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BoJack Horseman: Time's Arrow (2017)
Without a Doubt, the Best Episode to Date
I watch a ton of television, and I mean a ton. I checked my profile - I've rated 1,678 episodes of television before. 1,678. Out of those, only 25 have ever received a perfect 10. Ever. It's never happened to an episode of "Bojack Horseman" before. It has now.
This is, without doubt, the best episode of "Bojack Horseman" that the show has ever graced us with. I haven't watched the finale yet. Maybe I'll be eating my words, and that'll be even better, but I seriously doubt it. I don't know if "Bojack Horseman" will ever be able to top this episode. Well, they probably will, but this ranks among the greatest episodes of television I've ever seen. And, again, that's quite a bit.
It's hard to describe the magnitude of this episode. It really is. It doesn't feature Diane, Todd, Mr. Peanutbutter, or Princess Carolyn. It features Bojack, his parents, and some characters we get to know through flashbacks. That's it. The episode isn't without humor - Beatrice's father is full of shock-value-offensive quips, much in the style of the show. But most of the episode is a bit reminiscent of "Downer Ending" from season 1. It isn't a drug trip, but it has the feel of one. Physics are denied at every turn. Items and people suddenly appear to suit the story. People are juxtaposed in front of fire, darkness, and anything else that isn't really happening. Time is played with. And yet, it seems like one of the most coherent episodes the show's ever given us. Because despite all that, it makes perfect sense. Everything about this episode makes sense. It explains characters, particularly the parents, it tells the best stand-alone story in the show since "Escape from L.A." (which was, until this episode, the best in the show), and it hides the hand of the writers - the hand that reads 'we own your heart.'
And that's something this show has always been magnificent at - choosing our emotions. Watching this show, the writers have complete and absolute control over what we feel. They're masters at it - it's a level of heart-control that is, frankly, unparalleled in the world of television. When it wants to be funny, it is. When it wants you to be happy, or hopeful, or at least content, you are. And when it wants you to be disgusted with a character - yup. When it wants to drag you through the dirt, with no regard for your well-being and no sympathy for your broken soul, it does. And it's hard to find an example of that better than this one.
The episode takes you on a remarkable journey through the distant and near past alike. The episode is, ironically, named "Time's Arrow," referring to it always "marching forward," but here, the arrow moves back and forth and sideways. Because while real, actual time only moves forward, the human heart, our memories, they collide with each other. I never would've expected to feel bad for Beatrice Horseman. Remember all the horrible things she's said to Bojack over the seasons? But this episode does something ingenious. It turns Beatrice into Bojack. We always knew they were similar, and yet we never fully understood that. We never fully understood Beatrice's hardship. That doesn't excuse her behavior. Bojack's hardship doesn't excuse his, either. But it makes it understandable.
By the end of the episode, you're left in shambles. And then, Bojack does the most decent thing he's ever done on the show. Not long after purposefully bringing his mother down as far as she can reasonably go within the confines of the law, in exchange for ruining the only good relationship in his life, something about his mother's confusion, and recognition of him, strikes a chord - with him and us. And Bojack sits down and humors his mother. Makes her happy. She believes she's in Michigan, and not some hellhole. Twenty-eight minutes ago, we hated Beatrice as much as Bojack did. We hoped to God Bojack would be as cruel as possible. But this episode doesn't end with Bojack's cruelty. It ends with him realizing that his mother's dementia serves as a clean slate. This can be a good relationship in his life. Bojack never had a good mother. Now, to a certain extent, he can. He can have unconditional love. That isn't said. But you can hear it in Arnett and Malick's voices.
To get into the technical reasons this episode is brilliant, I'll be rather brief. Arnett gives his best performance on the show, and it's only beaten by a Emmy-worthy outing from Wendy Malick (as Beatrice). The writing is most certainly up there with "Escape from L.A.;" it might be better. The directing and "cinematography" (well, the way it's animated) is without a doubt the best we've seen from the show (though each Episode 11 blows us away with that kind of thing). And, obviously, it's original. Maybe not quite as original as "Fish Out of Water," but still, even for this show, very inventive.
In truth, I never thought this show would top "Escape from L.A." I didn't even think that it could last episode. But this half-hour proved me very, very wrong and topped, surpassed, and left "Escape from L.A." far behind in the dust. I cannot stress enough how powerful this episode is. How moving it is. How important is. How incredibly brilliant it is.
In fact the only word that is meaningful enough to describe this episode is this one: A Masterpiece.
Breaking Bad (2008)
One of the Greatest Shows Ever Created, Gets Better and Better, Something for Everyone
Breaking Bad, in addition to being one of the best shows ever, is also one of the easiest to love. Never before have I seen a show that seems to have everything you could want. It has the fiery explosions, the gruesome death, and the quotable lines of "Game of Thrones." It has the brilliant dark humor of "The Sopranos." It has the quiet character study of "Six Feet Under." It's recommendable to pretty much anyone, whether you're the type who wants awesomeness and explosions, hilarious dark comedy, or (and this one is me) quiet, brilliant character drama.
How it managed to combine all that is beyond me. If you're able to look past the fact that it's built on what seems like an unrealistic premise (but is actually very realistic once you get to know Walt's backstory), and will often sacrifice hyper-realism for better drama (unlike "The Wire," which sacrifices better drama for hyper-realism), and the fact that, it can, at times, seem a tad stifled in its writing, you'll find what is, without doubt, one of the great shows to ever hit television.
It should be said now, and forever, that "Breaking Bad" is the best- acted show on television. I truly hope people aren't still arguing about that. You can point to any regular member of the cast, and find at least three episodes for which they deserved an Emmy. For certain members, like Cranston, Gunn, and Paul, you can point to pretty much ANY episode and see an Emmy-worthy performance. That can't be said for any other show. Cranston, in particular, gives what is hands-down the greatest performance in television history, and in "Crawl Space," possibly gives the best performance in the HISTORY OF ACTING. Think I'm exaggerating? Get to season 4, episode 11, and you'll understand that I'm not exaggerating at all.
Then, there is another trademark of superiority for this show, something that can rarely be said, and that is the brilliance of the directors of this show. Whether it's "Pilot," directed by Vince Gilligan, subtle but near perfect, or "One Minute," directed by Michelle MacLaren, the best directing television's seen since the first episode of "Lost," or "Hermanos," "Crawl Space," or "Ozymandias," all giving subtle-but-brilliant moments in directing, or the brilliant "Felina," which (and to this day, I'm impressed by this) makes Walt seems about a foot shorter than he actually is, because of the framing, which, given the context, couldn't be more appropriate.
Then, there's the music selection, which may seem unimportant, but is quite great. Whether it's the original soundtrack, masterfully constructed, heart-pounding, or heartbreaking, or the songs they choose, such as "Crystal Blue Persuasion," "The Hole," "Baby Blue," and fifteen others, all of which are positively perfect for each situation.
And the writing, though I criticized it earlier, rightfully, at other times can be some of the best in television. "Gray Matter" sees Walt's fantastic pillow speech, "Grilled" Tuco's insanity, "4 Days Out" the humor the show is capable of while remaining dramatic still, "Ozymandias" the art of the downfall, "Felina" the perfect conclusion, "Crawl Space" the cruelty of Gus Fring, and (UNPOPULAR OPINION), "Fly," one of the best episodes, because of the humor, and it proves itself to be, on multiple viewings, one of the funniest episodes of television ever.
And then, there's the fact that it produced "Ozymandias," which is, as far as I can tell, the inarguable pick for the greatest episode of television ever created.
But perhaps the show's greatest accomplishment is the fact that it takes the trajectory most shows take and flips it. The vast, vast majority of shows start out great, and get worse and worse, until the finale, which is once again great. "Breaking Bad" flips it exactly. The pilot is great, and the show starts out worse than the pilot, and then gets better and better and better, ending in the legendary final season, without hesitation the greatest final season of television ever.
It also has the second-best series finale I've ever seen (seconded by "Everyone's Waiting" from Six Feet Under), brilliant tying up loose ends.
I struggle to find the words that can accurately convey the brilliance of this show, so I'll simply tell you to watch it, and know that I've never known anyone who disliked this show.
Breaking Bad: Ozymandias (2013)
The Greatest Thing Ever Put to Film; an Exercise in Heartbreak
I know that sounds like a completely ridiculous claim, but I genuinely believe it. I've seen great films and shows of every type. I've seen the horror of The Exorcist and The Twilight Zone, the gripping action of The Dark Night and 24, the quiet-but-brilliant character studies of the Godfather, American Beauty, Six Feet Under, and Mad Men, the video essays of The Wire and The Sopranos, the innovation of Twin Peaks and Citizen Kane, the raw, earth-shattering acting of Olivier and Jack Nicholson, the unconventional cinematography of Kubrick and the world of animation, and the brave, sharp writing of Aaron Sorkin and Rod Serling. But nothing I have ever seen compares to this, the greatest complete thing ever filmed.
This episode, more than anything else, is an exercise in heartbreak. Moira Walley-Beckett, in her sadistic genius, has given herself forty- eight minutes to drive everyone watching to gouge their own eyes out, and she did a damn good job with it.
I could spend days walking through this episode. I could pause every two seconds and talk for ten minutes about all the little brilliant things that happened in those two seconds. I really could. This episode has so much to love, so I'll try and just hit three or four things.
First, is the acting. This is far and away the greatest showcase of ensemble cast talent I have ever seen. Sure, Cranston was arguably better in "Crawl Space," but other than that, every actor gives their best performance ever. Whether it's Cranston, who in his line "no, no, no! I tried to save him" packs in more raw, true emotion in a few seconds than I saw in the entire series run of "Lost," or Anna Gunn, left screaming for Walt, calling his name in the middle of the street, chasing after a man who won't come back, a man who's taken her child away from her, which made me want to throw up, or Dean Norris, who just through his eyes and his tone, manages to instill such hatred in Walt it's hard to watch, or Betsy Brandt, who, despite an ugly cry face, pulls off a very REALISTIC ugly cry face, and makes for one of the episode's most tragic moments, or RJ Mitte, yes, even him, whose scene where he's told about Walt is a career performance for him. Or, of course, looking outside the family, we find Aaron Paul, who, admittedly, has been better, but he's still damn good here, particularly in the moment he's told about Jane (the greatest moment in TV history, I'll get to that later).
And that brings me to what I strongly believe to be the greatest moment in television history; Walt's confession to Jesse. After Hank's death, an unintended consequence of Jesse's actions, we know Walt will be furious at Jesse. So it's no surprise that he betrays him the first time, letting the neo-Nazis torture him. That part was no surprise, even if it did hurt a bit to watch. But then, as they take Jesse away, Walt tells them to stop. Walt and Jesse's friendship is the cornerstone of the show, and it always has been. I feel warm and fuzzy when they get along, and at odds with the world at large when they don't. The chemistry (no pun intended) is some of the best in television. Because of this, I can't help but hope that Walt will come through for his buddy in the end. But instead, he says "I watched Jane die," with a face wracked with sympathy. Oh, I think, he's confessing. It's not as sweet, but it's still something. He's finally coming clean. He's apologizing. Begging for his forgiveness. But, then, as Walt says "I was there... and I watched her die," his face (this is the brilliant part) turns darker. Much, much darker. And as he continues the line, his motive becomes clear. He isn't apologizing at all; he's TWISTING THE KNIFE. This is the ultimate moment of cruelty for Walt - he just wants to make Jesse suffer. He gets nothing out of saying this in this way but a feeling that he's made Jesse's life worse. It's possibly the most horrific thing ever done in television history, and yet it's just words. And if you ask me, it's the greatest moment in television history (MAYBE it's rivaled by the ending montage of Six Feet Under).
I've gone on long enough in detail, so I'll mention a few other moments that I don't need to be too detailed about.
Credit to the director, I loved the moment where we see the knife and the phone in focus as Skyler walks to the counter, and we don't know which she's going for.
Credit to the writer, another amazing, little moment was when Walt says, not even looking at Jack, "found him," in the most sinister way, like he's already about to burst.
Also credit to the director, the moment where Walt's head blocks the sun is wonderful. That could be symbolism, or it could be just a pretty cool shot. Either way, it's great.
Television will never, ever achieve true perfection. But this episode is probably as close as we'll ever get.
Six Feet Under: All Alone (2005)
A Masterpiece
And as Todd Chavez would say, "I don't throw that word around lightly." In fact, I have only used that word to describe an episode of television six other times (and I haven't even seen "everyone's waiting" yet). This is far and away the best episode of "Six Feet Under" yet and is one of the best hours of television I've ever seen.
This is notable for being the only episode so far that doesn't open with a death, and it's easy to see why, and there are three reasons I can think of, 1) this episode comes after the show was turned on its head, why should it follow the normal format since the circumstances aren't normal? 2) this episode could be seen as a continuation of "Ecotone," which ended on a death card, and 3) they simply couldn't waste any time. And the third one is especially true. There was not a fleeting moment in this episode that was wasted. It was the most emotionally destroying episode of TV I've ever seen (except "Ozymandias" from Breaking Bad), and every scene went along with that notion.
I struggle, actually struggle, to find any fault with this episode. Claire's car ride seemed a bit oddly placed in the episode, but maybe that's on purpose. In the flashback, Claire's comment "his music will live on" is a bit on-the-nose for "Six Feet Under," but, again, maybe that's the point. This is an episode where there is nothing objectively wrong with it, which is something I can rarely say.
That being said, I didn't enjoy every moment of this episode. But that part is most certainly on purpose. I wasn't supposed to enjoy this. I wasn't supposed to have a good time. I was supposed to be constantly moving my mouse, looking for when, oh when, will this episode end!? I wanted the end to come so badly, but not because it isn't good, but because of the nature of its goodness, in that it doesn't stop breaking your heart, even for a moment. While Six Feet Under is usually a show that mixes comedy and drama better than any other show I've seen, there is no comedy in this episode. While this show often has me in stitches, the only thing that came close to humor here was Ruth saying "God is an asshole," and her sister immediately chiming in "God IS an asshole!!," but other than that, there's no comedy to be found. The episode drags on and on, because your suffering is supposed to go as long as HBO is allowed to make it go, while still being effective. At 57 minutes, it's one of the longest-running episodes of the show already, but it feels like about five hours.
Of course, the final thing I'd like to mention for this review is the acting shown in this hour. And to that, I can't accurately describe how good the acting here is. The fact that no one won an Emmy for this baffles me more than you know. Point to any living central character, and you see someone who should be holding an Emmy: Frances Conroy? Of course. Lauren Ambrose? Yeah. Michael C. Hall? Yes! Rachel Griffiths? Hell, yes! Along with that, Mathew St. Patrick and Peter Krause are no slouches, either. Bettina shares a nice moment with Ruth, as does George, and Rico gives a great, heartfelt speech.
The writing for this episode is unparalleled in the world of early Golden Age of Television, and the directing is great, too, particularly in scenes with David, still reeling from a particular episode in season four.
There's nothing not to love here, and if "Everyone's Waiting" is better than this, than I've got one hell of a ride ahead of me.
Six Feet Under: The Silence (2005)
What I Expect Will be the Show's Last Weak Episode
I'm writing these reviews not having seen the rest of the show, so I can't say that for sure, but it definitely looks that way. The final episodes of "Six Feet Under," as I hear from everyone, including IMDb, starting with the episode after this one, construct the greatest consecutive episodes ever, besides perhaps the legendary final outing of "Breaking Bad." And this episode is decidedly not as strong as the show usually is, and makes for what will likely be the last time this show treads water of any kind.
And that's exactly what this episode does - treads water. But not in the good way, like "Twilight" from season three, which got nothing done, but still was one of the best episodes in the show. It treads water in the way that isn't fun to watch. The episode, as usual, gives a storyline to all the characters, and, as it too often does, gives by far the short end of the stick to Claire, who, after a meaningful moment in the previous episode when she realizes she might not be an artist, this episode, essentially just blabs about it in her workplace, in which people don't have any real character, another thing that the show usually does well. Usually in the show, even the smallest characters have personalities you could spend hours dissecting, but not Claire's new colleagues. Although, maybe that's the point.
Rico's storyline is the worst this episode, getting absolutely nothing done. Early on in the episode, Rico tells Ruth (although its in a vision) that Vanessa doesn't like making love to him, or even looking at him. So we've established that that's happening, and yet we spend a ludicrous amount of time proving it in the episode (time that could be better spend making David's storyling a bit more believable, but I'll get to that in a moment). We know, Vanessa asked Rico to move in but she still doesn't love him. The only thing that happens in his storyline that's new is that he actually confronts her about it, which was a good scene, but not worth the wait.
And that brings me to David's storyline, another weak one. David and Keith have been dealing with their new children for a bit now, and this episode does do one thing effectively with them; it shows progress, at least at the end. Both with the children and with each other, and it's one of the best scenes in the episode because of how nice it is (the rest of the episode is a bit of a downer, so it's refreshing). And yet, we didn't spend nearly enough time with them to explain why that happened. Durell seems to have found a new connection with David and Keith, because they went to his play when he didn't want them to. From what little we've seen of Durell, I think we can assume that that's a bit unrealistic for him. I think that this episode would've greatly benefited if they had cut Rico out completely, and spent that time with David, Keith, and Durell, so they could have more of a transformation process in this episode to get to that nice moment, because as it stands, I'm not really buying it.
And then there's Ruth, who has been shining more than ever this season. Every single episode thus far has featured a stunning acting moment from Frances Conroy, and although many are similar, none are the same, and each require a subtly different approach. And this episode is no exception. I don't have much dissection to do of her story this episode other than that it's quite good, and for fairly obvious reasons that aren't really worth mentioning, because George sums it up eloquently, and angrily, and perfectly, in a line I know I'll get wrong, and therefore won't quote, but he talks about the fact that she wants him gone, but doesn't want to let her go.
And finally, saving the best for last, there is the Brenda/Nate storyline, which, as it often does, shines the brightest. This is largely due to the "Master of None"-worthy chemistry between the two actors (that's the highest compliment I can give chemistry, by the way), and by the way that they're written, so flawed, and perhaps perfect for each other, or perhaps the opposite. But definitely not in the middle. As Nate is the main character, they get the most minutes, usually (a notable exception would be the brilliant, David-centric "That's My Dog"), and this allows them to be wonderfully fleshed out. But whoever ends the episode defines (along with the death in the beginning), the tone of the episode, and this episode ends with a series of cuts between Nate and Brenda, meaningless out of context, yet meaningful because of the fact that it's cutting between them: they aren't in two different places at random moments in time, they're in two different places all the time, which is exactly what Brenda said, that they've been separate for so long, now. And, especially with the closing scene, it's hard to argue with that, despite how much I want them to remain a couple.
And that's it. Keep in mind, that when I say "weak," in an episode of Six Feet Under, I actually mean pretty damn good compared to most of television. But, as this show is challenging the likes of "Breaking Bad" and "Mad Men" for my pick of the best show ever, this episode, unfortunately, fails to meet its incredible standards.
I look forward to the final stretch, and will review any of the coming episodes if I feel that I have something to say that no one on IMDb has mentioned in a review.
Six Feet Under: Dancing for Me (2005)
Besides David's dream, near flawless.
Why this is rated as the lowest non-season 4 episode of "Six Feet Under," I can't say.
This episode essentially only has one fault (big enough to subtract two stars from what was otherwise perhaps a perfect 10), and it's David's ludicrous vision. While Ruth has a fantastic vision scene of her screaming at George (I'll get to the brilliant work done with them later in the review), David has what at first seems to be a sweet vision, with a bright red barn, Keith in denim overalls; a callback to his childhood, but then turns into something more sinister - and some of that is intentional - but it's a bit hard to take it seriously. "Six Feet Under" is rarely so literal, and I'm not a fan.
But besides that, there's so much to love about this episode. In fact, if that scene were omitted, it would be the perfect representation of what the show is like. Every character (except Claire, who gets the short end of the stick here, plot-wise) has a plot line here to love.
Rico's is perhaps the least great of the great story lines here, but it's still good. Rico's fighting with Vanessa in recent seasons has made it all the better to see them getting along again, even under the pretense of a terrible lie that Rico tells for the sake of his pride with a love that's already gone.
David, meanwhile, apart from his dream, has a great storyline this episode, even in the face of a supremely odd request from Keith. It's clear from the first moment that David isn't a fan, and the only fault is that the show feels the need to keep reminding us when we don't need to be reminded. Nonetheless, it makes for some good character moments between them, and what is one of the nicest things ever said on the show, in reference to his boyfriend wishing he could look at the child and see both of them, "hopefully, you still will."
Nate's storyline is a bit gimmicky, for two reasons, but it works to its advantage. First, a death serves almost as a reunion with one of his high-school buddies, and his storyline culminates in the fantastic scene at the bar, when Tom Wheeler gives a much-appreciated callback to "American Beauty," one of the greatest screenplays ever, and written by Alan Ball, creator of "Six Feet Under" himself. Wheeler talks about going through nearly exactly what Lester Burnham went through in American Beauty - he's having a mid-life crisis, and fantasizing about one of his daughter's friends (another callback - the daughter's friend from American Beauty, Angela, was played by the same actress who played Edie back in Season 4). What's more interesting here is Nate's reaction, and I give full credit here to Peter Krause. I think the teleplay was written one-dimensionally, not to its fault, as Nate honestly denies sharing any of that attitude. But Krause puts a fantastic spin on it, and throws himself into the face and voice that Nate typically uses when he's defensive, and when he's partially lying. That's something to think about, or I could be reading too much into it. But with a show like this, there's generally a lot to read into.
And finally, I've saved the best for last, with what is one of the best Ruth-episodes we've ever had. And the journey Scott Buck takes us on is amazing. We haven't witnessed George's outbursts since before he was treated for them, and so we've been led to believe that they've stopped happening. The treatment seems to have worked, and his daughter is elated. But Ruth is still being cold to him. So, we naturally think that she's the bad guy in the situation. She refuses to believe that George can evolve (Nate has similar thoughts about Billy, a parallel worth taking notice of), even though it looks like he clearly has. Watching this episode, I thought Ruth was perhaps having a maternity complex, where since George had, at one time, been her responsibility to take care of, she got an odd liking out of that feeling, and didn't want to believe that he was better. But then, when George discovers there's no more of his favorite flavor of ice cream, the tables turn on us, as he flips out over such a little thing. George isn't better at all, and that realization hits us with no warning at all. And we're forced to reevaluate. Ruth wasn't being a jerk at all, she had no ulterior motives. This has been happening consitently. We just haven't been seeing it. Ruth's been dealing with it, just not in front of the camera lens. And thus, we're taken on one of the biggest, greatest fake-outs that the show has ever given us - one of personality. Why they chose to fake us out, I can't say, but they did a damn good job at it.
Friends (1994)
Succeeds in Being Great Comedy, But Lacks Any Depth
Frankly, that's the highest praise you'll ever give a show that went 10 seasons.
This show, of course, is filmed in front of a live studio audience. And there's a reason so many comedies do that. While it seems distracting (until you get used to it), it actually does something almost sinister. It makes a show seem funnier than it actually is. Laughter is more contagious than any disease on earth, so when we hear a studio audience cracking up, we will, too.
That being said, this show is genuinely funny - but not because of the writing. Sure, the writing can be great (the "Backpacking in Eastern Europe" story is a standout in fantastic writing, as is "The One With the Embryos"), but surprisingly, the thing that makes this show so damn funny is the actors. And it's one of the only comedies that operates this way.
The vast majority of comedies work because of the writing (think "Malcolm in the Middle," "How I Met Your Mother," "Master of None," "30 Rock," "Modern Family"). There are a few rarities that work because of the directing (think "Arrested Development" and "The Office"), but "Friends" is pretty much the only one (although the Office does too, a little) that works because of the acting.
For me, the funniest moments in the show are all attributed to the actors' performances. These include Rachel coping with Ross' new Girlfriend in early S2 (Julie! Isn't that just kick-you-in-the-crotch- spit-on-your-neck-fantastic!?), Chandler and Phoebe's career performances in "The One Where Everybody Finds Out," Monica crying in "Rachel's Going Away Party," Joey Speaking French, and of course, the ALL-TIME FUNNIEST PART OF THE SHOW, Ross being "fine!" and spelling out the word L-O-V-E in his intense state of denial.
But beyond the acting and a few other moments of great writing, the show doesn't offer any real heart. I enjoyed the episodes with Ross and Rachel, and Chandler and Monica, but not because I was invested in their love stories, because they used great jokes in those episodes.
And at the end of the day, that's the show's largest weakness: the characters. The six mains are either complete stereotypes, or have no real personality. I'll show you.
Ross: The only consistent thing about him is that he's a nerd. But in any given episode, he's barbaric, romantic, rational, insane, or anything else you could attribute to a human. Weak character. Rachel: Also has no personality. She's spoiled, but other than that, nothing, really. She's also too down-to-earth for her own character at times. Monica: A stereotypical control-freak, neat-freak, competitive type. No other depth. Joey: Stereotypical ladies' man. All about the ladies, dumb as hell, but a child at heart. Makes for good comedy, but not good television. Phoebe: Literally just the oddball in the group. Not only are the throw-away jokes about her past contradictory to each other almost constantly, so are her personality traits, the things she says and does -- and oh yes, she's very funny...until there's an episode devoted to her.
You'll notice I left Chandler out of that. And that's because Chandler is actually a really good character. At first, it seems that Chandler is just a way for the show to deliver stand-up-style jokes, but it works because that's exactly who Chandler is. He uses humor as a coping mechanism, and as he says, "it's all I have." While that's really only two layers of personality, that's twice as many layers as everyone else on the show, so kudos.
My other note, neither criticism nor praise, is just an observation worth sharing: in my opinion, the show peaked from Seasons 3-6. It took a while to find itself completely, and fell flat towards the end, but those four seasons are truly great. The best one is S4.
You're probably thinking I'm being to critical of the show. But I gave it an 8/10. That criticism would bring a drama down to a 5, maybe a 4. But after it all, "Friends" is a comedy, and it's purpose is to make people laugh, and in that, it succeeds admirably. It remains a funny show on multiple viewings. It's humor got it to an 8. The only thing that kept it from a 10 was quality and depth (and don't think that comedy can't be deep and funny -- look at "Modern Family" and "Master of None").
8.4/10. As far as comedies go, this one's damn good.
13 Reasons Why (2017)
Switches between brilliant and terrible.
SPOILERS BELOW
I want to open with a disclaimer. I'm extremely critical of Hannah in the bottom-section of the review, and with the show's message of suicide. I AM NOT TRYING TO DISCOUNT THE ISSUE OF SUICIDE. I'm only saying, at the big paragraph in the review towards the end, that the show takes the wrong stance entirely, and doesn't blame Hannah for her actions.
"13 Reasons Why" isn't a 7/10 because it's okay. It's a 7/10 because there are parts that are 10/10 and parts that are 4/10. It's an all-or- nothing show - one scene I'll be heartbroken and in awe, the next cringing. And I'll attempt to dissect exactly why that is.
I'll start with my praises for the show. 1) It is without a doubt one of the bravest shows I have ever seen. There are two rape scenes that are shown in horrific detail, and an even more horrifyingly detailed suicide scene. (I DID warn about spoilers) 2) The acting -- Jesus Christ. The only show I've ever seen with better acting than this is "Breaking Bad." Other than that, this show has the best acting I've ever witness in television. Truly magnificent. Kate Walsh, Katherine Langford, and MVP Dylan Minnette all give more than Emmy-worthy performances. Just brilliant acting. Bravissimo. 3) The camera-work. I went into this expecting pretty normal cinematography. After all, it's not really what matters in the show. But I was pleasantly surprised. The camera switches between past and present with such grace that I haven't seen since...well, ever, really. 4)This could fall under camera-work, but I think it deserves another button: the subtle technique that they use - when Hannah's alive, colors are brighter, after she's dead, they get darker and bluer. Nice touch. Seriously.
Keep in mind, that above is some of the highest praise I've ever given a television show.
Now below is some of the harshest criticism.
1) The writing is so, so bad. My personal least-favorites are "FML," "FML forever," "Little did I know he would F my L," "It's gotta change, the way we treat each other," and of course "We all killed Hannah Baker." The dialogue ranges between cringe-worthy fake slang, and cringe-worthy cheesiness. 2) I'm sorry, but why the hell didn't Bryce get a tape and Justin got that one instead? I get Justin did a bad thing too there, but Bryce was the ACTUAL PERSON WHO RAPED JESSICA. But he gets off scot-free!? 3) Give me a break. Cassette tapes? Tapes at all? Not saying good-bye to your family? I call B.S. there. 4) Clay did absolutely nothing wrong for his tape. What, because he did what she wanted him to do, she killed herself? Really? 5) Beyond those, my biggest complaint is the message of the show, which I'll go into detail about.
THE MESSAGE Essentially, the show wants to help prevent teen suicide, which is, of course, a noble cause. But in my opinion, it sides with the wrong person. Suicide is one of the most asinine things a human being can do, and yet the show constantly victimizes post-suicide Hannah. Do I feel bad for her? Yes. Was she a victim? Yes. But not after the suicide, only before. Once you make a choice like that, you're not the victim. People who are bullied have my sincerest sympathies. But people who kill themselves, and put their pain on the people who care about them, only have my sincerest disgust. And yet, the show makes it seem like suicide was almost the right thing to do in that scenario. Like she was forced to. Like she had to. Like they drove her to it. Are they partially responsible? Yeah. But the show makes it seem like they're wholly responsible, and that isn't true. 90% of Hannah's suicide is Hannah's fault. Because she's the one who did it. Of course people shouldn't bully people. And does this happen all the time? Yes. People in situations like Hannah's, and even situations LESS extreme than hers, kill themselves. But the show doesn't just point out the problem. It sides with suicide "victims," and I put that in quotes, because there is no "suicide victim," there are suicide committers. The show doesn't get mad at Hannah enough. And none of the characters do, either. When it's down to brass tacks, suicide is a way of (intentionally or otherwise) stabbing everyone who loves you through the heart. The suffering of Hannah's parents is on Hannah, and the show puts it on everyone else. The anti-suicide message is on the wrong side of the coin. It shouldn't be "don't make other people do it," it should be "don't f****** do it."
I'm sorry if that's a harsh thing to say about a very sensitive subject matter, but it needed to be said. The show is a real problem, because it makes suicide seem like a viable option, which IT NEVER IS.
But keep in mind, that even with that big, long, complaint, the rest of the show was so damn good that it brought it to a 7/10.
Sneaky Pete: The Turn (2017)
The Best Episode Yet
I haven't seen "The Longest Day" yet, so I won't say "the best episode" without saying "yet" as well. This is also the first episode that compelled me to write a review of it, so kudos.
This episode was, to put it simply, very, very good television. "Sneaky Pete" premiered, already getting off to a great start, with a talented lead in Ribisi, a clearly great writing and directing staff, and an appearance by Television-God Bryan Cranston. Then, it dipped slightly in quality, but it never dipped far enough to call it mediocre. It was always good.
This episode has surpassed the pilot. With each episode of "Sneaky Pete," the situation got a bit more complex (which makes me wonder if a second season will be nearly as good). This episode, however, takes that and turns it on its head. Most everything about this episode is well above TV par. The writing is great (personal favorites include "I'm going to kill you," and every scene with either Character Actress Margo Martindale or Television-God Bryan Cranston), the directing is great, and the acting is superb. Television-God Bryan Cranston, as usual, is the highlight of the show, and while this performance could never challenge his iconic role in "Breaking Bad," it comes closer than I was expecting it to. However, a "Turn" I was not expecting came from Giovanni Ribisi, who I always knew was talented, but displayed an entirely new level of acting this episode, where you could actually see all the layers of character he's built up. Bravo.
Ending on a fantastic cliffhanger, you'll forgive me if I stop writing this review to watch the final episode.
8.8/10 (which is very good; I'm hard to please)
Sherlock: The Final Problem (2017)
One of the Most Disturbing TV Episodes Ever
I have seen a lot of very, very disturbing television. And I don't mean sappy gore disturbing, I mean truly, emotionally devastating. There are a few episodes that rank among the most devastating in all of television: "The Grove" from TWD, "Chapter 14" from House of Cards, "The Suitcase" from Mad Men, "Ozymandias" from Breaking Bad, and now "The Final Problem" from Sherlock. It is one of the most disturbing episodes of television I have ever seen, and as I have proved, there is significant competition.
Unfortunately, this only garners an 86% in my book, which is BARELY enough to round up to 9 stars. Why? Because, frankly, it isn't very well thought-out. But, to be nice, I'll start with all the positives in this episode.
Sian Brooke (Eurus), Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, Mark Gatiss, and Andrew Scott are ALL PHENOMENAL. More than usual, in fact. Sian Brooke gives one of the most terrifying performances in TV history, as does Andrew Scott (again!), while Cumberbatch, Freeman, and Gatiss are all wonderfully vulnerable; a state that we don't normally see themselves in.
The writing directing is some of the best in the show's run. In fact, this episode contains my new pick for the greatest moment in TV history: "We never had a dog," due to both of those factors and the way they complement each other -- perfectly, I might add. That's not the only example of the great directing and writing in the episode, of course, but it is certainly the best.
Unfortunately, that's all the praise I can give this episode, and now we enter the remaining 14% that this episode didn't get.
I take issue with two parts of this episode the most: the beginning and the end. So we'll start with the beginning.
You may recall that in the last episode, it ended with Eurus shooting John Watson in the face. Great ending. In this episode, the first person we see is Mycroft. Fair enough. Then Sherlock. A little weird, but fair enough. And then - surprise, surprise! Out pops good ol' John! As much as I love "Sherlock," I'm officially calling B.S. This is too much like Glen from TWD, and that is a serious insult coming from me. I don't doubt that John survived, I want to know why there was a tranquilizer in a REAL GUN, which seems to have only happened to keep us coming back the next week, which we would've done anyway. I wanted to see what the show would look like without John, and for a moment I thought I would, but nope! Buddy mystery! Oh, and then, when I thought Sherlock was going to kill him, it turns out he'd rather kill himself. Great turn of events...until he doesn't even pull the trigger on anybody. Come ON, writers. It's okay to kill your characters.
Now for the ending. The last fifteen minutes of this episode are by far the most confusing 15 minutes of anything I've ever seen, and I don't think that's on purpose. Okay, so Eurus is the girl on the plane. So, is this all a flashback? Is there a plane? No? So all of this was fake? No, John's still in the well. So why did they do all those things if it wasn't real? And how did Eurus change her voice like that? Is the girl Eurus, or is Eurus the girl? Did Sherlock not see this coming? How did she control all this from her room? And how did she organize it in five minutes?
I understand all those questions have answers, but if this were better television, I wouldn't even be asking them.
All that criticism being said, this really was (for the most part) a fantastic, heartbreaking, disturbing, devastating, brilliant episode of television -- but Sherlock has very high standards.
Sherlock: The Lying Detective (2017)
Absolutely Brilliant
I am very hard to please. I have given 10 stars to only 13 episodes of television ever, and that's out of hundreds that I've rated. But this deserves it.
Everything about this episode shines, and I can only address so much in a single review. So, I'll start with the acting work in this episode.
It's hard to pick an MVP actor/actress for this episode, because god dammit, everyone's so good. There's Benedict Cumberbatch delivering the heartbreaking third "I don't want to die," in sharp contrast to his earlier spree of intensity while shooting the wall in his flat. There's Martin Freeman, best towards the end of the episode when he breaks down, but solid throughout. There's Una Stubbs, as hilarious as usual, with a touch of fire we've never seen in her before, which was welcome. There's Toby Jones (Culverton Smith), who's laugh could send chills down the spine of a volcano. However, if I must, I'll give it to Toby Jones, because he's tied with Cumberbatch in this episode, but we get the latter all the time. Jones is a one-time thing (probably).
Moving on to the writing, this has to be one of the most brilliantly written episodes of television ever. There's the first amazing reveal: "Anyone," which seems so obvious, and yet so brilliantly bone-chilling. Then, there's Smith's interrogation of Sherlock about exactly how one goes about catching a serial killer. There's Mrs. Hudson's brilliantly simple "Get out of my house, you reptile," there's the hallucination reveal, there's the full "Save John Watson" sequence, there's the Black Mirror-esque "I don't want to die," there's the The Edge-esque "She died saving your life," there's John's heartbreaking confession, and of course, the huge reveal at the end is magnificently done.
Of course, the directing here is also worth talking about, but it's more difficult to actually talk about it. Essentially, the highlight of the directorial work is the lack of the series norm. Sherlock is under unique, different circumstances. There's no text flying about like normal, no epic thinking montages. Why should there be? This isn't like old times. Mary Watson is dead. We can't be allowed to think this is normal.
Of course, this episode ends on a horrific note: "I think I'll put a hole in it." She shoots, and the screen turns red.
I believe that John Watson is dead. Or, I certainly hope so. Of course, I'd be heartbroken, but more than anything I'd love to see how dark and gritty the show gets when half of it is ripped out from under it. I also hope the next episode will be the last - ever. Not because I don't want more "Sherlock," which I do, but because this could be the perfect note to end the series on: the aftermath of John's death, from none other than Sherlock's sister.
This is the series' best episode since "The Reichenbach Fall," and I would struggle to give anything such high praise.
One of the best episodes of television - ever. Shines in all departments. 9.8/10.
Lost: S.O.S. (2006)
In Defense of "S.O.S."
I usually don't find myself writing reviews that start with "In Defense of...," but here, I needed to.
This episode of the, let's be honest, unstable TV show, "Lost," which I have recently been sucked into the void of, has one of the lowest IMDb ratings of all the episodes. It deserves to have one of the highest. People's main problem with this episode is that they consider it to be filler. But "Lost" is a show that has more filler than plot most of the time, or at least real plot. The writers of Lost have filler down to a science, and they've gotten damn good at it. This episode is proof. Looking past that, this episode is a brilliant stand-alone episode of television, and it is what makes Lost so good.
The first (and highest) praise I have to give is to Sam Anderson, who played Bernard this episode, who absolutely knocked it out of the park. When Rose uttered "I'm dying," my smile disintegrated. But Bernard's reaction to that same sentence had me weeping buckets. I hope in the future the show brings Bernard into the central characters, because Sam Anderson is currently the best actor on the show and he deserves to be challenged by it.
Normally, the show's biggest weakness is the very thing it's about: the characters. The show tries so hard to be a character study, and yet it seems to often fail on a fundamental level. There are very strong characters in the show, of course (Rose, Sawyer, Bernard, Locke, Ana Lucia, Jin, Sun, etc.), but there are also characters who just aren't consistently written (Jack, Kate, Hurley, Charlie, Claire, etc.). This episode features two of each - only with a caveat. Jack and Kate, who are normally weakly written, are all of a sudden great, flawed, well- rounded, layered characters, rather than talking devices. So from a character perspective, this episode is miles above most.
Then there's the writing. I'm a fan of a lot of the writing from this episode. First of all, the flashback in this episode is, hands down, the best flashback of the show yet. Every line uttered in that flashback is worth mentioning in this review. In addition to that, there were a lot of great lines thrown in here and there, such as "I'm trying to get people saved," to which Eko replies, "People are saved in different ways," and Kate's (who almost never gets a good line) "I'm sorry I kissed you," and Jack's "I'm not."
Finally, the directing of this episode is something to be proud of. The moments are almost to many to name. There's Rose walking into Isaac's main room, there's Locke rolling up to her in the airport, there's Locke demanding from Henry if he pushed the button and Henry's smirk, there's Bernard and Rose dancing on the beach.
Of course, the best moment in directing in this episode was the camera spinning wildly around Jack, calling for the Others to come and get him. Although they cut to Kate at one point (a decision I personally would not have made), the chunk of time devoted to spinning is a rare moment of absolute directorial brilliance in the show: it makes you think, truly believe that during the next rotation, the Others will be standing there, and the soundtrack will pounce on us like a lion. And the brilliant thing is, the show does something it almost never does: The Others don't show up. All that suspense, and we're left hanging, in this case, exactly where we should be.
The defense rests.
Mad Men (2007)
One of the Greatest TV Shows Ever
In this world, there are a set amount of truly original things, especially in television. There are very few TV dramas that are/were truly original for their time. Probably under ten. And make no mistake, "Mad Men" is one of them.
"Mad Men" has no central plot, looking back. The beginning doesn't neatly tie in with the ending. The ending isn't even really a proper ending because that's not how real life works. It was the first non- soap opera TV drama to take what is sort of a non-premise and turn it into upwards of 50 hours of television.
The other thing about Mad Men's premise is that, well, simply put, it's awful. The premise is pretty much this: "Don Draper, husband and father of two, with a mysterious past, works at an advertising agency." Or, if you consider Peggy the main character: "Peggy Olson, a young woman with talents she doesn't know she has, becomes a secretary at an advertising agency."
And that's the EXCITING way to put it. The premise for "Mad Men" is without a doubt one of the most boring premises in television drama history. Which is why it's INCREDIBLE the way the writers, actors, and directors turn it into ONE OF THE MOST INTERESTING SHOWS EVER.
That's not all, either. The show is without a doubt the most realistic show to ever hit the small screen. Even other brilliant dramas (Breaking Bad, Sherlock, The Sopranos) have significant problems when it comes to how they portray what the characters would really do and how real life works. To use my examples as examples: Breaking Bad is more dramatic than real life (even for a drug dealer), Sherlock has a somewhat uneven cast of characters, and The Sopranos has an even MORE uneven cast of characters.
But Mad Men is different. When you watch Mad Men, or at least when I do, I feel like I am watching something that really happened, more so than any other television show I've seen (and I've seen a hell of a lot). Time skips around. In comedies, where each season is a year, important things seem to always happen once a year (finales). This even happens a lot in dramas. Since "Mad Men" wants to have good season finales, they fix the other thing: they play around with time however they damn well please and it's all the more brilliant for it.
The other thing that truly makes this show so fantastic is the characters. Mad Men is, without a doubt, a character study on its entire cast, and it has characters so vivid and well-rounded they could almost be in The Office (which has, by the way, the best cast of characters of any show, ever), which is an extremely high complement. To only name a few, there's mysterious Don Draper, tragic Salvatore Romano, fierce Betty Draper, two-faced Lane Pryce, hilarious Roger Sterling, enigmatic Bertram Cooper, and, possibly the best TV character of all time, Joan Holloway. I could go on for a review about each of them, but I won't.
The acting is, needless to say, brilliant. The MVP is, of course, Jon Hamm, but he has real competition from January Jones, Elizabeth Moss, John Slattery, and Christina Hendricks.
The show is 15% dialogue and 80% subtext (the remaining 5% is all the sex scenes), which is what makes it brilliant (a word I'm probably using too much in this review). Never before have I seen so much in a television show go unsaid (not since "Fish Out of Water," anyway).
The show is without a doubt the most artistic thing to ever hit the small screen. Weiner says it was rewarding to create it. The other writers say it was rewarding to write it. The directors say it was rewarding to direct it. The cast say it was rewarding just to be in it.
I can tell you, with absolute confidence, that just WATCHING this show was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I have rarely reflected more deeply, been more inspired, cried or laughed harder, or been more captivated than I was watching this show.
All that being said, I don't recommend this show to everyone I know. And the reason for that is because not everyone will like it very much. It's artsy. It's slow. It's borderline pretentious. Very few people die, and when they do, there are no explosions behind them or sick burns issued by the badass killer. It isn't the most exciting show on television, not even close. It's at times tiring just to watch it, looking through all the layers of character trying to analyse on just a very basic level.
But what it lacks in all that it more than makes up for in everything I've said above. It is entertaining, it is thought- provoking, it is intelligent, it is artful, it is correctly paced, and it makes absolutely no effort to please the fans, because they know that if they don't try to please us by giving us everything we want, we'll be pleased even more.
If you want explosions and badass dialogue, watch "Breaking Bad," which is equally incredible, but in an opposite way. Stay away from this show.
But if you want everything else I said in this review, no show does it as well as this one, and the only time you'll be unsatisfied is when you finish the show and realize that nothing will ever be quite like "Mad Men." For those people, I cannot possibly recommend this show more and I cannot recommend any show more than this one.
The Walking Dead: Last Day on Earth (2016)
In Defense of "Last Day on Earth"
In order to stop the other fans from stoning me, let me preface this entire review with this: the ending was the biggest cop-out I've seen on television in my entire life. And I watched "The Sopranos," so there's serious competition. I was disappointed, everyone was disappointed. But the final moment does not speak for the entire episode.
I do not believe this is the worst episode of The Walking Dead. I actually believe that had the ending been more appropriate for a season finale, it would've been one of the best of the show. And there's a good reason why. But first, the episode's biggest weakness.
This episode was, frankly, insultingly unrealistic, which was pretty much the thing that took two whole stars off. Yikes. From start to finish, the biggest trope in the episode was those gangs on the roads blocking them, but not doing much of anything. And while that made for some truly brilliant tension, it would never have been the way it played out, even given Negan's playful nature. The other scene that proved ridiculous was not the ending scene, which was mostly brilliant, but the ending part of the ending scene. From where he starts playing eenie meenie. This is a stupid choice, and Negan is clearly much smarter than this. You don't kill the leader, because then you pretty much lose the group. You don't kill his kid, because then the leader has nothing left to lose. You don't kill Glen, because (as he's shown), he's emotionally very attached to Maggie, and thus you don't kill Maggie either, to make sure they know they could always lose each other at any moment. You don't kill Abraham, because he's clearly too willing to die. You don't kill Eugene, because he's the intelligent, somewhat submissive one. And I'm sure, with all his spy work, that he knows that. You don't kill Aaron or the other minor guys because the group might not be as shaken up. So you're essentially left with two choices: Daryl and Michonne. Pick between them. Don't do the stupid game crap. Negan is way too smart for that. And also, it's worth mentioning that there's no good reason to only kill one of them.
Now that we've gotten all the crap out of the way, onto why this episode isn't nearly the worst in the show, and that is pretty much everything else about it.
The acting, particularly from Lincoln and Yeun (whose character, by the way, shouldn't actually be alive), was phenomenal. While Cudlitz and Riggs didn't make me believe their characters here, and nor did McDermitt, Cohan and Morgan both gave incredible performances. Which brings me to the best part of the episode: Negan.
Negan is hands down the greatest villain in "Walking Dead" history. Absolutely hands down no questions asked the greatest villain. He's even on par with Fring and Welker from "Breaking Bad." And the reason for that is the aura of mystery that surrounds him. There's been an entire season of build-up to meeting this character. More, actually, than a season, if you look at really small things. But the build-up really started in the season six premiere, and ever since the mid-season return, it's gotten nail-bitingly intense. And Jeffery Dean Morgan was a great choice. I won't say no one else could've played Negan, but he's certainly a fantastic match, and he gave an all-star performance. His playfulness mixed with evil is reminiscent of the greatest villain in television history: Moriarty from "Sherlock."
The directing was good, but it did, at times, fail to be any more than film-school good. It's great, it captured the emotion, the tension build was some of the best in the show, but it sort of felt like, with those actors and that script, any film major could've done the same. We need Frank Darabont back on the show.
In a way, this episode was satisfying. Any show has a responsibility to leave us off with a cliffhanger, to leave some loose end painfully untied and dangling. And while this one was excessive, ridiculous, and unrealistic at that, the climax happened. The climax for the entire sixteen episodes of build-up, two of them double length, was seeing Negan's face. We're afraid of him long before we see him, but we still want to see him. The season had a resolution. But then it introduced a new problem at the last second and left us hanging.
In short, if the ending had never happened, this might've been a 10/10. But that ending was a -2-star ending. 8.1/10
How I Met Your Mother: Last Forever: Part Two (2014)
Fundamentally Terrible Television
This is, and I say this without exaggeration, probably the worst series finale of all time.
There are exactly TWO good things about this episode. Count 'em, TWO. The first is Barney's heartwarming speech to his newborn daughter, hearkening back to the beginning of the episode. The second is the T.M. dialogue under the umbrella.
So now onto why this is awful television and an awful way to end a series.
It was about Robin. And it should NOT have been about Robin. Sure, back in the mid seasons of the show, everyone loved the idea of Ted and Robin. They had and still have great chemistry. But the show, as it was clearly stated in the very first episode, was about the mother and the path Ted takes to meet her. Not about the path he takes to get back together with Robin. We liked Ted and Robin, but the last season was dedicated to Ted and the mother. We're no longer invested in Ted and Robin.
Ted spends no time grieving over Tracy. And that is, for me, the worst part. Yes, I know. Six years. But the viewer has no time to grieve over Tracy. I don't mind that Tracy died. Actually, I think it was a good decision. It was a good idea...until they ruined it. No, I don't mind that Tracy dies, I mind that Ted then, to our eyes, immediately says, "Oh, well. At least I can get back together with Robin now!" In addition to this, the absolutely ATROCIOUS acting from both Radnor and the kids in that last scene was difficult to watch.
If there's one thing the show was ever good at, it was making people laugh. It never pretended to be groundbreaking, like Mad Men, or beautiful, like the Sopranos, or having seemingly flawless composition, like Breaking Bad. It made people laugh. And this episode seems to even fail at that. There is one joke, albeit one the best in the show "I can't believe this. I kept this story short and to the point..." that made me actually laugh, and the blue French horn, as cute a gesture as it is, should've never happened at all.
Next time someone decides to end a romantic sit-com, remember to not EVER do it like this.
Mad Men: The Suitcase (2010)
On Par with "Ozymandias"
That's right, I said it. This episode is as good as the legendary "Ozymandias" from Breaking Bad. It's not better, of course. Nothing can ever be BETTER than Ozymandias, because Ozymandias is absolutely perfect. But I'm calling it a draw. I'm sure it goes without saying: this is the best episode of "Mad Men."
Why? This episode is perfect. And to give you an idea, I have rated over 500 episodes of TV, and only SIX have gotten a 10. So this is pretty impressive. Not even "Shut the Door" got this score.
And since there's no other fair comparison, I'm going to be comparing a lot of things in this episode to Ozymandias.
We'll start with the writing. It's phenomenal. This is the greatest character death in a show since the finale of Six Feet Under. Maybe even better. And it gets in own episode. The episode is devoted to Anna. And yet, interestingly, she is never mentioned by name. Don and Peggy's argument is the best dialogue I've ever seen in Mad Men. As well, just the way the episode works is beautiful. At the same time, it's both quietly tragic and harsh, bitter and raw. The episode is fittingly titled The Suitcase, which is, not for nothing, a great title. I loved the scene with Duck and the scene with Peggy's family. So much great stuff happened in this episode that it makes you think, "wait, that was ALL in THIS EPISODE?" Of course, it also has a beautifully simple parting line, "Open." Other dialogue is great, too, particularly when Don says, "The only person in the world who really knew me," and Peggy replies with, "That's not true."
Now the directing, which is the best in Mad Men history. Sure, other television has it beat by a little bit, but come on. The camera-work we see in this episode is awe-striking. There's Peggy waking up, there's Don's breakdown, there's Don and Peggy moving place to place, their argument, the dream sequence, the final shot, the first shot when Peggy was just gonna be 15 minutes late, the phone call... just everything is great.
Finally, the best part of the episode: the acting of Jon Hamm and Elizabeth Moss. It is some of the best acting I've ever seen. It rivals Cranston and Gunn in "Crawl Space" and "Ozymandias." And that's saying a lot, because Cranston's breakdown in Crawl Space is what I consider to be the greatest acting ever. And this comes surprisingly close. While both Hamm and Moss are really, really stellar, the better performance does belong to Hamm, if only because he's going through worse stuff than Peggy and it's slightly harder. But either way, the acting is world-class from both performers. Hamm's highlight reel is "That's what the money is for," his rambling about the fight when they should be brainstorming, the dream sequence, the final scene, and of course, the best acting in the show and up there in television history, Don's breakdown about Anna. Moss' highlight reel consists of her conversations with her family, her talking to Don about that, breaking up, comforting Don during his breakdown, and the argument and her own breakdown in the bathroom.
I would say more, a lot more, but there's a 1,000 word limit, so I'll leave it at this:
I could not possibly give this episode any higher praise. It has reached the limit, standing alongside Ozymandias, of how good television can be. Nothing will ever be better. You can't be better than perfection.
Mad Men: Waldorf Stories (2010)
Over the Hump
This is episode #45 of "Mad Men." Counting the two-part episodes as only one episode, when you finish watching this episode, you are exactly half-way through the show.
Congratulations.
The episode is unlike anything we've ever seen in Mad Men. Don's character, for once, is... different. Not "Gypsy" different, more like drunken fool different. And a drunken Don Draper only causes mayhem.
The acting, particularly from Jon Hamm, is fantastic. Especially in the first half of the episode. We always knew he had a big ego, but he had never been so obvious about it. It's also a brilliant way to set up "The Suitcase," the episode that follows it. Make us laugh here, while we still can.
The writing is also great, with the particularly memorable line from Peggy, "stop staring at women who will never stare back." Shots fired, Peggy Olson. The idea that the writers had to have them have essentially a contest to see who will break first ("break" referring to putting their clothes back on; they were working in the nude after Stan called clothes unnatural) was a very interesting choice. It's "Mad Men," so it probably symbolizes the nakedness of their emotions. I don't know. Some sh*t like that. The point is it's unlike anything we've seen in the show before.
Also, fittingly for the half-way point, we get to see how Don got his job at Sterling Cooper. However, these flashbacks were like those in "Lost:" confusing. Did Roger actually say welcome aboard? I honestly don't know. Frankly, the flashbacks were poorly executed. Half the time, I didn't realize they were entering flashback. But, I will give credit where it's due, which is to the makeup team, who did a great job of making Draper and Sterling look just a little bit younger.
Enjoy the next half of Mad Men.
Mad Men: The Chrysanthemum and the Sword (2010)
On-and-Off
It is better than its predecessor, "The Rejected," but not by a whole lot. It just barely earned eight stars as far as I'm concerned, and it didn't seem up to "Mad Men" standards.
The episode features a number of events regarding Sally, played quite well by Kiernan Shipka. It's also the first episode in a while that we've been January Jones (Betty). The show pulls off something quite well, and that is that we ARE either Betty or Don, depending on what makes the story flow. We tend to know what they know and feel what they feel. This is further illustrated as us specifically not seeing Sally's conversation with the psychiatrist, as well as making us feel like Don in the sense that as soon as we see Betty, it's because there's a problem.
This installment is not without humor, as well. Some of Roger's crude and offensive remarks, as little as I'd like to admit it, prove very funny, and of course Sally's "I know that the man pees inside the woman" is the funniest line from a drama I've heard in a long time.
The other event taking place here is Roger Sterling's fight with the Japanese. What was good about this is that the writers have mentioned this a bit before. It's never been so forward, but they brought it up once or twice, so we wouldn't be completely caught off guard here. However, I thought the scenes with the Japanese clients was a bit strange. Half of the time, they spoke through the translator, the other half they spoke in broken English. Pick one. I did like Roger's apology and found it interesting how Bert treats him like a child. And the last shot of the closing door, a subtle homage to "The Godfather," a movie which is clearly a very heavy influence on the show, did not go unnoticed.
But, even with all that being said, the rest of the scenes in the episode seem to be either filler, unimportant, or repeating the same points. It's rather lackluster.
Frankly, the best part of this episode is the title.
The Walking Dead: Try (2015)
A Highlight of the Season
"Try" is, very simply, fantastic. Season five of this show was certainly the show's best, and frankly, it rivals seasons of "Mad Men" and even "Breaking Bad." And this episode is among the best.
We all knew that eventually, things in Alexandria would take a turn for the worse, and we probably figured that it would happen here, in the penultimate episode, but that still didn't prepare me for it. For acts one and two, all seems to be well, at least by "Walking Dead" standards. They even threw in a little romance with Carl to make us smile. And then suddenly, Rick and Pete are crashing through a window.
Before I criticize, I must give credit where it's due: to Andrew Lincoln, Chandler Riggs, and Michael E. Stratazemis (the director). Riggs did a nice job in his one and only scene, proving himself once and for all as a serious actor, Lincoln did an phenomenal job in the last scene, visibly having gone insane. Bryan Cranston would be proud. But the highest praise goes to Stratazemis for the directing and cinematography. Usually, I don't watch television and notice how well something is shot, but here I couldn't help it: the directing is the best we've seen in the show since "The Grove."
And now for the complaints. There were only two things that held this episode back from attaining two more stars: realism and Sasha. First, realism.
I refuse to believe some of the events in this episode. For one, the odds that whenever Rick tries to do the right thing, it ALWAYS ends up making him appear to be the bad guy are tiny, tiny, tiny. In addition to this, I find it hard to believe that even Pete would hit Carl so hard. The show's story has happened over the course of a year and a half now. Carl can't be more than 12 or 13.
Now Sasha. Maybe I have the unpopular opinion here, but I believe the writers have made Sasha an unlikable character by playing her as really, two different people. Half of the time, she's awesome, and the other half vulnerable. Sasha has the right to be sad about Bob still, but that doesn't justify this much time being spend on her sadness. Especially in such a tense episode, it feels like shameless filler. Like they're saying "We're five minutes short, so... hey, Sasha is still sad! Remember that?"
But really, this episode is fantastic.
Mad Men: The Good News (2010)
Shall We Begin Nineteen Sixty-Five?
This episode featured two actors operating on full steam: Jon Hamm and Christina Hendricks. The episode, ironically named "The Good News," contains some news that is the worst we've heard in the season so far. Anna Draper, Don's first wife (it's complicated), has cancer. As her niece puts it, "It's everywhere." Not only that, but Anna doesn't know about it.
This is very simply the best acting I've ever seen from Hendricks. In particular, I'm referring to the two scenes she shares with Lane, going from quietly angry to furious to furious at someone else.
The episode is also far from humorless. Don and Lane's drunken spree is some of the funniest writing in the show. Sandra delivers "I don't know what that means" perfectly. And of course, Joan actually falling for the diversion before a needle.
But of course, it's all on the backdrop of an event that rocks the foundation of the show: Anna's cancer, and the fact that Anna doesn't know about it. It presents a moral question that seems easy to answer at first, but in their shoes it would be a difficult task to ask yourself this. Do you tell Anna about her cancer? Our instincts say yes immediately. Of course you tell her. I'd rather hear the bitterest truth than the sweetest lie. But on the other hand, it seems hopeless. She doesn't have very long to live. There's no chance of even a partial recovery. Why taint her final weeks with dread? Let her live our the rest of her life unburdened. Then again, it feels creepy to keep her in the dark. After all, as Don puts it, "What's your plan? One morning she wakes up in agony and you tell her it's over?"
And behind all this is New Year's. It's interesting, because it's a holiday, and this is (I think) the first episode where we don't see Betty even once.
The creators should be proud of this one.
Lost: Homecoming (2005)
More Good than Bad
This episode had a lot of "bad" in it, too. For one, there's the fact that these people don't seem even remotely interested in an explanation for why there might be a polar bear on this island. Claire probably wouldn't have gotten amnesia, but even if she did, the odds of her remembering pretty much EXACTLY up to the moment of the crash, are, well, pretty slim. Also, people with amnesia don't just remember things that made them happy or horrified, they remember random things, so remembering peanut butter is not a sign that it was a significant event.
I have to praise two actors and ridicule two. Hollway, who played Sawyer, was fantastic in this episode. Really, truly brilliant. So was Emilie de Ravin, who played Claire. However, two integral characters were portrayed not-so-well. William Mapother, playing Ethan, just did a terrible job. I hate to say it like that, but it's true. He shows too little emotion. And that's okay if you're good at it. Moriarty from Sherlock portrayed little emotion, and he's fantastic. It's very difficult to play a character like that, and Mapother just doesn't have the chops. The other criticism is for Monaghan, playing Charlie. I don't know what it was about his performance, but I didn't believe it.
Anyway, this episode was very topsy-turvy in terms of quality, but it earned eight stars.
The Twilight Zone: A Penny for Your Thoughts (1961)
Refreshingly Light
There are shows in which you never expect there to be humor because there never is. "The Twilight Zone" was one of them, at least until this episode, which was, frankly, quite funny, appeared.
The highest praise goes to the writing, incidentally not done by Rod Sterling. While the episode does eventually take a darker turn, as it must, the beginning is quite entertaining, with my favorite joke being him walking up to this young woman, and not hearing anything, because she isn't thinking anything, just waving around money. It cracked me up.
Of course, the episode does have flaws. For one, at what point does he hear people's thoughts. Does he have to be close to them? Or just paying attention to them? And of course, at least in my experience, and I have discussed this with a few people, people don't generally think in full sentences, they think in images. They also don't spend so much time thinking about one thought, at least not usually. A million different thoughts rush through their brain. Why doesn't the main character hear those, too?
But other than those logistical flaws, this is a brilliant episode. It never intends to scare you, which is somewhat strange for "The Twilight Zone," but what it does is poses two questions, the first of which is: Was this a blessing or a curse? I mean, there are little perks. Your love life instantly becomes easier. You can comfort people without them giving a painful explanation. But on the other hand, some things you might not want to know about. There are no more surprises. Pretty lies become bitter truths. Those you thought care about you may actually not. The other question it poses is the moral dilemma present here. Is it decent for him to take advantage of this, or should he purposefully seclude himself, to avoid invading privacy. I mean, it is a little creepy. You know people's fantasies, desires, and things they would never really do, but knowing that could ruin a relationship with a person. But on the other hand, he didn't wish for this. It's not really his fault. He can't be expected to destroy his personal life and cut himself off from humanity because of something that happened by accident.
In my mind, there is no right answer to those questions. But I do believe that this episode was a perfect example of the wit in The Twilight Zone.
Mad Men: Public Relations (2010)
"Smoke Gets in Your Eyes".... All Over Again
No one ever expects season premiers to be good. That's because they rarely are. "Chapter 14" and "Blood Money" are rare exceptions. So is this episode of "Mad Men."
Now, this isn't on par with the other two examples I mentioned; not even close. But it is much better than your average season premiere. Even your average "Mad Men" season premiere. Of course it's a let- down from the previous episode, because, well, how could it not be? "Shut the Door" was very near a masterpiece. What this episode does is something that's very hard to do in television: begin a new plot, and at the same time, advance it.
And I think it's because of how big a deal this episode is. This is less of a season premiere, and more of a pilot episode. The show is completely different. We're no longer watching "Mad Men," we're watching a show about two recently-divorced people, one of whom is starting a new advertising agency. It feels like the first episode of a show, and that's why it's so good. Because while SEASON premieres are usually bad, SERIES premieres are almost always good. And that's what this feels like.
It's not "Mad Men" at the top of their game, but the writers can be proud of this episode.
The Usual Suspects (1995)
Relies too Heavily on its Plot Twist
8.0/10
People were constantly recommending this movie to me. I mean non- stop. And it makes sense. I absolutely adore Spacey, I love crime movies, I love plot twists, and I love Giancarlo Esposito (he's Gus from Breaking Bad. He plays the FBI agent). But alas, this movie didn't have the same spell-binding effect on me as it did on most people. Why? Because I totally called it.
I called it from the very beginning. And I'll admit, towards the end I said "oh, I'm wrong. I wonder who it really is." But at the beginning I thought it was going to be Verbal, and I was not at all surprised when I turned out to be right. How did I call it? Because it's goddamn Kevin Spacey playing the role. He (and Esposito, but he wasn't an option) was the only one in the cast who was good enough to pull of that role. So of course I called it. They wouldn't hire Spacey to just play a one-dimensional fool. They'd hire him to play a mastermind, with the guise of a one-dimensional fool.
People love this movie for the twist at the end, and I don't blame them. It works. It's a great twist. But since it didn't work on me, I can firmly stake my claim that this movie is very little without its plot twist. It's all in the story. Sure, Spacey is fantastic, and the camera-work is nice, and the writing is good, but really, it's the story that makes this movie great. And while I understand the importance of a good story, I am not alright with movies depending solely upon a plot twist that is obvious because of its casting.
After all, let's say this movie was full of nobodies, but Verbal was played by Jack Nicholson. Wouldn't you suspect it's him from the beginning? It's the same thing.
I understand I'm biased because the twist didn't work on me. But I'm also biased IN FAVOR of Spacey, so the way I see it, it evens out.
The Walking Dead: Spend (2015)
The Most Gripping Episode Ever
This is the most gripping episode I can recall, and only three episodes of the show so far are better than this one (The Grove, Days Gone Bye, Coda). I wasn't expecting much going into this episode. It absolutely blew me away. I give out 9/10 ratings very rarely. This episode is worthy of that honor (really should be an 8.6, but rounds up to 9).
So, what made this episode so good? Well, it wasn't the plausibility. While everything else in this episode shines, I had a difficult time believing that this is, in fact, how things would go down. I didn't buy the speech about Satan, I didn't buy Carol in any scene (that's not the actress' fault, it's the story's fault), and most of all, I didn't buy the man talking to Rick saying things like "we've lost stuff." It's the zombie apocalypse. No sh*t you've lost stuff.
But aside from that, this episode was damn near perfect. The acting was downright fantastic, particularly from Melissa McBride (Carol), and Steven Yeun (Glen). The writing was... again, I had a hard time believing some of it, but that didn't make it any less enthralling. And what really makes the episode shine is the directing.
To all the film snobs declaring war on the episode saying "It broke the 180 rule!," well, you're right. It did. And it made it a little confusing, but I assure you, the creator of the show was the director of "The Shawshank Redemption." It was on purpose. I'm, of course, referring to the INGENIOUS revolving door scene. Specifically, Glen's reaction to a very gruesome death. One shot, he's on the right of the frame. The next, he's on the left. While this isn't 'wrong,' it's frowned upon in film, because it tends to confuse the viewer. And it did, but in this case, that's good. We should be confused. Directors are allowed to break rules; so long as they do so on purpose. And that's what this was.
All in all, the endgame to the fifth season has officially kicked off, and if this episode is anything to go by, it'll be one hell of an endgame.