dyson’s widow, where she reveals there is no way his work still exists anywhere in the world. It’s nice that they felt the need to revisit that character, especially as we get to see her sadness. Dyson’s death in the movie is already memorable, and it’s great to see that pathos carry forward into the series. Again, I am impressed. There then follows some more action, and the ‘splodey. Eat flame, you doucheinator!


At this point I was enjoying myself, but the next scenes feature a big plothole, with Sarah shot in the shoulder and getting maudlin over the possible loss of her son. I wonder if I watched the wrong version of this pilot, because the scene seems out of place, what with Sarah walking around next day as if nothing happened, and not having a wound on her arm at the end of the episode. Whatever is the reason, the scene serves very little purpose. We know she’s a badass who is good at dealing with pain and blood loss, and that she’s scared of John leaving her, though perhaps this is the first time she’s voiced the worry that he’ll just choose to leave instead of getting killed by a Terminator. Still, it’s the one bit of flab in the whole episode, and as such is annoying.

Also worrying me at this point was the feeling that the show was going to just be The Fugitive with robots, which works fine in a movie format, but has been overdone as a concept on TV. Though I liked this so far, would I eventually just get tired? How much could they do with the concept of the three saviours of mankind trying to destroy and electronics firm? Thankfully, Friedman must have had the same concerns, and throws an outrageous twist in right at the end. Cameron takes John and Sarah to a bank built in 1963, and stages a robbery that gets them into a vault tricked out with lots of sciencey stuff. There’s a gun that looks like a copper-wired, nuclear-powered tommy gun that kills Terminators, and a time machine made from 1960s parts that was built by someone sent back from the future by John Connor (we assume). It’s such a bizarre moment that the viewer can either go, “Screw this, I’m gonna watch American Gladiators instead,” or, “I’m sticking with this because that is some crazy shit!” I chose the latter option.


The show ends with our naked trio turning up in 2007, where they are assumed to be dead, on a search for Skynet, with Cameron learning about humanity, and John and Sarah dealing with the weirdness of the future (the second episode, which is also very good, shows John confused by the new technology that has sprung up in eight years, and Sarah learning about 9/11). Plus, Chromey is still running around despite his head getting blown off his robotic shoulders by Sarah’s tommy gun, James Ellison is looking for Sarah, and John is trying to reestablish contact with Charley even though he is now married to Lost and Tell Me You Love Me And Not The Mother Of The Saviour of All Mankind veteran, Sonya Walger, of all people. It’s a very very promising set-up.

It didn’t all work. Mostly the performances were okay, but it was touch and go every now and then. Thomas Dekker appears to be both less obnoxious and less likeable than Edward Furlong, and needs to stop with the frigging whining. One or two scenes were superfluous, some of the actors look a little unsure with the guns, the Terminators often seemed very stupid, and the dialogue was a little rough at times, but the homages to the original movies show an affection for them, which counts for a lot. For instance, the next episode also acknowledges Sarah’s cancer from T3 and weaves it into the plot, which is a great touch even though I hated that it ever happened in the first place. It’s not just following that format, though. So far the little quirks and twists display an urge to come up with new ideas, or to push the old ideas as far as they can go.

Plus, I loved the hints that Cameron is a different kind of Terminator whose behaviour, while still recognisably not human, has enough humanity to it to confuse poor hormonal John, who obviously has the hots for her. This is brilliantly shown in the second episode, where she touches him to assess his mental and physical state through an analysis of his body and sweat, and he interprets it as a sign of affection. all that and a soundtrack that has nods to Brad Feidel’s original iconic theme. It has real potential, and I can’t wait to see what happens next.

This Week In TV (Week 6)

As has been noted everywhere on the TV-watching net, the WGA called for a strike this week, but even though it’s only now begun, it’s been looming for so long now that the shows we’re watching now were made in full knowledge of the eventual disruption. I’m sure I’m not the only person who is not looking forward to week after week of ineptly written filler, as CSI and Ugly Betty showed. We’re big fans of both shows here at Shades of Caruso, but they were at their very worst.

Ugly Betty was especially bad, a rare mis-step for a show that is so often sheer joy to watch. From the frustratingly busy plotting (the on-again-off-again Henry and Betty love affair crammed in months of annoying back and forth into one episode, creating an apathy in us that otherwise would have only been a problem next year) to the truly obnoxious Wicked promotions (there is no way we’re going to see that crapfest now!), it was full of clunking failed moments. Only Marc and Wilhemina worked well this week, with the former treating the awesome Cliff horribly and the latter binge-eating. Of course, what starts out light turns sad by the end, and the scene with Marc being shunned by both his boyfriend and boss was heartbreaking. Every week it’s obvious that the decision to change Marc from mere comedy relief to proper 3-D character was a brilliant one, and Michael Urie was great throughout (as was a hilarious Vanessa Williams). So why am I placing a picture of America Ferrera here? Because her “Hero Worship” joke was adorable, of course.


Almost as bad was an ill-judged comedic CSI, involving the accidental death of a horror movie siren and the subsequent disastrously managed cover-up, though at least there wasn’t about twenty references to Wicked in it. There are always going to be jokey episodes of CSI, and we grin and bear them. Not so much because they aren’t very good, but mostly because the coating of wacky “comedy music” obscures everything. Gil’s little moues and expressions of annoyance are infinitely more amusing in the regular episodes than they are with comedy horns playing in the background, and if only the showrunners realised that, we could enjoy the experience more. This time around the only real enjoyment to be derived from the episode was watching new character Ronnie Lake (Jessica Lucas) play through and subvert horror movie conventions.


For the first thirty minutes those conventions were explained for the nuns in the audience in boring detail, including a bizarre scene showing lab tech Liz Vassey proudly show off her own appearance in a slasher movie. That paid off with a finale featuring Ronnie being similarly terrorised, for “real”. I issue a Dwight-Schrute-style demerit for the early comment on how low-cut tops are de rigeur for distressed horror damsels, included just so Jessica Lucas could run around exposing a Pushing-Daisies-esque cleavage for most of the episode. Gratuitous boobage is sometimes just gratuitous boobage, no matter how hard you try to legitimise it. In fact, the attempts at being post-modern made it seem creepier than it should. However, I take back that demerit because for the first time Ronnie was shown to be competent and level-headed in a crisis, which bodes well for future appearances. It also called back to the death of Holly Griggs from the first episode, and that tension was played on nicely. Sadly, there were too many annoying sub-characters in it for the episode to work properly.

Reaper was not anywhere near as bad as that, and offered much entertainment, especially with Ray Wise griping about Halloween holidays and Donovon Stinson as uptight boss Ted. It’s a horrible show cliche to have a tyrannical humourless boss, and this season we’ve already had one in Chuck and in Heroes (though thankfully Noah Bennett opened up a can of horn-rimmed whup-ass on him). Thankfully, Stinson has turned out to be Reaper’s secret weapon, slowly stealing scenes without drawing too much attention to himself. This week he flourished, with an excellent Captain Jack Sparrow costume followed by an eye-watering King Leonidas, complete with cape flourish.


Each week we love him a little more, especially the pissy conversations between him and Tyler Labine. That said, the problems with Reaper were never about the cast. Other than the wasted Missy Peregrym (who can still improve. I’m sure of it!), everyone is lovable and amusing. However, this week I realised what has been niggling at me about it for the last few weeks; it’s got a bad case of Futurama syndrome. I love that damn show, and was despondent when it got cancelled before its time (though of course I’m thrilled that it’s being disinterred as we speak), but way too often the show had a hilarious twelve minutes followed by a laugh-free second act that undid the good will generated in the first. To this day I cannot understand why this happens. Sadly, Reaper looks to be doing that as well. By the time of the final fifteen minutes, any energy generated at the start dissipates, and the episode grinds to a halt not long afterward. Perhaps we’re seeing some unpolished scripts going to air, in which case it’s rectifiable, but it’s been going on for a couple of weeks now, and it’s starting to annoy. I’m sure things will improve though. Ray Wise’s Grin of the Week give us confidence. It’s so reassuring!


So, do I still think Reaper is the best new show of the season? Until this week, no question. However, with my diagnosis hanging in the air, Pushing Daisies, aka Cleavage and Corpses, rushed right in and knocked me on my fat ass. This week was amazing. It still does a lot of things I dislike, and the narration rhymed badly this week (in a terrible Poe-style that grated terribly), but the arcs are moving faster than we ever expected, and the jokes came thick and fast, and the little details took on a life of their own (the candy-coloured morgue, which I’d not noticed before, made me chuckle). It was a huge triumph. Remember I said a few weeks ago that I might end up loving it eventually? If this week is anything to go by, it’ll be sooner rather than later. Even the effects sequences made us laugh out loud, they were so endearingly awful. Best of all, Emerson’s declaration of love to his shovel. Emerson + Shovel 4evah IDST!


While Pushing Daisies is moving faster than we thought it would (with plotlines such as Chuck and Olive’s antipathy towards each other paying off much earlier than we thought), Heroes has only just gotten around to introducing the big threat on the horizon. And yes, it’s a not very good special effect of New York deserted because of rampant superhuman disease! Okay, people are complaining that it’s a lot like last year’s exploding man plot, but this is a superhero tale, and New York is always in danger in Marvel comics. Asgard hovering over the city, Magneto destroying most of it after going insane, Hulk going on the rampage, the Civil War creating lots of off-panel destruction; this is just the way of things.

Okay, so in Marvel comics this stuff gets retconned very quickly (especially the Magneto thing, which apparently got swept up and ignored about two weeks later. Those New Yorkers sure are resilient). Heroes will doubtlessly not get to that point. Maybe there will be an anti-climatic fight scene in the quietest plaza in the city! The alternative (germy armageddon) would cause all sorts of logistical trouble, not least the amount of dreadful green screen work that will have to be done. Yes, the location budget of the show is still non-existent, so Peter and his Hoirhissshh girlfriend were ineptly pasted into a shot that made them look grey, shadowless, and strangely ill-proportioned, like they were humans standing in Hobbit New York. Unfortunately, whereas Pushing Daisies had the worst effects of the week in a funny way, Heroes‘ effects were less terrible but devoid of intentional comedy value. Please save the world so we don’t have to see that again! ::sigh:: It was so not good, again, but one thing worked really well. Noah Bennett is a hardcore murderous badass! And we should never forget it.


He totally killed that Russian guy in the head, with a deadly bullet. More tetchy murder, please!

House was also a teeny bit off, but only because it did something it’s not done before; invented a new affliction for the purposes of dramatising a conflict between the characters. Previously the show will exaggerate symptoms for dramatic effect (for more information check out the thoroughly excellent Polite Dissent), or rely on the old faithfuls of lupus, vasculitis, or respiratory failure, but this went an extra step, introducing someone (played by Robbie Krieger impersonator Frank Whaley) suffering from Giovannini’s Mirror Syndrome. According to the now super-dishonest show, sufferers have a lack of personality or inner life due to some other illness getting in the way, leading them to cast about for a replacement personality. This means they will mirror the people they interact with, something supergenius House used to uncover Whaley’s history (if you missed it, it involved getting infected during contact with cow shit) by becoming Whaley and setting up a feedback loop of Mirror Syndrome. Or something. Well, it made a kind of twisted sense on the show, and it let House flatten his high hair at last.


If all Giovannini’s sufferers did was mimic the other persons body language, it wouldn’t be so bad, but the writers thought it would be okay to make this illness equivalent to telepathy. Whaley’s character saw into people with such piercing insight he practically became them, which may have allowed for some very amusing moments, but pushed credibility too far. Perhaps if they’d called it Zelig’s Syndrome I might have appreciated it more. It’s a shame, because otherwise the show remained on top form, with the triumphant return of Foreman.

Canyon may not be a fan of any of the Cottages, but I always had a soft spot for Foreman. Now back at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital after a disastrous stint in New York, he’s exhibiting House-Hole Syndrome, which causes the victim to be an insufferable prick with the brain of a diagnostic computer from Star Trek. Omar Epps did a good job of making Foreman seem a little awkward with his pissiness, but I say embrace it. The show is doing very well with more Cottages, and the original team are much more fun being nasty now, so let Foreman go all out to be a jerk. Goshdarnit, if only I could get the writers to hear me. Maybe I should be handing out leaflets showing our URL to those guys and gals on the picket lines.


30 Rock was missing this week, causing immense sadness, but to make up for it The Office was directed by Joss Whedon, which is always a reason to celebrate. He did a great job again (his previous episode, with the bat, was one of season three’s highlights), with the bold choice to stage the big comedy setpiece off camera, with Michael and Dwight infiltrating another branch of Dunder Mifflin and communicating to Jim via walkie-talkie. The entire episode was similarly funny, but all I can remember of it days later is Dwight’s terrifying obsession with blinding any guard he comes into contact with. Sad that a lot of the cast wasn’t featured though, especially Kelly (Mindy Kaling did write the episode, though, and was predictably superb) and Creed (because Creed is an essential component of classic Office, of course).

Guess it’s time to admit something; we’ve fallen far behind with some shows, which will probably turn out to be a good thing when the strike starts to affect the amount of shows on (either I catch up with them or just go ahead and buy those Wire box sets I’ve been promising myself for so long). Right now we’re behind on Journeyman, Chuck, Mad Men, Dexter, and Dirty Sexy Money, which I just couldn’t face (though I will). Why should I be making an effort on shows that obviously haven’t grabbed me enough to compel me to watch them immediately? Because we both once thought Tell Me You Choo-Choo-Choose Me was risible, and now we’re beyond hooked (well okay, Canyon less so). This post is a couple of days late, and as a result we’ve watched the ninth episode as well, and both of them have continued the upward quality trend that has surprised the heck out of us. Sitting through the tedious and annoying first half of the season has really paid off. Of course, I’m not saying that Dirty Sexy Money or Bionical Woman will suddenly improve enough to justify the current risible status, which would surely be a task even Hercules would baulk at, but you never know.

As with Pushing Daisies, it still suffers from a lot of the stylistic touches that annoyed us at the beginning, though we realise the showrunners can’t just drastically change course on these things in mid flow. At its worst, though, it retains that obnoxious self-satisfaction that makes me hate so much independent cinema. We’re never getting away from that. Plus, now that Palek and Carolyn have moved out of their Icy Palace of Lovelessness there are no more cameos by the Predator living outside. I miss Petey the Predator (yes, in earlier episodes I was bored enough to add a bunch of sci-fi references to make it all go faster).


What it has done, though, is spend so much time adding layers of complexity to the characters that the dreary, lightly sketched stereotypes of the first few episodes now live and breathe. Just like they are real people in therapy, we begin to see all of the problems they had at the start of the season are the product of experiences in the past or fears in the present, and this filling in the blanks has been going on quietly while many viewers would focus on the many many many shots of Michelle Borth’s boobs and Ian Somerhalder’s balls. All of the miserable whining from weeks ago now seems like cleverly layered set ups for end-season fireworks, and we got some this week.

When I say fireworks I don’t mean actual big drama, but the small events we got, in the context of the character’s lives, were enormous. Dave and Katy having second thoughts about their marriage, Jamie realising she’s going to be a slutty lush just like her odious, toxic friend Mason, and biggest of all, Palek having a panic attack and dumping Carolyn during therapy. All of these things seem like the meat and bones of a soap opera, but that stuff happens so often and for so little reason it doesn’t have any effect. With Tell Me You Were Secretly Awesome All Along, we’ve been waiting so long and spent so much time with them all that it was significantly more dramatic. The final scene with Carolyn going from epic shrew to heartbroken dumpee was riveting. Similarly, Dave and Katy’s growing realisation that there might be something unfixable in their marriage was difficult to watch. They’re both so adorable, but perhaps those crazy kids just can’t work it out. ((((Dave and Katy))))

All that said, will another season really work? I’d like to keep watching, but I’m not sure what else can happen here without the show becoming a straight soap. Keith Phipps on the AV Club hinted that next season will focus on different relationships, and that would work, I guess, but I’d miss these guys, even after all of the complaining I’ve done. Maybe the focus will fall on Sherry Stringfield, Kate Towne, and Jeremy London’s characters (and their prominent genitals), all of whom have been hanging around in the periphery. If that were the case, this season’s main characters would still be around to show us tantalising glimpses of the fallout from the season finale, though probably significantly less naughty body parts. I’m not kidding about the body parts. I’ve seen enough of Boone’s heaving buttocks for this and the next seven lifetimes.


One character I definitely hope comes back is Rosalind Chao as Carolyn’s boss. What a badass bitch! She is so awesome. I always liked her on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, so seeing her still getting work (for a little while as the principal in The O.C.) is always a good thing, but in this show we only got about three minutes of her over the last three episodes. But what a great three minutes. The catty exchanges between her and Carolyn were horrifying to behold, especially the first one, with Carolyn asking for a promotion and being denied. All of this is done with enormous tension between them, but still maintaining a veneer of professionalism, until Carolyn gets to the door and mutters, “Fucking bitch,” to which Chao responds, “I heard that.” GAH! It made both of us cringe for an hour, mostly because we have paranoid fear about making horrible gaffes at work. This week Carolyn quit by refusing to do any work and then walking out during a meeting, which was a pleasingly insane thing for her to have done, but I’m amazed she hadn’t been fired already. Or sent for counseling. She’s obviously having a nervous breakdown.

However, as great as that was, and as funny as Pushing Daisies turned out to be, highlight of our week was a barnstorming Friday Night Lights, confidently pushing aside previous concerns and criticisms like William “The Refrigerator” Perry used to knock down running backs in the 80s. Without any effort, it ran our emotions up and down for 45 minutes, a perfect example of what TV should be.


Coach and Tami’s marital problems provided a light A-plot, but in the background there was hardship for almost everyone. Matt telling Julie he doesn’t want her back was as satisfying as Tyra telling Landry she was repulsed by him was horrifying, but the masterstroke was having both of those things happen at the same time, i.e. during the aftermath of their football triumph. The shot of them walking back into the diner, surrounded by cheering fans, with heartbreak sketched on their faces, was one of the most resonant moments of the entire series. Everyone involved gave 110%, acting-wise. Erm, did I just succumb to the temptation to resort to a sporting cliche in an FNL review? Oh teh noes!

Even more entertaining was goody-two shoes Lila in Mexico, nagging at Street and Riggins during their intervention to try to stop their injured friend have shark DNA pumped into his spine. The plot seemed to have annoyed fans for being too unbelievable, but it always seemed reasonable to me, knowing it would pay off well (look at that for faith in a showrunning team). And pay off it did, with Street hurling himself into the ocean and sinking to the bottom while his friends panic. I’m not totally sure what his motivation was, and the look on his face as he floated near the sea floor was ambiguous, but that uncertainty powered the scene and made you genuinely believe one of the main characters was about to die.

His “rebirth” was subsequently all the more moving, but the best moment came during the final Jules et Jim scene, with Lila foolishly getting drunk and being rather less Christian than usual, woozily dancing with both men, kissing on them both with some considerably lusty abandon, and then guiltily saying, “I gotta go pray.” Even in the face of Emerson’s shovel love and Dwight’s desperate blinding pleas, this was the line of the week.


If I have any criticism with it, it’s a very small one, but hopefully something that will be rectified soon. Smash was one of my favourite characters in the first season, but so far this year he’s had very little to do other than be a jerk to Matt, which is nothing new. He had actually grown a bit as the first season went on, and I’d hoped that could continue. There was some good stuff between him and Matt (and an especially good scene having some of Coach’s chili), but he’s being underused, though that might just be because the show is loaded with plot right now and there’s not really any room for anything else yet.


Next week, the return of 30 Rock with an appearance by Al Gore, if TV Guide is to be believed (yay!), Bionical Woman (retch), and probably many more rushed scripts that will be filled with empty dialogue, clumsy exposition, and continuity-shaking errors. Join us! [/Alan Partridge]