Whatever's On

Doctor Who, Series 7 Premiere

I would love to do a write up explaining just how marvelous Doctor Who is, but I would never be able to do it justice. One thing that’s on everyone’s minds at the end of tonight’s series premiere (to anyone who has yet to watch this week’s episode, I quote River Song in advising you to stop now; “spoilers”): Jenna-Louise Coleman, who are you? How are you, the next companion, supposed to join the Doctor through time and space if you are (a) a (near?)fully converted Dalek? and (b) supposedly destroyed along with the rest of the Dalek Asylum?

Also, can the character you played this week be any more attractive? Undoubtedly a genius (even if she didn’t actually “hack” the Dalek pathweb, she still made them forget who the Doctor is), extremely witty, flirtatious, dresses like a modern Carmen with red sneakers to complete the outfit. Oh, and she bakes soufflés (which is always attractive, however terribly they might come out). Please, please be this way once you become the full fledged companion Clara Oswin from tonight’s Oswin Oswald.

The Amazing Spider-Man

(after 3 weeks I’ve finally found the time to write something! too bad i did all this in an hour… after having first gone out to drink for a friend’s birthday right after i watched the movie. Excuse any poor spelling or grammar, for this was, as usual, written straight through)

Let me right out say that I am always more critical of anything Spider-Man than I normally would be. I grew up with Spider-Man as my role model, and he stands as such to this day. Most of what I’ve ever done in my life can somehow be traced back to Spider-Man, whether it be my sense of morality, or the fact that I study literature and philosophy (Spider-Man’s tragedy being one of my favourites) (also, before I realized that it was the story I was most interested in with respect to Spider-Man at about the age of sixteen, I studied the maths and sciences ridiculously, hoping I would one day be able to recreate the circumstances by which Peter Parker gains his spider-powers). Spider-Man helps me live. I witness how he always try to do the right thing, out of a naive altruism in which he always comes last, and am able to both admire and pity him simultaneously. I’ve always considered his willingness to put everything aside and help others for the sheer reason that he can as undoubtedly the correct mantra to live by. But this wasn’t the Peter Parker or Spider-Man that appeared in the just released reboot. James Vanderbilt, the writer, has misinterpreted the dutiful responsibility Peter feels with one of cause and effect, error, and some sort of cosmic karma where everything balances out.

Although the line is reworked in the movie and not perfectly quoted, the entire movie acts as a play on the now all too famous line from the end of Amazing Fantasy #15, “with great power comes great responsibility.” As seen through gag after gag of Peter accidentally causing serious damage to property (and the more fatal damage to his family life with the death of uncle Ben, a tragedy that can be traced back to Peter’s actions in more than one way), Peter doesn’t know his own strength, to use the cliché which is all too obvious in the film even though the line is never used (NB: Lines such as these were all used in the original films, if my memory serves me correctly). How can Peter know just how “responsible” he is if he isn’t even sure of just how much power he has? The problem is, he doesn’t. Whereas Peter typically thinks his power so great that, since he can, he must help anyone and everyone, this movie version of Peter only cares to fix the problems for which he is directly responsible. After Uncle Ben is murdered, Peter’s rampage does not immediately follow; his hunt for Ben’s killer becomes his raison d’être when crime fighting, nabbing shoulder-length blonde criminal after criminal, checking if any of them have the distinguishing tattoo as the one Ben’s killer had, and even letting some of those who don’t go. In one of the movies many instances of dramatic irony, Peter tells Captain Stacy over dinner that he believes Spider-Man is simply trying to help, as though it were out of the goodness of his heart, and is not a vigilante or anarchist as Captain Stacy suggests. The fact of the matter is, Captain Stacy’s judgement of Spider-Man is absolutely accurate this far into the movie; all he wants is to avenge Ben. 

Enter the Lizard. You would think that a giant, humanoid lizard who is causing havoc on the Brooklyn Bridge would be menace enough that Peter should want to stoop him, but, as Gwen patches Peter up from a severe scratch inflicted upon him by the Lizard, he admits to her that he has to stop the Lizard because he created him. Were it not for Peter, Curtis Connors - who is always referred to as “Curtis” which somehow sounds more English than “Curt,” thus making his English accent feasible - would have never had the Decaying Algorithm which made it possible for him to make the serum that turns him into the Lizard. Peter doesn’t really seem to care about anything else other than the fact that in some respects he is to blame for the terrors that New York is facing.

Part of the reason why Peter is so upsetting in this film is that they had all they needed to make it into a superhero ranked nearly as high as the Dark Knight. Dr Connors could have been an excellent foil to Peter. The serum he seeks to create is not meant to only regenerate his missing limb, but he ultimately helps to cure mankind of all ailments. When the serum turns him into the Lizard, he maintains a twisted remnant of his former consciousness, which considers itself and everything about the Lizard superior to the human Connors. He then hopes to spread the serum over New York so that all of humanity might be superior. The idea is still the same - make humanity the best it possibly can be - but what counts as humanity has transformed along with his physical transformation. Connors’ “power” is scientific knowledge, and if he can use it to help humanity, then he has no other choice but to do so. To see how Peter differs from this, lets consider an early scene before Peter gains his powers: Peter standing up to Eugene “Flash” Thompson as he picks on someone. What Peter does is stupid, but it’s also brave, especially since he does it for no reason other than knowing that Flash’s actions are wrong. Although he has no physical strength at this point (he actually takes quite a beating), he knows that it is still his duty to help those in need. After he gets his powers, however, regresses from an altruistic sensibility to one resembling the construction worker, who eases Spider-Man’s course towards Oscorp for the final showdown with Lizard only because he realizes that Spider-Man saved his child from a falling, burning car. Would karma have been so kind to Spider-Man had that man not been on the bridge earlier? or had he been working a different shift that day? This is especially upsetting when considering the first Spider-Man movie, which I am in no way much of a fan of, but which does have some pretty fantastic moments, like the one when Spider-Man is holding onto both a tram full of Girl Scouts and Mary Jane while hanging from a bridge, all the while Green Goblin is attacking him, and just when it seems all hope is lost, a bunch of New Yorkers start tossing their groceries to distract Gobie. Why do they help? Because they know that’s what Spider-Man would do, because it’s the right thing to do.

Well, there isn’t much hope that Peter will ever learn his lesson; he never caught the criminal who killed Ben, he doesn’t regret any of the harm he’s caused to others thus far. Of course, there was still one chance for Spider-Man to redeem himself. As anyone who knows Spider-Man mythos may have predicted, Police Captain Stacy was undoubtedly going to die in this movie. He has to. He and Gwen, his daughter, are two of few characters in all comic lore who never (somehow) came back to life after they died. As it was originally written, the Captain somehow figures out that Peter Parker and Spider-Man are one in the same. He gets badly wounded in a skirmish with the Green Goblin and, in his dying breath, asks Peter (though he is in full guise) to protect Gwen. Vanderbilt reinterpreted this scene as well, and replaced “protect Gwen” with “stay away from Gwen.” In some sense, by staying away from Gwen he will be protecting her, especially when considering that she is also bound to die at the hands of the Green Goblin (and arguably Spider-Man). But “protect Gwen” suggests that Peter should not stay away from Gwen, but actively pursue her safety and act as her guardian webslinger now that her father is no longer present to do so.

Well, Peter keeps his promise, and stays away from Gwen even as she mourns the death of her father. But audiences would rather a happier ending, and Marc Webb will never cease to satisfy those needs, no matter how much they might undermine the rest of the film. Gwen quickly figures out that Peter is avoiding her because of a promise he made to her father, and the two continue to not speak to one another. Having walked into class late, Peter promises his teacher that he’ll never be late again, the teacher says some line about promises, at which point Peter whispers in Gwen’s ear that the best promises are meant to be broken. Not only does this suggest that he won’t obey Captain Stacy’s dying wish, but also that Peter has learnt absolutely nothing. Spider-Man’s purpose for wearing a costume is to protect his family and friends from the villains who might try and do harm to them if they found it his secret identity. In this movie, he only wears a mask because some criminals claim that they’ll remember his face and attack him if they ever see him again. The only person’s safety he wishes to protect is his own.

This isn’t a Spider-Man movie, but a skeleton for any superhero movie which happened to have Spider-Man as its subject. They failed to capture Peter Parker’s character traits, his personality, his motivation, etc., everything that makes him who he is. I will add one last thing. This came off entirely as a criticism, and anyone reading it must think I hated this movie. I didn’t. There are many good aspects to it, like the wonderful live-action stunts, the setting-up for the sequel, and a number of others. Yet none of them really make up for this crucial flaw in Peter’s character.

Mad Men 5.13 (Season Finale)

Episode title: The Phantom

“His life with his family was some temporary bandage on a permanent wound.” —Pete Campbell

After first watching the finale, I was left feeling a little underwhelmed by it. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good episode, but there were two things that left me feeling slightly disappointed. The episode was a little disjointed in areas, unable to totally come together, like usual Mad Men fare. The other problem was the lack of a strong narrative to close with. The bottom line is that The Phantom was not Mad Men at its most compelling. Then again, the show doesn’t need tricks to get us to madly yearn for its return. A whole year of waiting will no doubt be torturous.

The episode starts with Don and the (maybe too on the nose) toothache he’s suffering with. This plot device was used as a symbol to hammer down the theme the writers were trying to convey. I’m not sure it worked, but at the same time, it didn’t bother me to the point of ruining the storyline. To tie in with Lane’s suicide, throughout this episode, Don is having hallucinations of seeing his late brother, who also killed himself. As I suspected last week, Lane’s death hit closer to home, causing his guilt over Adam’s suicide to rise to the surface. After Adam’s apparition tells him that his tooth isn’t the only thing that’s rotten, Don’s actual tooth is extracted. Don is carrying so much inside him, that you wonder how long it will take for him to completely succumb to his turmoil. He has this underlying feeling that he brings people down around him, which is why I think he tries so much to appease his second wife, so she doesn’t turn into another Betty, or someone more tragic.

Speaking of Megan, we get an even deeper look at her, and with doing so, we start to question some of her character traits. Something The Phantom was very successful in doing, was dissecting the character of Megan Calvet, and makes us wonder if we didn’t really know her as much as we once thought. First one of Megan’s aspiring actress friends wants a favour from her; she hopes that Megan can talk her husband into considering her for a part in a commercial. What the friend has requested is obviously crossing the line, but then Megan takes this as an opportunity for herself, telling Don to consider herself for the part. Don is understandably perplexed because he rightfully believes that Megan doesn’t respect advertising; she’s supposed to have a love for the art of acting. He explains to her that she wants “to be somebody’s discovery, not someone’s wife.” This is the one time I had to agree with Don, in regards to Megan’s dream of acting. These wise words should’ve affected Megan as well. It did, but not in the way that I would have thought. She goes through her own downward spiral, the first time we’ve seen Megan totally lose control of herself. Her aura of pleasantries and positive energy is gone, and replaced with misery and a dejected attitude. It is not an attractive quality of hers. In the end she gets her wish, and she’s the leading lady of a commercial.

But how did we really get there? At one point, while she’s fretting about Don not wanting to do the favour, she tells him that he wants her to wait on him, basically indicating that he only wanted a good little housewife, and I agree with her wholeheartedly. The problem is, under this certain circumstance, it plays out more like a manipulative tactic, a classic way of making him feel bad until he does exactly what she wants. Again, she does it when she says the only thing she’s good at is sex. Does she really believe that or is she trying to put on a show to gain power over the situation? From this episode, it is clear that Marie does not truly support her daughter’s passion, and she even calls her an ungrateful bitch at a certain point, but what are we to take from this? Marie does not think her daughter has talent, and in fact states that her daughter should be having kids, and give up on her lofty childhood dream. There are so many interpretations to Megan’s actions and mindset, and this is what I love about the show. You can have so many perceptions about a character and their actions and they could all be correct, unless the show decides to eventually confirm or dissuade your assumptions. Megan is definitely the key person in this last episode of the season. When Megan excused her to go to the bathroom after Don first said no to what she was asking, she stood in front of the mirror and started shaking ever so slightly and then began to cry. For some reason, the scene from an earlier episode came to mind: the one where Megan is innocently teaching Sally how to cry on cue. It made me wonder if I had been all wrong in my prior reading of Megan. And that’s the thing, I can’t be certain, but it put a seedling of doubt in my mind. The way Megan behaves throughout, wallowing, crying, whining, drinking, drowning in self-pity; she comes off as more of a child. She has not been seriously trying to pursue her acting for very long, but yet she’s already at the end of her rope, and looking for shortcuts, undervaluing her talent, by participating in work she doesn’t believe in. It was also very insightful when Don blamed Marie for Megan’s drunkenness, as if she were a child needing to be coddled. Marie rightfully responded that it wasn’t her job anymore to take care of Megan, Don is her husband now. This could have been the moment of self-awareness for Don, that there would be more of this in the future. Megan is still young and this is how young people sometimes behave. One of the most striking scenes was when Don was looking at Megan’s luminous screen test and it appeared that he was enchanted with her again. To me, this proves that Don truly does love her, and wants the best for her. I watched this scene over and over, not only because I loved the imagery so much, but because I was trying to figure out its significance, what it was truly telling us. My mind has travelled to many scenarios: he saw a talent in her that he hadn’t recognized in her before. He realized that she is that good of an actress and perhaps she has been playing him. Or that he comprehends that he has to give her this chance and let her go. That smile that turned to a little bit of reflective sadness seems to be telling us something, but what?

The only other character besides Don and Megan to have a major arc in the episode is Pete Campbell. He has been the saddest character all season, longing for a life in the city, and trying to hold on to a time when he felt significant. I can’t lie but Pete’s affair with Beth was not a favourite storyline of mine, but this episode highlighted Pete’s unhappiness in a volcanic way. Having one last afternoon in a hotel room with Beth before her electroshock therapy, you actually believe he may be in-love with her, as he tries to convince her to come back to bed. Then to have her electroshock completely wipe her memory of moments with him, was heartbreaking to say the least. Pete pretends he is visiting a friend at the hospital, a man who is forlorn and unsatisfied with his life. He has one of the greatest monologues the show has done. The way he expresses himself gave us a rare intimate look at the inner conflicts of Pete Campbell. It was heavily insinuated that he had been feeling closed in for quite some time, resenting Trudy and their child in the process, for changing him into the kind of suburbanite he dislikes. But now it has been disclosed that he isn’t even sure of what he wants, and the more distressing part is that he might not ever find it. And for that brief moment where we might have thought he found love in Beth, it is dashed when he admits “he needed to let off steam. He needed an adventure. He needed to feel handsome again.” He confirms that Beth’s presence in his life was just a distraction, as are all the other women he has or attempts to have affairs with. More astonishingly, is that his family is also in this category. They are tools to make him forget his deeper internal problem. Pete is anxious to find the cure to his ailment, but has been unlucky in locating it, whatever it is. And every time he makes an attempt, it causes more disillusionment, because it is never the solution. Ironically, after he returns home battered and bruised, after picking a fight with Beth’s husband, Trudy finally gives in and allows Pete to have a home in the city. Trudy thinks this is the solution to their unhappy marriage, but we know better. This is just another bandage.

Peggy shows up briefly in The Phantom; just enough for us to know that she is respected at her new job and is facing new challenges. When she runs into Don at the cinema, the two of them are genuinely happy to see each other. She reveals her guilt about moving on with another firm and wonders if Don is upset with her. He was her mentor and “that’s what happens when you help someone; they succeed and move on.” Could this be the reason why he inexplicably gives in and gets Megan the commercial job? This line reading made me wonder if he realizes Megan will not remain in his grasp; she will move on, and more than likely it will be without him. This is enhanced with the image of the other most striking scene of the episode, Don walking away from the commercial set: he is strolling away from the brightly lit sound stage, the hallway is dark. It’s almost as if his marriage is being swallowed up and he knows it. We then hit to a bar, and Don’s whole demeanour of this season, has been transformed. It’s like looking at his earlier season’s embodiment; something is definitely familiar, but a little unsettling. A young woman approaches; asks for a light, he obliges and now the soon to be iconic saying, “are you alone?” is uttered by this woman, encouraging him to meet her friend, who is obviously interested. The way Don turns his head in that sly way of the past makes us think his infidelity days may have returned. We cut to black and that’s the end of a solid season.

No more Draper and company until next spring. Hopefully it won’t take seventeen months before we take a peak into the thriving ad agency and its troubled occupants. Season five has been a rather bleak one. There were an abundance of underlying themes of sadness, coveting, failure, regrets, and tragedy coursing throughout the episodes. If I were to look over Mad Men in the sense of overall season arcs, this may be my favourite season. It could be a tossup with Season three, which I found to be flawless, every episode being exceptional. During this season, there were some episodes that M and I would disagree on, but overall I really enjoyed the thematic structure of Season 5, as it travelled to bleaker and melancholy terrain, in retrospect to the social change in America at the time.

—Darryl 

Mad Men 5.12 (In Response)

Episode title: Commissions and Fees

“What is happiness? It’s a moment before you need more happiness.”—Don Draper

*M’s analysis was spot on; this is just another take.

The heavy theme of this penultimate episode and actually the entire season is losing the person you once were. Take a look at the characters and you’ll see that the majority have shed their previous personas and now seem to be in a crisis where they can hardly recognize themselves. Some of these changes are intentional, others involuntary or unplanned. Regardless of the cause, it is very present, and most of the characters are conscious of it, even if it takes time to sneak up to their awareness.

I’ve had my suspicions that the show was toying with the idea of Lane Pryce committing suicide. After references or imagery throughout the season of empty elevator shafts, high-rise balconies, strangulation hallucinations, sensationalized murder coverage, and subtle mentions of suicide, I suspected with anvils such as these, someone would be killed by the finale. Because of these allusions, the likely candidates seemed to be Lane, Megan or Pete. I really only narrowed it down to Lane due to the bizarre manner of conduct he’s been possessing as of late; he was truly behaving like a desperate man. You could feel his anxiety over the huge weight of financial burden. Even with the mindset that Lane’s plight could possibly unfold in this tragic way, I was still shocked and surprised with the way it played out.

I will miss Lane. He was a character I enjoyed getting to know, and he was a favourite of mine. M may not care for the game of favourites; I do. The minute Lane looked out from his high-rise view at the snow-covered city, subsequent to his humiliating firing and rejection of Joan, I knew that by episode’s end, Lane would kill himself. However, I didn’t think it was the actual moment Lane realized he would. Before writing this response to M’s review, I watched the episode a second time, something I encourage Mad Men viewers to do. While doing so, I picked up on something I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t watched again: when Lane wonders aloud about what comes next and what his alternative will be, Don tells him in a straightforward fashion, “Think of an elegant exit.” Of course, Don only meant to come up with a respectful way to resign, but I think Lane had darker interpretations of the harmless statement. During the first viewing, I believed Lane’s own thoughts of suicide were triggered by his wife’s purchase of the Jaguar, but now in hindsight, I think these specific words from Don were the cause. Obviously Don didn’t recognize how hopeless Lane had become, but I truly believe that Lane took these words to heart, and in some way wanted to spite Don for saying it, which is also illustrated with the letter of resignation in place of a suicide note. In Lane’s state of grief and thought process, he wanted Don to blame himself. Those words from Don which were meant as encouragement and poise, being the catalyst for Lane’s undoing. By the expressionless look on Lane’s face as he exits Draper’s office, you could see that the man had made a decision to take his own life. At that instant, he knew it would be the last time he’d see Don. Interestingly, Lane’s “exit” was far from elegant, as suicide never is.

The scene also makes us sympathize with both sides, understanding either’s points of view. Lane is not truly a contemptible person; he even implies that Don was the chosen one to deceive because he was the most decent to him, as ironic as that may be. It’s his pride that defines him and gets in the way of him making smart and avoidable choices. Lane buys too much into the grandiose idea of the American Dream, which M touches on in his review. We’ve seen examples of this countless of times, as he is so absorbed in what he thinks it is to be an American. He’s living above his means, inhabiting in a lavish apartment, sending his son to private school, all in the name of building himself up into someone of self-imagined importance. We see that he begrudges Don for not having to worry about money. It’s saddening to hear him admit that he was operating on a loss for three years, while Don has been throwing money around. He’s right when he points of that without him, the firm would not even be in fruition. He was one of the central reasons for keeping them afloat. However, as Don indicates it isn’t enough to wipe the slate clean. Don clearly admits that he can’t trust him. As much as we sympathize with Lane and may want to see some slack come his way, it is just not a realistic or intelligent option. Some of the goings-on at the agency may be suspect, nevertheless the seriousness of extortion and forgery are in another magnitude. Don, all too well knows that the reinvention of oneself is achievable, his very existence being an example of that, even in the way he got hired by Roger in the first place, tricking him to get the job. Unlike Don, Lane puts too emphasis on how others view him, therefore he cannot fathom the inventiveness of starting over.

M didn’t mention Sally in his review, but I find her inclusion is essential to the overall theme of “Commissions and Fees.” Sally is a defiant and precocious child, but she so desperately strives to be older beyond her years. I’ve always wondered if Sally’s continued closeness with Glen has more to do with Betty’s forbiddance of seeing him, than her actual interest in his friendship. Sally behaves like a grownup, as most kids experiment with, but we are always served hints that she is not as mature as she may like to be. Megan is not a parental role model to Sally; instead she treats her like she’s a friend, causing Sally to buy into as well, like they’re on equal footing. She orders coffee and talks about boyfriends, because she thinks it is how adults behave. When getting ready for her reunion with Glen, she puts on the same boots Don prohibited her from wearing a few episodes back. (Nice job on the continuity, show). Sally Draper is one of the characters I talked about earlier, who leaves their old self behind, though not in the way she expects. She enters womanhood, after getting her period, yet she runs home to her mother, the same woman she has been chastising and complaining about the entire episode. With Betty’s suggestion that if something like this were to happen again, to ask another woman, Sally’s hasty reply is that she doesn’t want anyone to know about it. Sally, who has spent all season, thinking she’s grown up enough to handle mature life moments, is now reduced to the little girl, who is underdeveloped emotionally to deal with these types of circumstances. We’ve seen hints of the very same thing before, with Sally’s revulsion at witnessing Roger’s tryst with Megan’s mother, another thing she couldn’t totally comprehend. Sally may have wanted to leave her old self behind, now she has no choice but to. She has changed even if she wishes she hadn’t.

It may seem like a throwaway line when Roger admits that his enlightenment has worn off, but it only means that his temporary change is now behind him, another part of fitted allegory to the theme. It was nice seeing Ken playing hardball with Roger, getting him to throw Pete off the Baxter account. I suppose that he still has hard feelings against Pete, who he suspected was the one who told Roger about his writing. He also got to get one-up on Roger in the process. Ken seems to be the only person who is staying true to himself, building himself with integrity, and not sinking to dastardly levels, like he witnesses at work, hence his disinterest in becoming a partner because of “what’s involved.”

One last observation I made while watching: When Don realized that Lane’s corpse was still hanging from his office, without hesitation, Don rushes over to cut him down. Yes, he feels guilty over Lane’s suicide, blaming himself for it happening, but I also think he was thinking of his brother’s suicide and his part in it as well. He rejected his brother and with Lane leaving behind only a letter of resignation; it is a clear indication that he is somewhat the cause of this death as well. Don will now be haunted by his “involvement” with two acts of suicide, and just like his brother’s passing, he will keep the reasons a secret, once again carrying the guilt around, for only himself.

This was truly a great episode, giving you lots to think about in the process. Then again, I always find myself sharing that same sentiment each and every single week.

Game of Thrones: 2.10 (Season Finale)

Episode title: Valar Morghulis

“I’ve done a lot, haven’t I? Things I never imagined myself doing.” —Theon Greyjoy

Well show, you have done it to me again. There is too much to comment on but I will try my darnedest to clearly express myself. It’s possible I am the only fan who had no idea this was the season two finale, prior to watching. I only realized it two minutes before my viewing pleasure, due to a self-promotion announcing that very thing right before it started. As you know by now, I hold GoT to the highest esteem, but now with this added knowledge, my anticipation went from excitement to outright expectations of greatness.

GoT’s second season was highly ambitious and opened up the playing field on a grander scale. Various characters were introduced, adding to the already vast roster of people to keep track of. Motivations were more complex. The central theme of the desire and almost unattainable yearning for a seat on the Iron Throne were enhanced with more lethal, poisonous and ruthless machinations, pushing the show in more unchartered territory and versatile boundaries. Reflecting on the first season, I’ve gotten the impression that it could be viewed as an introduction or maybe even a prologue to what the show is really about. Achieving this by giving us a feel for this world, allowing us time to digest, while we invest in the multitude of characterizations, locations, political intrigue, mysteries, supernatural elements, intricate and complex plots, as well as making us experience this underlying sensation of uneasiness and agitation. This is the stuff of Greek tragedies. After last week’s focus on one location, this week’s episode may be more difficult to recap, as it is the type of show that is fragmented because of its various settings, playing out more in the vein of short films.

I prefer the style of observational writing when reviewing a TV episode, so that will continue to be my approach. We open the episode with an extreme close-up of Tyrion’s eye (very reminiscent to the iconic shot associated with cult-classic LOST). Tyrion has been informed by a somewhat smug Pycelle that the Lannisters have defeated Stannis Baratheon; he is no longer the King’s Hand; has been replaced by his father; his guards have been relocated, relieved of duties or have pledged loyalty to other members of his family; he is banished to a cramped and filthy room to recover from his ailments. Additionally, Pycelle tosses him a coin “for his trouble,” a bitter reminder of when the elderly man was at his mercy a few episodes prior. This is all done in one scene, one very effective scene. Tyrion has gone from a very powerful individual to a man with pretty much nothing. It is a difficult scene to watch, only because Tyrion may be one of the few rootable characters this show has left. It is very poignant when he later tells Shae that not only is he is an imp, but a “monster” as well. I believed that Tyrion would turn into a self-pitying martyr and that he had lost his fight. It was good to see I was wrong. He likes outsmarting corrupt people, enjoys the game of being a step ahead; he’s not going anywhere. It may appear impossible for this “half-man” to succeed this feat, but if you’ve been paying attention, he’s a crafty one, a master of manipulation, obviously a powerful tool in the game. I, for one, can’t wait to see what he has up his sleeves. Bonus: it was nice seeing a genuine romantic and tender moment between two lovers that feels authentic (unlike Robb and Talisa) and non-rampant with doom (Ned and Catelyn, Daenerys & Khal Drogo).

Season Two has managed to make Theon Greyjoy the character I’m most interested in watching. He was a bit of an afterthought in the early days, but during this season, he’s had many moments of insight; in fact he’s one of the most heavily featured profiles. This episode once again portrays that he is probably the most tortured character in the GoT universe. My favourite scene in the entire episode featured his rare bout of inner honesty and emotional vulnerability, where he opens up to Maester Luwin about his resentment at being treated as a son instead of a prisoner, for which he truly was. Although I really enjoyed getting an insight into something already suspected, I wish he could’ve finished what he was going to say regarding his father’s mistreatment. (Ugh, that damned horn blower). ‘Tis true we can already imagine what it would’ve entailed, it still would’ve been nice to actually hear it. Theon really is a man with zero options. He puts a lot of emphasis on what his family thinks of him, something most of us subconsciously define ourselves by, even if we wish not to. Another highlight with his scenes was the confirmation of his awareness of being a dead man walking. It had never occurred to me that Theon was able to recognize his detrimental situation and the precariousness of his fate. It was a satisfying revelation to see that he was truly apologetic and regretful for the way he handled things, wishing he could give up the charade of the false persona he evokes, yet he’s clever enough to know that no matter how much he hopes to make amends, he had “gone too far to pretend to be anything else.” It made it all the more tragic to watch him make that impassioned battle speech, knowing fully well he was putting on a performance, and not really feeling his own words, and then more so after he’s betrayed by his own men. Speaking of those men, we’re left with the death of Maester Luwin, a character I will sorely miss, and the mystery of if they were responsible for the burning of Winterfell. My gut tells me that they didn’t commit arson. If they did, I’m not sure I understand the motivation.

As much as I have a love affair with this show, I can still be critical of it. The storylines of Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen have been weak this season, major disappointments from the awesomeness of their first season introductions. During this episode, one of them rose up to the Season 1 status, while the other remained slightly above average. Daenerys, you won me back. She finally reincarnated her season one mixture of vulnerability and dominance. She entered the creepiness of the House of the Undying, in all its hallucinatory glory, kind of a channel to her subliminal thought process: Iron Throne, threat of the Wall, but the most astounding and surprising of them all was her reunion with Khal Drogo and her doomed child. This was the second best scene of many. Drogo is terribly missed; in fact all the surrounding characters from her season 1 and early season 2 arcs are, including her psychopath brother and Dothraki entourage. With Daenerys reunited with her dragons and her soon-to-be promising acquisition of a ship, she is back in the game, and in tip-top shape. Unfortunately, it took a convoluted storyline and whole-season detour to get here. Jon Snow, on the other hand, has become so milquetoast and bland, it’s hard to care much about what’s going on with him. I don’t dislike him; it’s just that he isn’t being written with much depth, as of late. On the other hand, I had to wonder if he killed Halfhand because he finally realized it needed to be done, or out of a loss of temper. It’s nice to finally have questionable observations concerning him for a change, instead of this tiresome fixture of predictability.

Other brief observations:

Was this the first time we’ve seen Sansa smile this season? What a welcome gesture. It was a great moment to see her relieved of her betrothal to the maniacal Joffrey, but then come to the realization that it didn’t necessarily mean her freedom, as aided by Littlefinger. “We’re all liars here. And every one of us is better than you,” he says, putting a kibosh on her brief stint of optimism. Also wondering how Margaery will fare with her new arrangement as Joffrey’s new bride. Suppose she’s closer to her aspiration of becoming the Queen. Does she know what type of animal she’s linking herself with? Can she handle herself? Why do I get the feeling that she can?

The “WHAT THE…??” moment of the episode: Jaqen literally morphing into a whole new identity. Whoa.

Stannis actually showing remorse for murdering his younger brother, Renly. There you go again, show, demonstrating that even the more despicable characters have consciences. That is, until he saw his future or whatever it is he witnessed, in the fire. Very curious about this one.

Robb marrying Talisa, slicing the agreement he made to marry the Frey daughter. I get this sneaking feeling that his days are numbered.

Varys’ new alliance with Ros is an intriguing one. He, also being the source of the best line of the night: “Littlefinger looks at you as a collection of profitable holes.”

Sam and his encounter with the White Walkers. Is this the end for Sam? What a truly chilling ending to a hurricane of a season.

That’s it, folks. Game of Thrones ends another concrete season. I keep promising myself I will read the collection of source materials, which are collecting dust on my bookshelves. Just like this time last year, I fear I may not be able to wait until next spring to find out what occurs next.

—Darryl

A Price to Pay

Mad Men 5.12 “Commissions and Fees”

How much one must give to succeed in life? And how much of a toll does the world take out on you?

There’s no point in beating around the bushes; tonight’s episode of Mad Men has given the audience yet another blow with a loss of yet another major character. Lane Pryce, with whom SCDP would never exist, had given up after Don’s discovery of his embezzlement and forgery and demand for his immediate resignation. Last week I argued with a friend of mine over whether or not Mad Men will feature a suicide. While I was strongly against the idea, not only was she sure it would happen, she was convinced that Lane would be the one to do so (although she suspected it would be down Chekhov’s Elevator Shaft). Well, now that it’s happened, the only thing to do (after I bow down to her superiority) is to talk about it. 

Lane’s suicide, I’m sad to say, comes at an almost shallow level, and is probably why I was so against the idea. He feels as though he’s failed at life, what with his having accumulated huge amount of debt, his inability to send his son to private school, his losing his job, his failure in seducing Joan (a last ditch effort for some sort of happiness). Most importantly, he’s failed at becoming American. Don has no problem telling Lane upon firing him that the feeling he feels his relief, because Don has been in that situation several times himself. “I’ve started over a lot,” he says in an attempt to comfort him. “This is the worst part.”

But starting over is easy for Don, because it is part of who he is, and who everyone else in the office is. Even the few that were born into wealth, like Roger and Pete, still grew up in the typical American teachings of working from nothing towards success. Pete has been climbing his way up since the very first episode, pushing more and more people down with every wrung with Roger (who has always been on top but can keep working his connections to get others higher) as his latest target. Lane, on the other hand, has never truly made his own way. Things seemed to be on the rise for him last season, up until the moment his father came to visit him. It was a bit of a surprise that Lane’s wife should be with him this season when it began, yet it’s only fitting given Lane’s lack of professional vigor. He was placed in his position, first by his former employers, and then by the other partners of SCDP because they needed him. He never had to work his way up like the others did, and the thought of having to do so is impossible. He pretends to be assimilated, to be an American, posting a NY Mets flag on his wall, a miniature Statue of Liberty by his window, and other paraphernalia that only tourists would buy. As he looks around his office, spinning in his chair to face his view of Madison Ave., just having been fired by Don and rejected by Joan, he knows that he cannot do it, that he is not like Don, that he is not an American who can start with nothing and work his way up. The business has taken its toll on Lane, and he paid for it with his life.

When I wrote the title of this piece, I had a single second in which I replaced “Price” with “Pryce.” I found it distasteful as a title, but I do think the wordplay does reveal something about Don. This season has been a downward spiral for Don, foreshadowed by “Checkhov’s Elevator Shaft” in an earlier episode. Think of it as whatever you will - an abyss, a void, etc. - it doesn’t really matter. What they all share in common is that it is a means for falling, for losing everything in his life, or for losing his own set of values which he lives by. His world is shaken, and he needs to find a way to cope with it.

One possible way of doing so is by returning to what Roger refers to as “the old Don,” a Don who is hungry to succeed and won’t let anything stand in his way. After having fired Lane for the sake of the company (“What will our clients think if they ever heard about this?” was his question to Lane that suggests one of his main reasons for getting rid of him, along with Don’s no longer trusting him), he casually tells Roger to fire Ken Cosgrove if it means SCDP can get the pharmaceutical account run by Ken’s father-in-law. He works all weekend to prepare for the meeting which only he and Roger attend, at which point he tears at all the faults of his prospective clients. “I’d buy you a drink if you didn’t have so much blood on your mouth,” Roger says at the meeting’s end. 

Playing hardball like this is the price Don has to pay for The Letter. He believes he is marked like Cain, repelling any new business because none of them would trust their business with a firm that might do to them what Don did to Lucky Strike. “I don’t like what we’re doing,” Don tells Roger, complaining that the agency isn’t going anywhere commercially. The only way that the firm can grow and become one of the top ad agencies on Madison Ave. is by Don giving it his all, even if that means taking casualties along the way. It’s only too soon that Don finds out about his first casualty. Lane Pryce was the first price he had to pay in order to succeed, a death which Don must undoubtedly feel responsible for.

Burt Cooper tells Don that he can’t always play the part of the goodboy, leaving the adults to run the business all the time. Is this what happens when adults run businesses? Women prostitute themselves to win accounts, and colleagues hang themselves because they were too proud to ask for help? It is easy for the adults, Pete, Roger, and Burt, to have a clean conscience and pretend to be good; none of them have had to pay a price. For those who have, however, Joan, Don, and Lane, deciding what’s good is a harrowing task from which no one comes out without blood on their hands. 

More than ever is the opening sequence of the show so fitting. Don continues to fall down while everything collapses around him except for the illusions of happiness offered by ads, lies that he himself creates. But will he fall down to sit comfortably in a chair, or will his fall prove to be more fatal? He tries to do right, bringing Lane down so that he might have some sort of dignity, but it is only another illusion. As Glen suggests, everything has turned out crappy for Don. The fact that Glen should find this out at such a young age disturbs Don, so he tries to make right as he did with Lane by giving Glen the one thing he wants at that moment, to drive the way back to his school. What will Don do when the car ride ends?

(Disclaimer: I didn’t write about Sally because her story, while probably relevant for her character and what might come, gave the same old “price of being a woman” with regards to an adolescent girl getting her first period. I don’t mean to make it seem so trite - we do see her growing quite a bit, and much can be said - but it felt disparate from the other stories)

-M

Snow White and the Hunstman

Websites like Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic are designed to showcase which movies we should embrace and which ones we should avoid like H1N1. These web pages lay out film reviews and analysis from a multitude of critics and bloggers in order for you to make the smart choice or be forewarned. I, myself have occasionally used this as a catalyst on what movies to feast my eyes on. Sometimes you go see the rotten-reviewed movie anyway. Snow White and the Huntsman is currently at an average of 45% on RT and 57 out of 100 on Metacritic. Unfortunately for this fairy-tale inspired film, this isn’t one of those times I believe the ratings are wrongfully reflected. 

I will be honest and admit that Snow White and the Huntsman was not on my must-see list. In fact, I assumed I’d eventually catch this on satellite or a Blu-Ray at a friend’s house, not watching it on opening night. Admittedly, it was a little intriguing to find out what approach this film would take on the beloved fairytale; with that said, it wasn’t enough for me to rush out and view it. Backstory: my two cousins wanted to watch it, and the options presented to me were either this flick or Battleship. In that respect, I believe I made the smarter decision. Though my preference in movies tend to swing into the indie or Oscar-hopeful direction, sometimes it’s just fantastic to see a good ‘ole fun blockbuster to make the time pass. Who doesn’t love that? The Avengers or Hunger Games anyone? Two recent tent pole blockbusters that had me mesmerized and wanting more, especially the former. (Hoping that Prometheus and the epic conclusion of the Batman series also resonate).

Back to the task at hand. I’m going to assume that you’ve seen a trailer or TV spot for this movie or at least have a basic familiarity with the classic tale, and not bore you with a play-by-play synopsis. Let’s first talk about the good things about SWATH (not a great sounding abbreviation, mind you). Primarily, Charlize Theron was the absolute best thing in this; the only main performer to stand out. She’s the only one who added layers to her delightfully evil character. That is one of the problematic factors of SWATH—all the characters were one dimensional. They could be easily summarized with bullet points. I know I’m reaching here: blockbusters are not known for being multidimensional and character-driven, but do the characters have to be dull and tedious clichés as well? Okay, I said I would focus on the good. Theron was truly frightening in this role. She commanded and owned every scene she was in. She had the cold and ruthless look down pat, by manipulating her expressions, mannerisms, posture and eyes. Watching her, you never found yourself looking away. The movie dwindled when the camera wasn’t trained on her; scenes without her entirely, were not as compelling. The actor, Sam Spruell, who plays the Queen’s brother, is also noteworthy. He plays creepy in top-notch form, managing to make your skin crawl, such as the underlying themes of incest between him and his sister, in addition to his closed off moment with Snow White, where the viewer has trouble predicting where the scene is leading. He adds to the mood of sinister unease, something this film desperately needed. Arguably, he, the actor and the character, could even be more terrifying than the Queen. 

The visuals and cinematography were another highlight. No one can watch this and say it isn’t gorgeous. From the costume attire to the backdrop of the land, both in the light and darkness layout, to the imagery with set props like the infamous mirror or poisonous apple. The majority of the movie was a feast for the retinas; optical porn, for a lack of a better term. Probably the best and smartest gimmick for this movie, because without it, the weakness in the screenplay, character arcs, and bad pacing, would have been more painfully obvious and transparent.

On to the bad. It is true that it has become a humorous pastime for some, to hate on Kristen Stewart and her acting abilities. It would be less funny if she was a capable actress. To be frank, Stewart was lifeless in this role. She seems to have serious trouble emoting. Theron’s character is supposed to be the cold one, yet the way Stewart plays this, it’s hard to feel anything for our titular protagonist. Snow White is an iconic tragic figure, but this version of her plays out like a spaced out stoner. It is not my intention to write the type of snarky review that heaps ugliness and offensiveness on an actress, but her way of emoting is allowing a single tear to roll down her blank-faced statuesque stare. When the film finally kicked into high-gear, trying to shape Snow White into some sort of badass, it came off as false and flat. The film would have probably felt a whole lot different with a more suitable actress playing off of Theron. Chris Hemsworth was also bland in this. While watching Thor, a film I really liked, I got the impression that a star was born. That stardom is not able to shine through in SWATH. I may blame that more on the script and character, than I would on his actual acting. His character was so one-dimensional you could practically spout out his next lines or map out his further actions. He was laughably clichéd; the least fleshed-out role by far. He could be easily defined: drinks a lot, makes snide remark, mercenarily carries his axe, looks annoyed, reverts back to step one. And it didn’t help that his eventual love interest had more chemistry with her childhood friend than she did with him, making the romance angle fizzle. Guess it didn’t concern my cousins, who appeared to be visualizing Hemsworth as his former character of Thor, while watching this movie. Hey, that’s not a bad idea: maybe Thor should have made an appearance; it would have given the film a much-needed jolt of adrenaline. The other characters in SWATH are not even worth writing about.

One funny thing I overheard and then read after the movie (wonder if it was from the same person) was that the battle scenes and political intrigue reminded them of a bad episode of Game of Thrones. I wholeheartedly agree and I thank that person for being able to illustrate it more articulately than I ever could have. The battles and fight scenes looked so amateurish; strange for a big-budget film (its estimated budget being $170 million). I could not get over how rehearsed it looked; it took me right out of the scenes. You could practically see the stage directions: stand right here, duck his punch, okay now raise your sword, now stand there while the bad guy punches you, etc., etc. I expect more from a film of this stature.

The worse offender was the pacing. Long stretches of the same scenarios playing out over and over without any payoff, then other scenes where we visit Theron’s character for a couple of minutes, either shrieking, looking miserable, or twiddling her thumbs, and then going back to the other characters for extended periods of time, before we even return back to her. This would not be an issue if this was a character study film; it is a problem however when you’re making a film that’s supposed to engulf us the whole time we’re in attendance. That was the major flaw with SWATH. To begin with, the movie lacked a compelling angle, but it was worse at keeping the story going, in addition to being fresh and interesting. The execution was sluggish, dismal, and almost comatose. Too much time spent on a whole lot of nothing.

Overall the movie wasn’t terrible. It was just glaringly average. Theron and the prettiness of the film saved it. Perhaps you should go watch it and make your own conclusion. I would be very curious to discuss it with someone who enjoyed it. I have no idea if M watched it, or if he even plans to. To sum up the movie in two words: beautifully empty. On the plus side, there was one thought-provoking moment I got out of it:

What’s with Hollywood’s sudden interest in the tale of Snow White?

—Darryl

Cinema Verite

(April 2011. Dir. Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini)

(NB: This post is replete with spoilers, as all my posts are getting to be. If you don’t mind, then go ahead and read. Otherwise, I’ll just say this: you have to see this movie)

Rarely do I watch the same movie twice in one week, so the fact that I watched Cinema Verite for a second time within twenty-four hours of my first viewing is a testimony to how good this movie is. Starring Diane Lane, with great supporting roles from Tim Robbins and James Gandolfini, the movie gives a dramatized behindthescenes look at the making of the 1973 PBS documentary “An American Family” which portrayed the lives of the members of the Loud family over the course of several months. It is now thought of as the first instance of reality TV presented to the American public.

The opening of the film introduces the documentary as a groundbreaking moment in American history for that year, alongside US withdrawal from Vietnam, and the Roe v Wade hearing. As Craig Gilbert (Gandolfini), the producer of the documentary, suggests as he’s pitching the idea to the network, mankind has “gone to the moon and beyond, but we’ve yet to get past the American front door.” He intends to study an american family in much the same way anthropologist Margaret Mead (of whom he just finished making a documentary) studied the Samoans. But, as we see Mead herself suggest in an archival clip near the end of the film, the American public does not look at the Loud family documentary as a form of art, but criticizes the members as people. An objective distance is not maintained; looking at the screen, people found not only the failings of an American family, but it called into questions the values of the American family. The Louds became the visual representation of every household in America, an illusion which they themselves fall into. “We can’t get divorced,” the youngest daughter sobs. “We’re the American family.”

The turmoil is partly the fault of Craig, who, in his desire to make a sensational documentary, acts as the catalyst towards Patricia’s (Lane) and Bill’s (Robbins) divorce. An eloquent orator, Craig’s motives aren’t easily grasped. They might be entirely selfish, since he and Pat develop a romantic relationship on an intellectual level, with hints that it may have gone further within the quadruple space. Or, whenever he confront Pat about the steps she must take to leave her cheating husband, he does so by picturing her as a role model to “all the women who are out there and who are in the same position as you are right now. But they’re alone, and they’re lost, and they’re scared. And you can show them what to do.” As he watches the dailies of the divorce scene, we wonder if he had actually done it all for the show. Though he appears insensitive, forcing the crew to capture the heartwrenching scene in which Pat reveals to her brother that she is about to divorce Bill, even after they refused on compassionate grounds, he is right; the audience needs to see real emotion if they are to sympathize with the Loud family at all.

I can’t speak for the original documentary, but Cinema Vérité is successful as it is because it includes versions of what happened after the camera turned off. Although the camera is supposed to be invisible, it never truly is (with the possible exception of the aforementioned heartwrenching scene, parts of which are cut in throughout the movie). From the moment the crew starts filming, the family members are all uncomfortable and put on some sort of show. At times, this involves a decoration of what’s happening, or a masking of what one truly feels, or just walking out of a scene altogether so as to not embarrass themselves to the world. Other times, the family members ensure that the scene is being filmed as to sensationalize it, not unlike what happens on present day reality TV. In one scene, the Fiesta, Pat has the camera crew record her conversation with Bill in the middle of a town party as she confronts him about his adulterous ways (supposedly after she may have herself just had an affair with Craig). As their fight escalates, not only do they forget that the camera is present, but that the rest of the town is too. This scene parallels the first time we see Pat and Bill fight, at which time they tried to speak as objectively as possible and ended it as tempers escalated. Not much has changed since then (Pat always knew about Bill’s affairs but just looked the other way), yet the scene now feels necessary for Patricia.

Patricia’s original intention to take-part in the documentary was to try and put an end to Bill’s affairs. She hoped that “if Bill couldn’t live up to the truth, he’d at least live up to the façade,” the “indestructible image of the Loud family” she had, much like their family Christmas Card. Yet, we are also given a sense of the resentment she feels towards Bill when she discusses Margaret Mead. “She’s dead-on on gender roles; father’s are biological necessities, but social accidents.”  Does she also then agree with Craig when he quotes Mead as saying “I don’t believe in using women in combat; the females are too fierce”?

It is unlikely, for Patricia, while ruthless at Bill on occasion, is the one most sensitive to his feelings. In a last ditch effort, she tries to ensure that Bill does not come home the night she intended to inform him of the divorce before the camera. She is concerned for his pride and dignity. The Loud family is no longer indestructible as a whole, but that is no reason to destroy any of its members. 

In their ultimate suffering, no member of the Loud family, not even Lance, the eldest son who had aspirations of fame, wants to be filmed. The audience is given a glimpse into the “true American tragedy,” a tragedy which is all too ubiquitous, both then and now, but is still shunned under the canopy of the American ideal.

-M

Game of Thrones reference via Parks & Rec

A Somewhat Slight Nitpick (regarding G-o-T review written by M)

Flabbergasted, I tell you, flabbergasted. Somehow I never knew about M’s indifference to Game of Thrones. This HBO fantasy series is appointment television. It’s a guilty pleasure without the guilt. It’s TV at its most ambitious. GoT is one of my favorite shows currently on the air; it has the potential to be one of my faves of all time. In all fairness, I doubt it will trump my trio of worshipped TV dramas: Breaking Bad, Six Feet Under and The Wire (but it may breakeven). Okay, a little disagreement can be fun, and of course people are entitled to have opinions other than my own, but M, I can’t relate to some of the points you made. (To make it clear, I have not read the source material, so I am not one of those fans who have a backdoor investment with the subject matter, in case you were wondering).

It appears that GoT has lost its appeal on M because many of the plot points of the debut season have somewhat resolved itself. In his review, he also mentioned the lack of cliffhangers in the sophomore season. Yup, I’m paraphrasing what he wrote, but these statements are a bit of a head-scratcher. Are the two of us watching the same program? Sure there are no longer many DUN-DUN-DUN moments at the closing of an episode but the overall theme of the second season is grander, so there are no reasons to play out the cliffhanger angle. Besides there are so many new things to look forward to, as we watch the stories play out. My explanation for the difference in feel and tone is that in season 1 the show mostly followed Ned Stark around, using him as a sort of tour guide to the strange happenings of this mysterious world, giving us a feel for things. (SPOILER ALERT, then again if you haven’t seen Season 1, doubtful you’d be reading this). When Ned was executed, the paradigm shifted; we’ve become wary, there is an underlying sense of unsettlement, and the intriguing plot opened up in a more complex manner. Plus it was the instant we truly understood that no one was safe. We are now in new territory, even though everything still looks familiar. This leads me to something else M insinuated. I don’t find the show predictable at all. Maybe I am dense (could be) but I seriously can’t foresee where these stories are going, and I love the show for honestly making me believe it. A problem that I tend to have is imagining how storylines and plot points play out, creating a formation of what I think will happen, ahead of when it’s possibly going to happen. With GoT, I am content with having no idea the resolutions to anything, similar to my past viewing pleasure of LOST.

(Since I internally promised myself that this write-up would be somewhat brief and failing catastrophically), I need to touch up on the most glaring assessment: the characters are two-dimensional. If nothing else, come away from this knowing that I strongly disagree. Sure, the characters of Jon Snow and Joffrey may begrudgingly fall into this category: one is almost too self-righteously good, the other maniacal evil, but pretty much all the other characters are shades of grey. None of these people can be perfectly defined. Every single one of them can do something that will make you sympathize, empathize or appreciate, and then they turn around and spoil it with their actions or lack thereof. Fantasy is a genre that tends to clearly map out who you should be rooting for, as well as who should fail. The lines and roadmap are not clearly drawn on GoT. “Blackwater” was the ideal example. I have spent most of Season 1 and the entirety of Season 2 thus far, wishing for the comeuppance of Cersei and her monstrous son, Joffrey. Yet when the battle of King’s Landing finally occurred, I found myself wishing the Lannisters be victorious, thereby siding with Cersei and Joffrey by association. Then when it did happen the way I had hoped, I immediately felt sour once it slowly seeped in what this could possibly mean. This episode had me feeling sorry for Cersei while she was contemplating murder-suicide with her youngest son. This mere fact that I could feel compassion for this woman, is proof enough to me just how complexly drawn I find these characters. Sansa, someone who in the past I’ve been indifferent about, has shown just how strong-willed, snarky and mature she’s grown. Exemplified with her shared scenes with Cersei as well as when she slyly told Tyrion to fight alongside her king. It was a defining moment for the character as well as demonstrating how far the show has come.

Shallow note: the battle scene was glorious. I did not expect it to be the sole focus of the whole second half. It was a pleasant surprise, considering the series seems to shy away from the visual details of combat. Even so, I am sure there will be more battles unfolding on screen (as well as between M and I).

—Darryl