Television: Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., "Scars" & "S.O.S. 1 & 2"

Let's just lump all this together, shall we? I mean, I had a lot of thoughts while half-watching all this (because it just isn't interesting enough for me to give it my complete attention). For one thing, it's all very X-Men. Mutants, here known as "Inhumans" versus "Normals" or whatever. Same ol' story. And then, too, they keep trying to twist it as if to surprise us, but nothing does any more. Oh, so Cal isn't so bad after all, and it's Jiaying who is Magneto evil? ::shrug::

The bedrock of the show is a bunch of dysfunctional relationships exacerbated by extenuating circumstances. Like, things that are annoying are made worse by everything else that's happening. A person who is normally high-strung becomes murderous. That kind of thing.

We knew Bobbi would make it, since we knew she and Hunter are being given their own spinoff. And we sort of saw Ward's killing his dog-like, devoted lackey coming, too. Ha ha! He did just what he wanted Bobbi to suffer for! God, he's stupid.

Actually, we're supposed to think of Ward as wily and clever because he needs to be a worthy adversary for next season now that he's the de facto leader of Hydra. (yawn) Are we doing this again?

I suppose the one really interesting bit is that Simmons was swallowed by that thing. And right before her first date with Fitz. What crap timing. Not that there's a good time to be eaten by an alien object, I guess.

Will I watch next season? I don't know. Might depend on what else is on and how full my schedule is. But S.H.I.E.L.D. has definitely fallen from my "must" list. I feel lukewarm about it at best.

Television: Gotham, "All Happy Families Are Alike"

Fish Mooney comes back looking all punk and gives Cat a makeover. Then they fight Maroni and Penguin and none of us cares much because (a) we know Gordon will live, (b) we know Penguin will live, and (c) we know Jada Pinkett Smith is leaving the show. So the end of this fight is more or less a foregone conclusion.

Meanwhile, Leslie wants Barbara to get counseling after the whole Jason thing, but Barbara insists the only person she is willing to talk to is Leslie herself. Already we all know this is a bad idea. The ex and the current girlfriend hashing it out? And it's clear Barbara is unstable. So when she starts talking about how she killed her parents and then pulls a knife on Leslie, well, we can't say we didn't see that coming. It would have been more surprising if it hadn't happened.

Nygma shows [more] signs of cracking up.

And Bruce discovers the Bat Cave.

All pretty basic. One wonders if they'll skip ahead a few years at the start of next season. Otherwise, this is moving at a snail's pace and I can't be bothered.

Television: Scorpion, "Postcards from the Edge"

When we last saw Walter, he was driving off a cliff.

No, really.

The following morning, everyone is irritated when they can't find Walter and he won't answer his phone. Boy are they going to feel bad when they find out what happened!

We spend most of the rest of the episode waiting for them to get Walter out of the car, which is precariously balanced on a rock ledge. Like, seriously precarious. Like, the movement of a crow on the hood of the car is make or break.

Oh, and also Walter has to self-cauterize a wounded spleen. Or something.

Meanwhile, Paige is ready to take Ralph for a weekend in Maine, only to get to the airport and see Walter and his Ferrari on the news. So off she runs, leaving her luggage at the airport. Dumb.

I know this is all about the feelings between Walter and Paige, but it comes across as so very manufactured. I can't take it seriously. They aren't making me feel it, and good writers would. Instead it's all paint by number character development and maneuvering.

Still, the show has done well and is looking at a second season. And I'll probably continue to watch, or half-watch, which is more or less what I do now. Hey, the network doesn't care whether I'm glued, so long as I have the TV on their channel, right? Good enough is good enough.

Television: Fargo, "Morton's Fork"

So I guess there was some fuss about feminism? About how Molly Solverson—after being set up as the smartest gal in the room and all—ends up not being the one to save the day? Cuz instead she's reduced to pregnant woman needing to be protected by father and husband or whatever?

I dunno. I mean, I've said before that I didn't really see Molly as all that to begin with. At best she was an example of slow and steady winning the race. She was smart in her way, and she did scuttle around the barriers when people told her to stop and drop it, but . . . ::shrug:: I just never could get behind her as a protagonist. It's like cheering for a C student because she's in a room full of failing classmates.

Some of the fuss stemmed from the useless Grimly suddenly being elevated to hero status when he acts on a hunch that allows him to corner and kill Malvo, thus slaying the monster of the piece. I'll admit it was odd to have Grimly, you know, do something. After doing a whole hell of a lot of nothing. But at the same time this illustrated the lengths to which he was willing to go to protect his family. The stark difference between Grimly and Lester Nygaard is that Les only thinks of himself, and that ends up being a large part of Lester's undoing.

The sum total of the series (this season, anyway) is: tortoises win. Molly is a tortoise. Malvo is a hare. Lester started as a tortoise but tries to become a hare, and look what that gets him. Hares run over everything in their paths and leave destruction in their wakes. Tortoises, meanwhile, plod steadily along. If you think about tortoises . . . They live a long time and exist largely untouched by outside forces.

Fargo was an interesting series—good characterization and character arcs, very nicely filmed—and I'm curious to see what the next season will bring.

Well, That Was Dumb

I have a series recording set on my DVR for Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. The show didn't air this week; instead a special about the Marvel Universe was on. You know, it talked about setting up Marvel Studios and mining the up-to-then untapped characters, like Iron Man, so they could make movies about them. And then how they pulled it all together, and how the TV show got looped in, and the forthcoming movies. All that.

I don't know all this because of my DVR. Here's where the dumb comes in: For whatever reason, they didn't set this special to record as an episode of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Now I know you're going to say, "That's because it wasn't an episode of S.H.I.E.L.D." But—and I'm just stretching here—I don't think it's beyond the realm of possibility that people who do watch S.H.I.E.L.D. might want to see the special. And if the special was hoping even just a little bit to get viewers more invested in the television series (which has fluctuating ratings) by tapping into their love of the movies, well, it needed to land on DVRs. Which it didn't. (At least, not on my Comcast/Xfinity DVR. I don't know how it worked for others.)

Since I knew about the special and had anticipated that my DVR would record it, when I found it hadn't I went to my On Demand and found it . . . Under Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Derp.

As for the special itself? It wasn't all that special. It was long and came across more like an infomercial. So I guess I hadn't really missed anything after all.

But, hey, for those still watching, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s season finale has been set for May 13.

Television: True Detective, "Form and Void"

I wasn't planning to write anything about the True Detective finale because I didn't feel like there was a whole lot to say, but people keep asking me what I thought, so I'll answer them.

While watching the episode, I was sort of reminded of those thriller horror films, the good kind that are tense and well made, like Silence of the Lambs. At the same time, though, I felt like everything came together a little too suddenly and easily . . . Though I suppose I should keep in mind the original case was from 1995, so really this was the culmination of years of detective work.

I also thought the ending was uncharacteristically hopeful. I honestly expected either Cohle or Hart, maybe even both of them, to die. There at the end, as Cohle was saying, "I shouldn't be here," I was inclined to agree. His big purpose in life had been fulfilled, after all. And now I'm just worried he's suicidal.

Consider: Cohle didn't really believe in anything. But his near death experience brought him into contact with feeling the love of his dead daughter and father. And waking up in the hospital seemed like a loss to him—a loss of that love and warmth he caught a glimpse of on "the other side." It's not so far fetched to believe he might try to get back there by ending his life.

Unless someone can convince him suicide is a sin and that it will actually prevent him from ever feeling that love again.

Well, whatever. I was glad that Cohle and Hart's story finished with them on good terms, and it looked as if Hart and his ex and daughters were also on good terms. I hope Cohle shaves his mustache though.

And now I'm looking forward to what comes next, though when you create something this excellent it is always difficult to maintain that degree of high quality. The fact that the show will come back with new characters and a new mystery will, I think, work in its favor. It is easier in some ways to put on a new tire than to keep wearing the treads on an old one. Nic Pizzolatto has hinted that the coming season will have stronger female characters and have something to do with transportation . . . Trains? Hobos? I guess we'll find out.

Television: Broadchurch, Episode 1.8

In the first series (season) finale, Alec Hardy's determination pays off as he figures out who murdered Danny Latimer.

Okay, well, the murderer does turn himself in and confess. But Hardy had already worked it out before then!

It turns out my theory was correct, and that the murderer was someone we'd met briefly and only seen from time to time. Still, I feel Broadchurch gave me a good run despite my having figured it out a few episodes back. (Last week, when people kept saying they thought they'd seen Nigel—that clinched it for me because in early episodes I'd remarked the resemblance between Nigel and another character, the one who turned out to be the murderer.) Even though they fell to that old formula that I've discussed so many times before, that sort of slight of hand in which someone is introduced then promptly disappears, here it didn't seem to matter. The viewer experience is so immersive that one often forgets to step back and think more broadly; we're too engaged and too drawn in. And that's wonderful. It's been ages since a show has done that to me.

So often shows, and especially procedurals, are too interested in putting on a song and dance and making themselves appear clever, and I don't know about other people, but I naturally resist that. It forces me back, at which point I can see right through whatever the writers and directors and actors are trying to put over on me. Broadchurch, however, had me leaning in rather than backing away. So kudos to them.

I do wonder what they'll have on tap for the next series. There is yet so much to explore in this little town. I'm already looking forward to another visit.

Television: Revolution, "The Dark Tower"

We're not even pretending any more—Revolution wants to be a Stephen King novel. Or maybe the writers just wish they were Stephen King. But it's like Stephen King by committee, which doesn't work very well.

Or maybe it's Stephen King by way of Michael Crichton, what with the malfunctioning nanites. They are everywhere, replicating out of control, and if Rachel shuts them down . . . It could end everyone and everything. But it hardly matters, since the Tower Cult won't let her get to Level 12 to do it.

Meanwhile, Monroe and Miles continue to fight, get washed down a pipe, and then fight some more once they're washed up. But when Monroe identifies himself to one of his Militia, the soldier takes a shot at him and runs off; apparently Neville's coup is taking effect.

As for the secret of Aaron's being in Warren's journal; The Tower's operating system is based on code he'd written while a student at MIT.

Rachel appeals to Grace to help her get to Level 12 and "flip the switch." When Grace declines, Rachel chloroforms her to get her access card. Seriously, there is evidently no shortage of chloroform in this dystopia. People have more access to it than they do to clean water.

In flashbacks we get the beginnings of Monroe's descent into paranoid madness, starting with vengeance against a Rebel who bombed a restaurant where Monroe and Miles were eating, doing (mostly superficial) damage to Miles, which Monroe took personally as this man "messing with [his] family." So Monroe has not only the Rebel but his wife and kids killed as well. It was all for Miles, apparently: "Everything I've ever done was for you!" Monroe tells him in the here and now. (This would be so much better—read: creepier but also more intense—if Monroe had a real crush on Miles.)

Back in The Tower, Aaron, Nora, Charlie and Rachel are working to figure out how to get past the crazies guarding Level 12. And in the Militia camp, Monroe is brought back to answer to Neville, who is now in charge. Somewhere in the background I'm sure I saw a painted "Under New Management" banner hanging over some of the tents.

But Neville, opting to lead via inspiration rather than tyranny, is planning to at least give semblance of some kind of trial for Monroe. But first: Hey! Someone's blown the front doors off The Tower! So of course Neville has to go check that out.

And while that's going on, Miles will come and rescue Monroe because, after all is said and done, they're still besties. He cuts Monroe loose and tells him to run, giving his old friend a head start as he shouts to let the Militia know Monroe is escaping. So into the night lopes Bas Monroe.

In the ensuing battle to get to Level 12, Nora is injured, and there is a small quarrel between Rachel and Charlie over whether to save Nora or proceed to Level 12. Charlie loses, meaning she is left with a bleeding Nora while Rachel and Aaron head down to flip the switch. When a Militia member finds Charlie and Nora, Miles is back just in time to save them. And Nora discovers that, though she thought Miles's heart was with Rachel, he chooses her. Well, he chooses to carry her. To the infirmary. But Nora dies along the way.

And Neville, upon arrival at The Tower, runs into Grace. "Don't I know you?" he asks. Taking Grace along for the ride, Neville and his men come upon Rachel and Aaron and Neville tells them to come with him and "forget about the power," but Miles and Charlie provide enough distraction that they're all able to escape and get into Level 12.

Execute Command?

And around the world, somehow the infrastructure has remained enough intact that lights and power return with little to no difficulties. Lights flicker on, ceiling fans start their lazy circles . . . And Monroe finds himself caught in an open field during a lightning storm.

Oh, but Randall Flynn is down in Level 12 too. And now that he has power, he can open up the missile silos and launch at Atlanta and Philly in a grand plan to wipe out the would-be despots and re-unite the States.

And then he shoots himself in the head.

And we see a shadowy figure, installed in the "United States Colony" in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba . . . His aide tries the lights and finds them working. "Randall Flynn did it. It's time to go home, Mr. President."

So apparently there is still some kind of United States and some form of presidency that has been sustaining itself over the past 15+ years?

Well, okay.

Next season Revolution moves to Wednesdays at 8:00.

Television: Smash, "The Nominations; The Tonys"

And now we say our sad farewells to Smash, which after two seasons is closing its curtains. The soapy musical was unlike anything else on television, which isn't always a good thing, though here I think they simply failed to find their audience. Or maybe they did find it, but it wasn't big enough to sustain the show.

As the series ends, we have Karen in Hit List going up against Ivy in Bombshell. Both shows are on Broadway, and both are gunning for Tony noms (and, ideally, awards). The writers of Smash tend to be very diplomatic—they like it when everyone wins so no "team" has cause to complains—so going in (I'm blogging as I watch) I'm curious to see if there is a tie of some kind in the future.

Things start off with Karen winning the Outer Critics' Circle award, and Tom getting the same for Director. Or, rather, here is at least one tie: Derek and Tom are co-winners. In fact, Hit List all but swept, with Bombshell winning only two.

However, Hit List is on the verge of sinking as Ana's lawyer starts swinging with a wrongful termination lawsuit (remember the Daisy thing?) days before the Tony noms. And in the meantime, Ivy is trying to decide whether to keep the baby—though when she tries to tell Derek, he gives her the brush-off; he's got plenty on his plate as it is.

Karen tries talking to Daisy, but of course Daisy defends her reasons for sleeping with Derek and then blackmailing him into giving her Ana's part. After all, Daisy has worked ten years to land a leading role . . . And when all else fails, I guess?

I was hoping in all this to be able to ignore the ongoing farce between Tom and Patrick Dylan, which is ridiculous without being all that funny. But it won't go away.

We also get a look at the escalating hostilities between Hit List and Bombshell as the media gets involved, printing quotes out of context, and fans take camera-phone video of ill-considered remarks. (Pervasive ideas include: Julia wrote more of Hit List than Kyle did, the only reason Hit List got so much attention is because Kyle died, Ivy is a mere imitation artist as opposed to a real actress, Bombshell is traditional and safe whereas Hit List is new, fresh, and edgy.) The Outer Critics' Circle luncheon ends in a roundtable of people spewing invectives at one another until Mama Eileen makes them all go sit down and behave.

Derek sets Ana up with a big audition (without her knowing, but when she finds out she decides to go public with her lawsuit against him . . . or threatens to . . . then changes her mind). When Ivy overhears Ana talking to Derek, she decides against telling him about the baby: "You've never done the right thing, Derek. And you never will." Well, he can't if you don't give him the chance.

Tony Noms: It's Kyle versus Julia for book. Tom versus Derek for director. Ivy has one for supporting actress in that Liaisons show and one for best actress for Bombshell. And of course Karen has a nod for actress as well. Totals: Bombshell 12, Hit List 13.

And just as Derek gets three nominations, he opts to come clean to a reporter.

END HOUR ONE

A ensemble version of Queen's "Under Pressure" proves very uneven.

Jimmy decides not to perform at the Tonys and fails to pick up his tickets for the show. We discover he's since packed up his apartment in preparation for a getaway, though Karen makes him promise to pick her up and go to the Tonys together.

And Derek? Holed up in his apartment, refusing to leave. When Karen can't draw him out, she sends in Ivy.

Seems like everyone's having to face up to something as Julia talks to Frank about her relationship with Michael. And Eileen finds out Nick has been released from prison some three weeks prior and tracks him down to get some closure.

Oh, and none of the supporting cast wants to perform with Daisy at the Tonys, so Jerry gives Daisy a solo. Birds of a feather . . . Fingers crossed she crashes and burns. Though she does end up winning a Tony.

Hey, remember when Ron Rifkin was on Alias?

Kyle wins for Hit List! Guess the writers of Smash wanted to make sure Kyle (and Jimmy) got his happy ending. Jimmy's acceptance on Kyle's behalf gets dangerously close to derailing when he starts talking about Kyle meeting Karen . . . But he manages to pull it together.

Yeah, that's your incidental music, dumbasses. (This is me to Tom and Julia when they win for Bombshell and are too busy chatting to realize it.)

Derek wins for choreography for Hit List. And thanks Ivy in his speech, saying she was the one who convinced him to go to the Tonys at all . . . And saying he loves her very much. (He also thanks the Tony voters for judging the work and not the man.)

Then Derek yanks Daisy from her solo and puts Karen and Jimmy in to perform. After all, if everyone already hates him, Derek figures it doesn't matter what he does any more. The number grows into an a cappella ensemble, very nicely done.

And then Patrick Dylan hits Tom and Julia up to write a movie musical. Tom, having developed a crush on PD, lands a kiss on him . . . And concludes PD isn't gay. (Well, and PD tells him, just to be clear.)

Ivy Lynn wins for best actress, which in the end makes sense because Smash began with Bombshell and should end with it, too—end with its success, and the unqualified success of one of its stars. It wins best musical as well.

The show coulda ended there. But it continues. Ivy talks to Derek and tells him about the baby. (And where am I going to get my Jack Davenport fix now, I wonder?) And Jimmy tells Karen about an O.D. he witnessed five years ago and that he turned himself in . . . Which is why he was clearing out his world. He's looking at some jail time. Julia gives Michael the letter about how much she's always loved him. Nick comes back to Eileen. Yes, "coming clean" is definitely the theme of this show.

And then we get a weird Ivy-and-Karen Smash duet? (I only say it because the big, lighted SMASH sign is hanging behind them.)

Well, we can't say they didn't give us some closure—at the least we get a sense of everyone's potential, the general directions of their lives. And we can't say Smash didn't entertain us. Sure, it was sometimes silly, sometimes downright dumb, but it was always fun. I'll miss it. There's nothing else like it on television, and considering how it floundered enough to make networks hesitate to take such a risk, there may never be again.

Television: Doctor Who, "The Name of the Doctor"

We watch Clara bounce through time in repeated attempts to save The Doctor. But apparently he's  never noticed her . . . Until now.

Also, some guy named Clarence (who seems to think he's Gollum) is in prison. He staves off execution by telling Vastra about The Doctor, giving away the location of The Doctor's greatest secret, prompting Vastra to make a "conference call." Jenny, Strax, Clara, and River Song all brought together via dream trance. But Jenny is murdered during their chat by some Buffy throw-backs who also threaten Strax and Vastra and tell Clara and River Song (you really kind of have to use both names with her, don't you?) that they must tell The Doctor to go to Trenzalore.

Apparently this is a bad idea, at least according to River Song.

The Doctor tells Clara it's where he's buried.

The TARDIS rears and bucks like an unhappy horse. (Good girl!) But The Doctor forces the issue and they crash land. In a soldiers' graveyard. River Song's grave is there, too. And a gigantic TARDIS, the TARDIS from the future, slowly growing like a rooted tree. And it is The Doctor's tomb.

Turns out River's (ha! one name! I did it!) grave is actually a secret entrance to The Doctor's tomb. But River really is dead, now existing only as so much collected data in a library.

The Great Intelligence, taking the form of Walter Simeon, brings Vastra, Strax, and a resuscitated Jenny to Trenzalore as well. He gives the age-old lecture about how The Doctor is really the murderer of millions, etc. He insists that The Doctor open the door to his own tomb. The Doctor is the only one who can do it, and the key is a word: The Doctor's name.

When The Doctor refuses, even as his friends are being heart-strangled, River Song speaks the name and opens the doors. (No, we don't get to hear it.) We do get to see The Doctor's "body," or basically what's left of his being, which is a collection of ropes of light that mark The Doctor's path, his travels through time and the universe. Simeon is determined to enter it, though The Doctor warns Simeon he will be destroyed if he does.

Simeon does it anyway, of course.

As he "rewrites" The Doctor's timeline, the lives and worlds The Doctor has saved begin to fall, cease to exist with no Doctor to have stood up for them.

And Clara realizes her duty is to go in after Simeon. Which is how, it turns out, she becomes The Impossible Girl. Fragmented over time in order to save The Doctor again and again.

And then The Doctor goes in after her.

Clara, having done her work (does this mean the Great Intelligence is finished? and are we ever going to get back to that Clarence/Gollum dude?), lands in a foggy part of The Doctor's "timestream," which is collapsing in on itself because The Doctor has entered it. He tells Clara he won't leave until he's got her, sends her the leaf that brought her parents together, is on the brink of saving her, and then John Hurt turns up.

Well, really it's The Doctor but without the name. That is to say, it's . . . the part of himself that never accepted, or perhaps rejected, his role as The Doctor. Kind of an evil twin, or one's dark half or whatever.

The Doctor (as we currently know him, in the form of Matt Smith) hauls Clara off. Apparently we're saving John Hurt for next season.

::shrug::

Not much of a story, really. After all the buildup about Trenzalore, I wanted and expected more. But the whole Anti-Doctor idea holds a modicum of appeal, if it's handled well. If not, it will likely play out like a bad soap opera. Guess we'll have to wait and see.

Television: The Office Series Finale

So after suffering through a couple weak and limping seasons, NBC's The Office finally closed its doors this past Thursday, and I'd say that while the conclusion was far from perfect I'm mostly satisfied.

The episode was structured largely around Dwight and Angela's wedding, piling on a "Where Are They Now?" panel as part of the aftermath of the PBS documentary. This is all occurring one year after the documentary's airing, mind, and the crew is back to get additional footage for the DVDs. How lucky for them, then, that most lingering questions were magically resolved on that very day! Nellie gets handed a baby (literally—how will she get it a passport, I wonder), Ryan and Kelly finally get together, Ellie finds her birth parents (Joan Cusack and Ed Begley Jr., the latter looking much like he's not sure where he is or why), and David is contributing to Oscar's senatorial campaign.

Oh, it's not all good news. Andy has failed as an actor (but is "happy" working for Cornell's Admissions Department), Creed has gone underground after the documentary leaves him open to a standing arrest warrant, and Toby and Kevin have both been fired, with Kevin now owning and running a local bar and Toby having moved to New York to be a writer—yet despite having six roommates, he's as lonely as ever.

In any case, the series finale tied things up neatly. If the goal was to learn where everyone ended up, it was achieved. If the goal was, however, to be satisfied with all the endings, then that's a matter of personal taste. I was glad to learn that Jim and Pam would be moving to Austin, not only because I lived there and love the city, but because I had not been altogether pleased with or sold on Jim's having forfeited his greater opportunities to remain at Dunder Mifflin. Better, then, that he and Pam came to a happy understanding—at least in my opinion. But things like this are so subjective . . . Many people may have preferred to see Jim and Pam stay, but I like the idea of growth and moving on, the end of an era (or documentary). I might have liked it if Dwight had invited Andy back to take Jim's place, but Andy had become so unlikeable by the end, and it would probably just have been awkward since Andy had once dated Angela. So maybe it's better this way.

Truthfully, The Office had lived a bit past its prime, so it was definitely time to say goodbye. I'll admit, though I'm no softie, I teared up a few times. And enjoyed the cats as wedding gifts. If the ending was a bit too pat in some respects, well, I'll give them a pass. Over at least seven out of nine years, the show regularly delivered smiles, so it comes out in the black in my ledger.

Television: Doctor Who, Season 7 (so far)

Okay, so there have been five episodes thus far this season, one for each Saturday in September. And now we must wait for the Christmas special and then whatever comes in the late winter or spring. I'm kind of fine with that. I have an odd lack of impatience at this point, having become used to the long hiatus gracing all things Steven Moffat.

As a whole, these episodes have been largely uneven in tone and texture. The Doctor, as portrayed by Matt Smith, has been especially off with these strange bouts of rage that (a) don't suit this particular Doctor, and (b) don't suit this actor, either. Matt Smith =/= intimidating in any way, so to believe others would find his ire a deterrent is difficult. Meanwhile, Amy and Rory had already begun to peter out well before the Angels took Manhattan and forced them off the stage.

I suppose the big to-do is over how The Doctor has managed to wipe his slate clean by deleting himself from all, what, databases? Human memory? It's not 100% clear, though it smacks of Moffat trying to be clever with the show's title while simultaneously giving himself a new starting point.

Not that he's reinventing the wheel or anything. "The Angels Take Manhattan" borrowed from Sherlock's "The Reichenbach Fall" by utilizing jumping off a building as the climactic endgame and the discovery of our hero(s) still being alive in a cemetery—even if only for a few minutes. I've argued before about how Moffat steals from himself quite liberally, but the redundancy is starting to be a bit of a drag. (You can argue that Moffat didn't write "Reichenbach," but he's still the producer, and if you don't think a man like that isn't in control of the scripts, you're delusional.)

The misogyny in "Angels" bothered me a bit, too. Women already have enough aimed at them regarding aging and body consciousness without a troll like Moffat adding his two cents. And now The Doctor is off to get himself a cute, young, bubbly new sidekick? We were better off—and so was The Doctor—when the companions were mature women like Donna, or even Martha, who was somewhat young but very level-headed. But maybe the show is hunting for a younger audience.

As for the other episodes so far this season, well, some were okay . . . "The Power of Three" was fun but could have played on the Three's Company vibe a bit more. "Dinosaurs on a Spaceship" was cute. I was underwhelmed by "Asylum of the Daleks" as the opener, but it wasn't the worst. "A Town Called Mercy," though? That one was pretty awful. Again with the unbelievability as The Doctor gets angry. Am I supposed to think he's conflicted and has a dark side? Meh. Smith isn't able to pull it off. Better he stick to manic and occasionally sweet or sentimental. (But only occasionally. Like seriously, not very often, because even then he seems to be stretching his range.)

Now we wait for Christmas, and to see if The Doctor gets everything on his growing wish list. One new companion now on backorder!

Television: Parade's End (Episode 5/5)

How awful.

It would have been so much better if Christopher had died in the war. I really don't think it was right to reward Valentine's ridiculous, school-girl idea of love by getting to be Christopher's mistress at the end of it all. I realize Sylvia was spiteful, but she had a right to be in my mind. And the fact that Christopher gets to have his cake and eat it too? Just goes to show the gender bias. Every man wants a happy-go-lucky little young thing that fawns over him. None want to take on the work that is required to handle a real woman. Sylvia ends up being slandered, used, and tossed aside. Too bad since Rebecca Hall was the one bright spot, the actress seeming to be the only one of the entire cast who knew what she was doing and why; even though her character was not meant to be sympathetic (at least, I'm sure she wasn't, in order to cop the "happily ever after" for Christopher and Val), Hall's fantastic turn made Sylvia compelling and sympathetic nonetheless, leaving Christopher's and Val's actions—already wrong, even if you expect me to believe their love was "true"—to look downright inhumane. Look, I'm no moralizer, but this just turned my stomach.

In the end, I hated the whole thing. The way it finished out made me sorry I wasted my time on it.

Television: Doctor Who finale

All right, let's start from the tippy top. My dad used to watch Doctor Who when I was a kid, and I'd sometimes sit with him (we only had the one television), but I never did follow what was going on exactly, and it all looked a bit silly to me. Still and all, when the program was rebooted in 2005, my husband and I tried it out. We didn't get more than a couple episodes in, however. Maybe it was that we had other demands on our time—our first son was born that November—and/or that, in the list of shows we had time to fit in, Doctor Who fell toward the end.

NOW, a few years later, with kids a little older and us having a bit more free time to ourselves (and our almost 6-year-old finding DW to be a treat), and also the advent of streaming video, we've had the chance to catch up. And as a rule I do enjoy Doctor Who. I could debate the pros and cons of Tennant versus Smith all day, I could delve into the darker side of the Doctor and his psyche, what-have-you. But I really want to focus on the two Smith finales, by which I mean that of the last series (what we in the States would call "last season") and this past one as well. Because they seemed remarkably similar in tone and execution, which makes me worry that Steven Moffat might be dipping too often from the same well.

Here's the thing: last year the finale was "The Big Bang," in which the Doctor was in the Pandorica, but then he wasn't, and then he was going to die in 12 minutes, but then he didn't, and they had to recreate the Big Bang so the world could go back to normal. This year's finale was "The Wedding of River Song," in which the Doctor was once again going to die on a certain day and time, but then he didn't, and that messed things up in the world, so he had to fake his death so time could go back to normal.

Point 1. In each case, at least part if not most of the tension was predicated on the anticipation of the coming death of the Doctor. If this is your go-to crisis for every series finale, something is wrong. How many times can he die, or almost die, but not really die, or else come back from the dead, before the audience ceases to care? The only time this works is (a) if the program is in real danger of cancelation and the audience isn't sure if it's ending, and/or (b) there's a real chance the actor is leaving and the audience wants to see if there's a new Doctor.

Point 2. In both these finales, the pseudo-science causing the problem was, er . . . Jumbled? Not compelling? The core plots seemed flimsy. They were excuses for the characters to have long-winded conversations about their emotions. If you pay attention, that's how Doctor Who functions: the science is rattled off at light speed while the soapy interactions are prolonged. I don't have a problem with this as a rule; I'm the kind of person who enjoys character development. And if any of these characters were actually developing, I'd be ecstatic. But they all appear to be a bit stuck in their ways, forms and functions these days. River Song will always save the day and Rory will always be the underdog, while Amy usually has to step in and help him. If Rory does happen to rescue someone or something, it's generally by accident, a happy byproduct of his own clumsy existence. For once I'd like to see River Song not so sure of herself. I'd like to see Rory put his foot down in a way that the others can't railroad him. It's not in his established character makeup for him to walk away, but what if he finally did? That would be interesting. Not only because it'd be new for the character, but because the situation that would cause such a fundamentally changed reaction in him would have to be fascinating in and of itself.

Point 3. This is a more general point, but I do wish Moffat and company would give the audience a tad more credit. I mean, the minute they started talking about "the question" (a few episodes back), it was clear to me that they meant the show title. And it's no stretch to go from there to the Doctor's name. (That's old school mythology right there: look at Isis and Set.) So when the question was finally "revealed" at the end of "The Wedding of River Song," it was really more of a confirmation. The excess of drama around it was unnecessary. It smacked of a smugness that was unmerited, rather like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat with an exaggerated flourish while the audience sits there and says, "Uh, yeah. We know. Rabbit. Duh."

Okay, so to sum up: I like Doctor Who and want to continue to like Doctor Who, but in order for that to happen, we need some real shake-ups as opposed to these sort of smoke-and-mirror tactics. Let's get out of the comfort zone here, people. Really surprise us. If he can do that—if he can make us go, "Holy s***, really? I never saw that coming!"—Moffat and his crew will have earned the right to pat themselves on the backs.

Television: Lost finale

So last night the television series Lost came to a much heralded conclusion. Don't read any more than this if you haven't watched it yet and don't want it ruined for you.

Locke and Ben find Desmond—who was rescued from the well by Bernard and Rose, who have kept Vincent as a pet, just in case you wondered what happened to all of them—and are taking him to the center of the island (where the light is) to destroy it. Desmond is, as Jack would later put it, a kind of weapon. Apparently his natural resistance to electromagnetism has something to do with it, but whatever. (I can't help but wonder what Widmore planned to do with Desmond?)

Jack, Hurley, Kate and Sawyer also catch up with Locke, Ben and Desmond and it ends up coming down to Jack and Locke and Desmond going to the light and sending Desmond down to—as best I can figure—pull a giant drain plug. Which causes the island to begin falling apart, but slowly enough that Jack and Locke have time to fight it out on the cliffs overlooking the sea. Jack wins that one, and he sends Kate and Sawyer off on Locke's (which was Desmond's) boat to the other island so they can catch the plane with Miles, Richard, and Lapidus—and have just enough time to convince Claire to come along too.

Since the island, meanwhile, is still disintegrating, Jack leads Hurley (who refused to leave) and Ben back to the place where the light had been. Jack intends to go down and fix things; basically, he's going to go put the plug back in the Drain of Doom. Hurley is left to become the next new Jacob, with Ben as his sidekick. While Jack is at it, he ties the wounded but not dead Desmond to the rope so Hurley and Ben can lift him to safety and (hopefully) get him home.

As an aside, I just want to say, I thought the light/drain mythology bit was dumb. I like fantasy and Indiana Jones as much as anyone, but that was . . . I don't even have the words. Navel of the World tourist postcards forthcoming, I suppose?

Back in the sideways world, Desmond is working double time to pull everyone together so that they can trigger their island memories of one another. I won't get into all the ways it happens, but I will say Claire's and Charlie's moment made me tear up. Jack is the one left out of all this, or maybe he's just the most resistant to it. A moment with Locke after having done spinal surgery, another with Kate when he arrives too late for the concert . . . She then leads him to the church where his father's body has been sent after Oceanic's temporary misplacement of it. But Jack will discover that the coffin is empty. He'll see his father again and realize he himself is dead. And he's come to the place where he's being reunited with his loved ones. Which isn't to say they're all dead (yet, in "our" time, if there is such a thing in the show). But apparently the lovely thing about this "Heaven" is that they're there regardless, just as you best remember them. Because love is eternal and knows no time.

For the most part, I liked the ending. I found it hopeful and uplifting. Warm, really. I enjoyed some of the imagery, like opening the show with the progress of Christian Shepherd's coffin: a symbol for laying the show itself to rest. And I totally called it that the final image would be Jack's eye closing. The writers of the show certainly show a liking for symmetry.

As for the island side of things, I can only say I hope that (a) Bernard, Rose and Vincent suffered no ill effects from the earthquakes as the island was breaking apart, and (b) Desmond was able to get home to Penny and Charlie. I was really glad that Claire and Kate both were able to go back to Aaron; a nice balance against the fact that Sun and Jin did not get to go home to their daughter.

I originally wanted to believe that the sideways timeline was an alternative option for those who didn't get happy endings on the island. I haven't quite decided if it was or wasn't. Whether it was Jack writing all of that in his head or something bigger. One theory suggests that the moment of Jack's death occurs during the flight, at the point where Rose tells him it's okay to let go after the turbulence. But that might also just coincide with the moment Jack gets back to the island via Ajira and does let go, as in ceasing to attempt to control things or be the leader. My media studies degree notwithstanding, I'd have to go and watch a lot of stuff over again before coming up with a solid answer for myself.

But like Jack, I don't necessarily feel the need to do that. I've let go of Lost, and am happy to just let the experience of it wash over me . . . Like a bright, warm light.

Television: Lost and Bones Finales

Let me preface this by saying that I started getting sick on Wednesday afternoon, and the way I was feeling may have colored my opinions. On the flip side, since I wasn't attending any big Lost party as so many others did, I'm also inclined to believe that mob mentality may have caused a concentrated amount of enthusiasm to build in Lost fans in general.

I was underwhelmed by the Lost finale. While I did find the Jacob aspect interesting, as far as the castaways went, I was unimpressed. At the beginning of the two-hour block, Jack Shepherd was planning to detonate a hydrogen bomb. At the end of the two-hour block, the bomb went off. Some other stuff happened in between, but as far as that story line went, it was a Point A to Point B situation. Sure, Jack and Sawyer had a big fight. And Sawyer suffered Juliet's . . . whatever it was. (As an aside, let me just say that I like Sawyer + Juliet WAY more than I like Sawyer + Kate.)

The character who interests me is Richard. I'm mostly enjoying the pseudo-mythological plot involving him and Jacob and the Locke-alike. Given the Egyptianish motif of the temples and statues and such, the finale made me wonder whether this was an Osiris/Set sort of thing (making Smokey a sort of Sobek). But my guess is that this is really some amalgam of several mythic ideas. Cain and Abel, Zoroastrianism, etc. Given that I have a minor in classics, with a focus on mythology, and that I teach mythology from time to time, it's little wonder that I like this part of the show the most.

But overall, eh. Many people are going on about what a big cliffhanger it was and how they'll have to wait, but I simply have no such anticipation built in me about it. Again, this may have been because I was literally sick and tired. My husband felt similarly about the whole thing, and he's suggested we try watching it all again after a week or so to see if we're somehow just missing the boat (or submarine) here.

Then again, I may just be becoming hard to please, because I wasn't wowed by the Bones finale, either. And Bones is my favorite show at the moment. It's generally very well written, and the actors have fabulous chemistry. However, last night's attempt at doing something different fell flat for me. Once Jack started narrating, I was pretty sure he was either (a) trying to write a hard-boiled detective novel, or (b) reading aloud to a comatose Booth as the latter recovered from surgery. As it turned out, it was Brennan who was writing--but apparently hearing Jack's voice as her internal narrator?

I suppose I could cast it as "sweet" and even an interesting character anomaly to look at it this way: Brennan was, in effect, fantasizing about being married to Booth and having his child (or expecting to, anyway). She was creating another life for them, in effect--and including all their friends, too. But as a story, even of the alternate-reality variety, it was a bit weak. No wonder she deleted it in the end. (Though, honestly, just hitting "Delete"? Puh-leeze. We all know she'd either need to close and choose "Don't Save" from the prompt or Select All and then delete. Just hitting "Delete" without having anything selected doesn't do anything. Okay, I'm done here.)

Well, I'll look forward to a new season of Bones come the fall, and Lost in the, er, winter? Early 2010 anyway. Hopefully they will spark something in me then.