I read all of the books in the series before the show premiered. After a couple of episodes, I was done with the show. The thought of repeating all of that horror and misery, only on the screen instead of the page, didn't seem worth it, production values be damned. Some months later, I happened to walk into a room where someone was watching one of the last episodes of the first season. It was a scene where Tywin Lannister sermonises to Jaime while butchering an animal. It was a scene not taken directly from the books, but made whole cloth for the TV show. I was mesmerised, and suddenly, all on board again.
To me, the appeal of Game of Thrones has never been in the way it brings the books alive, but in how it diverges. It's been in the way it's emphasised, through performance, the humanity of its characters (both for ill and good), thus giving me something I never got from Martin's writing. Where some have lamented the direction the show has taken since it started outpacing the source material, I've actually grown fonder of it. The farther away it's gotten from the cutting of those adaptational apron strings, the more I feel like it's grown into its own thing.
So, while I don't doubt that the remaining episodes of this final season will break my heart in lots of ways – and George R.R. Martin will find several more when he gets around to telling the "real" version of the same story – I thoroughly appreciate that Game of Thrones is the kind of the show that knows the importance of showing people coming together, huddling for warmth in the face of impending doom. I could still feel the claw in my gut, of the horror to come, but I'm glad that's not all the show is about.
I'm fully in love with the way this show lets its characters fail in front of each other, the way characters call each other out for wrong-ass behaviour, the way forgive and reconcile... folks seeing each other, showing each other kindness. Even though it's paper-thin in some areas, the areas in which Ted Lasso are trying the hardest to succeed (humour through character and empathy, mainly), it's just f*ing **excelling. Also: Hannah Waddington is just ridiculously good in this episode. I know I've seen her in several things over the years, but I hadn't quite noticed how great she is at the acting until this role.
Gosh, that end-credit scene was beautiful (and not just because Marc Evan Jackson with a beard is apparently hot as h*ck).
"Also, Jake, Following is Christopher Nolan's first movie. You sound like a grade A [BLEEP]-hole out here" is just such a stellar joke in every way. The phrasing (tacking the "out here" at the end might be what really makes it fly); the surprise of Pimento momentarily sidestepping his ever-present weirdness to correct Jake; Mantzoukas' straight-faced delivery; the cut to Samberg's perfectly poleaxed reaction. I can't recall the last time I laughed this hard at a pop-culture reference joke.
I don't think the show ever quite followed through on anything with the Jessica Russo character (the rumblings of bad cop-pery at the tail end of last season never came to fruition in any meaningful way), and in the end, her Rookie days seem to be petering out in a very cliched, recurring-girlfriend-arc kind of way. None of that was on Sarah Shahi, who, as per usual, did her best with anything the show threw at her, whether that was a little or a lot. However much Russo's story this episode frustrated me, it's hard to deny what Shahi did in her (apparent) sendoff. Her last two scenes in particular, in the hospital and in Nolan's house, were beautiful and heartbreaking, with a depth of feeling to her performance that pretty much deflated my annoyance. Sad to see her go, hope to see her land somewhere more mindful of her skill.
In a show just chock full of devastating observational details and grace notes, I think the one that hit me the hardest was the way Connell argues when faced with the utterly justified ire of Marianne and his mother. He has no idea how to react, nor how to process their reactions in the moment, and so he retreats to this eminently sensible tone. Even when what he's actually saying is complete nonsense, he still clings to that mask of maturity, of being the reasonable one. It's just perfectly written, and incredibly played by Paul Mescal.
Also, Lorraine is the f**king best.
I'm worried about this show falling deeper and deeper into the competency trap with regards to John Nolan. By the end of last season, there was the sense that the producers/writers was more concerned with making Nathan Fillion look good than exploring the vulnerable position of this middle-aged man trying to reinvent himself in a training program made for folks twenty years his junior. Because of the unfortunate exit from the show of Afton Williamson, the actor playing his training officer, that trend has seemed even more pronounced in the first couple of episodes of this new season. The show hasn't addressed Nolan's lack of a T.O. at all, instead making it seem like he doesn't actually need one. Showing folks being good at their jobs is a big part of why the procedural is such a compelling format for TV drama, but I think The Rookie is failing to exploit the possibilities of its own concept by letting John Nolan be right and good and special all of the time.
I like to think of myself as having cognitive functions that generally work okay, but I have to admit that I've been thoroughly stumped by the relative chronology of these last three episodes. Did the two Holiday episodes exist in an alternate universe? Did they time skip ahead? If so, why did the time skip back for this episode? Were the Holiday episodes, in fact, a dream? I know Good Trouble has been doing funky things with chronology since the very beginning, but that's generally been within the confines of single episodes. Someone please explain this thing to me, because apparently I'm too dense to grok what's happened here.
Still making my mind up about the adaptation overall, but one moment in this episode did make me sit up and take notice in a big way: Reacher is dancing with Roscoe at the roadhouse, they lean closer together, their foreheads touching. We see the deputy relaxing, and a beat later, Reacher does the same, his eyes closing, peace settling across his face. It's a subtle grace note that had been missing from Alan Ritchson's performance up to this point, and I was relieved to see it. To say nothing of how heartening it was to see the creative team be this willing to show vulnerability and surrender in their big-ass superhuman male lead.
My headcanon is that James Horncastle was the direct inspiration for Trent Crimm, and no-one's going to convince me otherwise.
Finally. The start of the season felt (understandably) marred by the premature departure of a regular cast member in Afton Williamson, but the arrival of her replacement felt like a major step back on track. Aside from the ridiculous climactic shootout – which felt way OTT, even compared to the more full-bore action sequences the show has done previously – every part of the show felt like it was clicking again. Also, props to the producers for hiring an actual disabled person to, er, play the role of a disabled person; Margo Gignac's performance was top notch. In their scenes together, she brought something out of Alyssa Diaz I can't recall having seen before.
One of the best second episodes of any network drama I've ever seen. Was a bit sceptical after the pilot, but now I'm fully aboard. Also, it makes me very happy that this crew, who's had to pretend like New York was Chicago for over a decade, now has the freedom that goes with shooting a show that's actually set in the city where it's produced.
Peak TV is truly scaling some ridiculous new heights, when a production like this one is barely talked about. Five years ago, this exploitation-tastic, truly diverse genre hybrid would have been the talk of the field. Today, it's just slowly asphyxiating in a base camp clogged with fifty other shows that all have some USP that would have made them all groundbreaking before this frenzied rush to the top started. Nowadays, unless you're some already established property, you have to be on Netflix to have even a sliver of hope of making it, and even then, nothing's guaranteed. There's so much to recommend Warrior, and I'm sure I'm going to have a great time watching it, but it's hard not to despair a little when all this good-to-great work from all these amazing people might never get the attention it deserves.
I just don't know about She-Ra, to be honest. There's a real maturity and warmth to the characterisation that's more or less at odds with the shallow, flighty nature of its plotting. The former creates expectations that the latter is constantly dashing, making for a very frustrating watch. There's so much to appreciate about its diversity, its performances, its design, its worldbuilding, its representation, but most of the time, those aspects just makes me wish the rest of the show was more worthy of them.
Okay, ratings are arbitrary and silly, and the way I use them are even more arbitrary and silly because I don't care about using them relatively, but: I feel weird about giving the first episode of a show a 10. Though when I watched this, I felt in a near-constant state of awe at the direction and editing. I don't think I've ever seen an episode of anything animated that has operated at this level when it comes to the way it selects, frames and times its reaction shots and wordless character moments. I guess most of this is just me being an anime neophyte, but if the rest of the show is at this level, I can see why it's so revered.
The scene at the end, where Adora wakes up, and Glimmer stretches out her hand to reassure her ("right here, Adora") nearly broke my heart. While I didn't really care for the episode that much in general, touches like that are why I'm still watching even if I'm not completely on board.
On the one hand, Holt and Santiago geeking out together, and Rosa being utterly aghast at it all, with some zany-Terry-ness sprinkled in, is pretty much all I could ask for in a B-plot. On the other hand, the A-story was pretty much a perfect storm of stuff that are emphatically Not For Me: great heapings of Boyle, foreign caricatures (arguably the one and only constant bum note of the Mike Schur comedy-verse), and also Ike Barinholtz. I guess I'll just have to count my blessings that one of my least favourite episodes of the show ever still had so much to love.
On the one hand, it feels like the show is getting a bit high on itself with the whole "violence is righteous and good when done by righteous people" thing, and that iffy sensation is kinda leeching away a lot of the fun of the action sequences – and the show in general – for me. On the other hand, Maria Sten's performance is pitch perfect and cool as hell, enough so that I guess I can put up with the rest of the bullshit if it means I get so see more of her Frances Neagley.
I know I'm harping on about this for the second week in a row, but I'm hoping the show figures its cast logistics out soon. If every episode this season is going to boil down to Nolan on his own, getting it done like a lone wolf hero cop, it's going to get tired. Losing a main cast member probably threw all kinds of wrenches in the writers' plans, but this solution is not it, bruv. The rest of the show is as good as it's ever been, but Nolan without a regular foil is throwing the balance all out of whack.
For some reason or another, tonight I found myself watching Youtube clips of Timothy Olyphant on talk shows. Which made me crave a little Justified rewatch. Now, Olyphant has this line he like to trot out when he's talking about his work, about how acting is the easiest thing in the world, he just shows up to work, says what they tell him to say, stand where they tell him to stand. I don't think he's being serious at all, I suspect he might even be taking the piss out of the kind of false modesty some people like to peddle in similar circumstances. Regardless, the absurdity of the line becomes glaring when you watch the man work. Whether it's the more ridiculous comedic stylings of a Santa Clarita Diet or The Grinder, or the kind of roles he's more closely associated with, like Deadwood or this one, it soon becomes apparent that if this is a man just coasting by – saying the lines, standing where he's told to – then he's been blessed with the most abundant natural ability the profession has ever seen.
I have an exceedingly bad self image. If I ever decide to do something about that, "I'm a legit snack" is going to be the mantra I repeat to myself to convince me of how attractive I am.
There are a couple of composite effects shots in this episode that took my breath away: the stormy view across the river to old New York as Marian and Peggy are about to board the ferry, and the aerial establishing tracking shot of the Fish summer house in the Hamptons. The staging and direction of both were impressive to me, underlining the otherness of this should-be-familiar setting. Weirdly, I think one of the main reasons why these shots managed to convey that vibe was the almost-but-not-quite way in which the visual effects failed to escape the uncanny valley. These computer generated tableaux (that aren't supposed to register as special effects at all) are getting so very close to passing for the real thing, but the liminal territory they inhabit is still ever so slightly unsettling to take in. In this case, that little jolt of alienation just contributed to the spectacle for me, so I guess mission accomplished for the digital artists, inadvertently or not. Hopefully, the production didn't blow its entire effects budget on these two shots, because I'd love to see what the vfx producers (Prashant Agrawal and Mitch Campbell) and their team(s) can do with this material if they're allowed to keep developing it over time.
I'm sorry, I just can't get on board with the whole "he died because he endangered himself running after her because she got mad at him for not showing up even though he didn't show because he collapsed" conceit. It cheapens and diminishes an episode that's otherwise beautifully executed in every way. I really wish the writers could have devised a way to get to the same place without making Hughes basically culpable in the death of her boyfriend.
Wow, okay. This show might be perfect. Why the h*ck wouldn't Netflix want to keep making this utterly perfect thing. I mean, there's money, but honestly, who could be part of making something so powerful as this episode and not want to do everything in their power to keep the show going, if not for anything else, than for pride?
These big, all-out emergency episodes is one of The Rookie's strengths, and "Free Fall" was no exception. I do wish the writers would err slightly more on the side of caution when it comes to Nolan's agency. In this episode, particularly, I felt like he was the one piping up with the most helpful suggestion, or taking charge in group discussions, a bit too often. I know Nathan Fillion is the big star of the show, but with the way the show's been written so far, I feel like he really should have been smacked down for talking out of turn more than he actually was in this episode.
Well, I was going to write something incredibly astute about this episode's warm and insightful take on difficult, life-altering conversations between spouses, but then the end credits rolled around, and I was so happy to finally hear Nick Offerman say "Fremulon" again, I'm not able to think about anything else. Sorry.
You know you're too much of a film nerd when the switch to a wider aspect ratio between seasons makes you slightly uncomfortable. Thankfully, The Good Fight is still The Good Fight.
I think this is the first time I've seen a science fiction anthology have this light-hearted and optimistic a slant to its satire. My impulse is to throw some shade at this first episode feeling inconsequential as a result, but you know what? No. I'm just going to appreciate this thoroughly nice little story about two people finding and choosing each other. Just because every other Future Shock style story is relentlessly bleak and/or cynical, it doesn't mean Weird City has to be.
I'm part of the problem, I admit it. I watched the first season when it came out, loved it, but for some reason or another, I didn't get back to the second season when that launched. Nor the third. And then it got cancelled. My views probably wouldn't have made any kind of difference, but still. Watching this episode now, first the incredibly cheap and super heartwarming West Side Story reference, and then the incredibly emotional scene around Rita Moreno on the couch... I'm so sorry I didn't give One Day At A Time all the love I could have while it actually might have made a difference. Because it is truly special, and I'm sad these amazing people didn't get to keep telling stories together.
Watching the first season of Arrow for me back when it originally aired was mostly a case of "it's a superhero show, I'm a nerd, I'm honour bound to give this a shot" (the early '10s were simpler times, please forgive me). I didn't really get on with the grimdark heroics of the current-day story, nor with the bleak flashbacks, but I guess I was enough of a TV glutton back then to stick with it. Thankfully, both this show and the universe it spawned grew on me over time, but I still didn't expect much, going back to watch Arrow S01E01 again, a decade later.
Imagine my surprise when it turns out that the many subsequent episodes of character and story development seems to have retroactively lent a pretty significant amount of meaning and emotional resonance to a show that wasn't quite equipped to deliver much of the sort at the time. Don't get me wrong, it's still pretty rough around the edges, mostly due to the directors and writers at this point only having the most rudimentary idea how to get the best of out their assembled ensemble. But: because I know how much the work of most of the involved (both in front of and behind the camera) will improve over time, it's easier to forgive the clunky lines and line deliveries. Because I know where Oliver Queen is heading, and where he's actually been as this pilot starts, it's easier to look past the show's brutal super-heroics at the outset.
I can't believe it, I'm actually looking forward to the rest of this rewatch?
