No sooner had I finished reading The Affinity Bridge, the first volume of George Mann’s wonderful steampunk mystery series, Newbury & Hobbes Investigations, than I found myself plunging into the second novel in the series, The Osiris Ritual, which I completed in just over twenty-four hours and found even more captivating than the first.  In fact, my only real complaint is that, having reached the end, I’m dying to start the third, and since the second only just arrived in the US this month, I’m thinking it might take a while for that upcoming installment to arrive on our shores.  With that said, I do love a good cliffhanger, and with this book, Mann delivers quite a doozy–a number of them, actually, which build on several long-term arcs first established in The Affinity Bridge.

But I seem to be jumping ahead of myself.  For those who missed my previous review, The Osiris Ritual follows the continuing adventures of museum curator/secret agent, Sir Maurice Newbury, and his industrious female assistant, Veronica Hobbes, investigating crimes for the ailing Queen Victoria.  Newbury is a sort-of hybrid homage both to Sherlock Holmes and James Bond–as far as the former, his many similarities to the world’s most famous sleuth include a brilliant investigative mind, a number of potentially harmful addictions, and a more than passing interest in the occult.  And in this novel, we get to meet his Moriarity, Dr. Knox, a former agent as ingenious and dedicated as Newbury but who ultimately gave in fully to the allure of the supernatural, causing him to lose much of what made him human.

The Affinity Bridge largely revolves around the possibility that technology, born from man’s ingenuity, might eventually come to render man superfluous, if allowed to continue to proliferate at such an advanced rate.  The Osiris Ritual tackles a related theme but from a different angle, exposing how man’s desire to prolong his life through various technologies might ultimately render him less human, on multiple levels.  As with the first novel, Mann is using a Victorian steampunk framework to deal with issues of scientific ethics in a manner not unlike many science-fiction writers, but doing so through the lens of a fictionalized version of the past rather than a fictional future.  Whereas the first novel wed a Holmesian adventure to a zombie plague, this one utilizes a corpse resurrected by machinery in a manner that is as much a reference to Frankenstein’s monster as it is to Darth Vader (Mann also wisely parallels this character not only with Knox but with Victoria herself, currently kept alive by machinery.), while also indulging in such penny dreadful delights as a potentially cursed mummy and a potentially evil magician.

And that is what I love so much about the series: how Mann is able to fearlessly blend such seemingly silly tropes from B horror movies and thrillers into a legitimately crafted, endlessly entertaining story, while simultaneously making some surreptitiously astute comments about the state of today’s world.  The novel is as smart as it is thrilling.  The complexity of the characters also allows the novel to transcend its otherwise “low” genre trappings.  This installment finds Hobbes struggling not only with having to deal with bad news about her unwell sister but also with concealing a deep secret of her own that threatens to unravel her relationship with Newbury, while Newbury is struggling with his sense that Hobbes is hiding something from him, and with his addictions, upon which he is becoming more and more reliant, not unlike people’s new-found reliance on the steam-powered technology taking the world by storm despite the fact that it seems to be doing nearly as much harm as good (for example, a proto-automobile is all the rage, even though numerous people have already died while trying to operate them).

The Osiris Ritual is a geeky dream–a fiercely intelligent, absorbing mystery and character study that paints a convincing picture of an alternate Victorian era, reveling in its new old age of discovery, while accomplishing what all great science fiction sets out to do, namely raising a number of fascinating issues that are of extreme importance to our own time, cloaked in the trappings of its own universe.  And it does all of this while also maintaining a flawless homage not only to 19th century detectives but to all sorts of horror, sci-fi, and comic book monsters and villains.  Pulp this brilliantly composed is awfully hard to find.

Buy:

The Osiris Ritual (Newbury & Hobbes Investigations #2)

The Affinity Bridge (Newbury & Hobbes Investigations #1)

Related posts:

1. “To Serve Man”: George Mann’s The Affinity Bridge
2. Steampunk Superhero: Mann’s Ghosts of Manhattan
3. “Secrets and Lies”: Rowena Cory Daniells’ The King’s Bastard

Own it on DVD and Blu-Ray on Sept 7th!

Check out the official site!

Synopsis: Twenty-six years ago, Sam and Dean Winchester lost their mother to a mysterious and demonic supernatural force.  Subsequently, their father raised them to be soldiers.  He taught them about the paranormal evil that lives in the dark corners and on the back roads of America…and he taught them how to kill it.  This haunting series follows the Winchester brothers as they crisscross the lonely and mysterious back roads of the country in their ’67 Chevy Impala, hunting down every evil supernatural force they encounter along the way.  At the end of the fourth season, Sam unwittingly broke the final seal that held Lucifer captive in Hell.  Now, Lucifer is free, the Apocalypse is here, and angels prepare for a spectacular final battle.  Against a landscape of celestial violence, natural disasters, and a rising human death toll, Sam and Dean, with the help of fallen angel Castiel, must find a way to achieve the impossible: Kill the Devil.

Review:

The Show: 

When it first began, I don’t think anybody could have guessed that what initially seemed like a series of pulpy standalone adventures about two brothers traveling across the country in a car would turn into such an intricate, epic serial that still makes time for monsters of the week but has its sights set on far loftier prospects, namely a battle between Heaven and Hell the likes of which television has never before seen, not to mention a complex, mature character study of the two brothers that at times feels like it might be more at home in a work of literature than a WB/CW drama.  Supernatural is the sort of series that rewards multiple viewings, as standalone episodes eventually reveal themselves to be pieces of a larger puzzle, and continuity bits from early in the series come into the forefront as it reaches its ultimate climax.

Supernatural was never more impressive than last season when it finally unveiled its aforementioned religious-themed, apocalyptic endgame.  In a way, it seemed inevitable that the series would finally go there.  Certain episodes and lines strewn throughout the first few seasons dealt with Sam and Dean’s conflicting feelings towards God and indicated not only that the brothers are far more significant than mere hunters who simply remove ghosts, demons, and evil spirits here and there, but further, that the universe’s Powers That Be are watching them. Still, that could not have prepared its audience for quite how morally gray a portrait of heaven Supernatural would come to paint.  

In a move that some might view as blasphemous (I remain surprised that Christian groups don’t speak out against the show, though perhaps it floats completely under their radar), the angels in the Supernatural universe aren’t only not warm and fluffy beings of purity and light, but they are grim, manipulative warriors who kill without hesitation or mercy, when it suits their purposes.  The angels are, in fact, just as much to blame for Lucifer’s ascension as the demons are; they have little to no care for humanity and actually want to jump-start the apocalypse.  They’re not so far removed from any religious extremists. Meanwhile, God is an absentee father, who seems to have abandoned his creation, much like John Winchester in the first season, leaving his children to fend for themselves, while Lucifer (who God banished to Hell because Lucifer loved him too much) never lies but rather tells the absolute truth to everybody, for the truth is always more painful than a lie.

And caught in the middle of this mess are the Winchester brothers, each of whom is partially to blame for what has happened but each of whom has also been manipulated by both sides since the start of their lives, in fact, as we discovered last season that Azazel, the Yellow-Eyed Demon, had chosen Sam as a baby for the express purpose of freeing Lucifer.  In this season, we learn that there is even more to that than we had initially realized.  The series is so beautifully structured that each new revelation fits perfectly, as if we should have guessed it from the very beginning.  Even more impressively, from a narrative standpoint, despite the fact that the brothers are caught betwixt a millennia-long battle between unfathomable forces, series creator Eric Kripke still keeps the focus, and the storytelling drive, on Sam and Dean.

That is not to say that the fifth season is without its bumps.  Although it starts out incredibly strongly, with Lucifer having just been unleashed upon an unsuspecting world, the trajectory of the arc ultimately manifests in a series of fits and starts.  In previous seasons, standalone episodes that delayed resolution to the series arc could be narratively justified as being due to the result of villains scheming and plotting elsewhere.  This season, however, is cluttered with far too many filler episodes that do little to advance the plot, and that is particularly problematic when Apocalypse is nigh.  Lucifer, as he is depicted on the series, is the most badass villain ever.  It simply doesn’t make sense that it takes so long for his world domination to occur.  In the meantime, we are left with one of the most pessimistic seasons the series ever produced, with Sam and Dean becoming increasingly convinced that they are incapable of winning, while suffering greater and more heartbreaking losses.  Furthermore, after what seems like a staggering amount of episodes in which little happens, by the end of the season, events suddenly kick into gear but without enough time to develop them fully, leaving the ending feeling rushed and abrupt.  In the end, the season proves to be unfortunately anticlimactic, particularly for an arc that had been building for five years.  It is very difficult to live up to hype of the sort that the writers set up for themselves.

With that said, the season still has its incredible high points that make it more than worthwhile viewing for fans of the series.  Its list of stellar episodes includes “The End,” in which Dean travels five years into the future to witness the horror that Lucifer will inflict upon the world should the brothers fail to stop him, “Fallen Idols,” in which a town is being attacked by creatures in the shape of such famous icons as James Dean, Abraham Lincoln, Gandhi, and…Paris Hilton (who, yes, is played by herself), “Changing Channels,” in which Sam and Dean find themselves trapped in a television world, acting out parody versions of various TV genres from Grey’s Anatomy to that of a classic sitcom, “The Real Ghostbusters,” in which Sam and Dean travel to a Supernatural convention, “Dark Side of the Moon,” in which the boys literally go to Heaven, and many others.  Furthermore, it’s likely that this season in particular would play much better viewed back-t0-back, without months of delays in arc fulfillment.  And even if it weren’t, it is hard to argue with the often mesmerizing performances of Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, as well as the ingenious Misha Collins, who makes a brilliant addition to the cast as the angel, Castiel.

The Set:

Video/Audio: I don’t have an amazing video and sound system on which to really judge it, but from what I can tell, it looks and sounds gorgeous.

Box Art/Menu Screens: As with all previous Supernatural sets, the box art is absolutely beautiful, with a shot of the boys printed on shimmery foil that looks completely consistent with previous sets.  The inside, on the other hand, is actually different, but you’d never know it by looking at the outside.  I don’t own the fourth season set, but the first three all come with a cardboard case that unfolds, whereas this set is a plastic snapper.  It, however, comes in a slipcase identical to the other seasons, so it fits perfectly with the others on the shelf.  This is a credit to the care that the people at Warner Bros. put into these sets, and it is most appreciated.  There is nothing more frustrating to a DVD collector than when different sets in a series don’t match.  The menus are also all in keeping with the previous sets.  A really great job.

Bonus Features:

Commentary: The DVDs come with a single commentary for “The End,” from Executive Producers Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, and the episode writer, Ben Edlund, and while I’m not always a fan of commentaries, this one is both extremely insightful and an entertaining listen.  If you are interested in the Supernatural writing process, it includes a discussion on a bunch of fascinating alternate concepts that were originally considered for the episode, detailing how and why the writers finally decided upon what ended up in the finished product.  There is also some great discussion on how the episode foreshadows and reflects the season’s major arcs and themes.  If there were only going to be commentary on one episode this season (which there was), this is definitely the one I would have picked, so that’s perfect.

Unaired Scene: The set comes with only one deleted scene.  Good thing it’s such a fantastic one.  Apparently, they filmed a number of alternate versions of lines for Chuck (Rob Benedict) to say at the con in the ultra-meta, “The Real Ghostbusters,” and a number of them are compiled here.  Full of hilarious Supernatural in-jokes, a must-see.

Ghostfacers: The Web Series: Remember the obnoxious “ghost hunters” who have proven to be the bane of Sam and Dean’s existence (or, at least, Sam and Dean are the bane of theirs) numerous times throughout the series’ run? Well, over the course of this season, 10 webisodes of their fictional reality series were produced, and this DVD set includes all of them. Hilarious stuff, and so great to see it all here.

Supernatural: Apocalypse Survival Guides: Bobby’s Exclusive Video Collection: This feature is rather odd but rather cool.  It purports to be Bobby’s archive of supernatural information to help the boys survive the Apocalypse.  The way one navigates through it is to go on a tour of Bobby’s house and click on various items, many of which unlock documentaries about the making of Supernatural, as well as faux religious documentaries about religion, Lucifer, and the End Times.  Overall, a nice-looking feature that’s fun to sift through, but it would have been nice to have an alternate option for watching these features, as you can only get to some parts of the house by listening or watching certain portions first.  At one point, I accidentally booted myself out of the feature and to get back to where I was before, I had to rewatch a number of things, with no way to skip or fast-forward. Furthermore, it can be difficult to get from “Bobby’s House” back to the main menu.  Overall, a fun feature with some cool treasures to be found, but it is a little twitchy.

Gag Reel: Exactly as it implies, and it’s a lot of fun to see the gang kicking back here, particularly during such an intense season.

In short, if you’re a fan, it’s a must-buy.  It’s a good season that’s shaky in spots but has a number of truly brilliant episodes, and while there aren’t tons of special features, there are more than enough that are of high enough quality to make it worth the purchase.

Get the inside scoop on WB movie and DVD releases! www.wbreelnews.com

Buy:

Related posts:

1. Intersect 2.0: Chuck: The Complete Third Season
2. “Did I Do That?”: Family Matters: The Complete First Season
3. The West Wing Season 1 Blogging

Earlier this year, after having read George Mann’s ultraviolent and dazzlingly pulpy slice of superhero steampunk noir, Ghosts of Manhattan, set in an alternate version of Manhattan in the Roaring Twenties, I was extremely eager to go back and read his first novel, The Affinity Bridge, which I finally had the opportunity to do this week.  If Ghosts of Manhattan is George Mann’s homage to pre-Golden Age superheroes by way of F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Affinity Bridge is an homage to the classic Victorian detective tale, with a number of B-movie and horror elements thrown in for good measure.  This being steampunk, I was expecting the dirigibles and other similar forms of technology (and from Ghosts, I knew how extremely clever Mann’s retro-tech can be).  I was not expecting a potentially literal ghost, soothsaying, bronze androids, and a zombie plague, yet Mann incorporates all of these elements into the novel’s central mystery with such dexterity and panache, they all seem like a natural fit.  He has a knack for turning pulp into gold.

Though Sir Maurice Newbury seems to hold the relatively straightforward job of museum curator, his actual position is secret agent for the Crown, investigating mysteries of interest to the ailing Queen Victoria, who is currently being kept alive by rather monstrous machinery.  Much like another world-famous Victorian detective, besides being extremely intelligent and astoundingly perceptive, Newbury is also fascinated by the occult and suffers from an insidious drug addiction.  Unlike this sleuth, however, Newbury’s sidekick is not male but rather a woman named Veronica Hobbes, whom he hired as his assistant shortly before the novel began.  We don’t know how Newbury came to find her, although over the course of the story, we are provided with some tantalizing clues.  From the start, we do know that she is no blushing violet.  She is a modern woman, strong and competent, and Newbury’s reliance on and faith in her indicates how modern and forward-thinking he is, as well.  The male-female detective duo dynamic distinguishes the novel from the majority of its forerunners.  And though it has been done before, Mann is particularly good at making them a partnership of intellectual equals, and contrasting their relationship (which has some potentially romantic undertones brewing) with how the Victorian society at large surrounding them regards “the fairer sex.”

What makes them particularly interesting to me is how the two of them regard the technology surrounding them.  One might think that since Veronica is ahead of her time in many ways, in terms of her socially liberal politics, that she would be awed by the rapid growth of technology–the airships, the steam-powered hansom cabs–but it actually disturbs her a bit, whereas Newbury is more often than not delighted by it, captivated by the amazing things that can now be done that, as a child, he probably never imagined possible.  Though his interests in the occult and in technology otherwise might seem opposite in nature, they prove to go hand-in-hand.  After all, both are about turning the seemingly impossible into a reality.  He marvels at the conveniences that the technology provides.  Veronica, on the other hand, worries about its potentially negative effects on the populace.  Besides being bothered by the vast amounts of steam pollution, which blended with the ubiquitous fog, keeps London in a perpetual haze, she worries about what might happen if the new technology causes people to lose their jobs, once employers realize how much more efficient they can be than human workers.

In many ways, Mann is using a Victorian milieu to comment on concerns that many people have today over how quickly technology is evolving and whether we are equipped to handle and adapt to it, from either a psychological or societal perspective.  The purpose of technology is, ostensibly, to serve man by making our lives easier, but it also carries with it the real danger of replacing man.  Mann carries this through to its logical conclusion with his inclusion of steampunk robots that run on a retro-futuristic form of AI.  According to Villiers, the scientist/inventor who created these automatons, they are incapable of either violence against man or malfunctioning, but when an airship piloted by a robot crashes under mysterious circumstances, killing a large number of people, and the pilot disappears without a trace, Newbury and Hobbes must investigate whether or not these claims are true.  In this respect, the novel is highly reminiscent of Isaac Asimov’s Elijah Baley novels, which are science-fiction whodunnits featuring a human detective and his robotic sidekick that generally involve crimes that potentially disprove Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics.

As The Affinity Bridge progresses, a number of seemingly unconnected threads eventually interweave, which in and of itself isn’t surprising, as it is a standard feature of the detective genre.  How they come to do so, however, is surprising, as well as extremely intelligent in how they strengthen the novel’s overall thematic framework.  For example, the zombie plague seems to be a deliberate parallel/inversion of the rise of the automatons, the former being humans practically reduced to mindless machines, the latter being mindless machines on their way t0 becoming practically human.  How these two stories intersect by the end is as impressive on a plotting level as it is on a symbolic one.

Above all else, however, The Affinity Bridge is an enormously entertaining ride through an alternate early-twentieth-century London, a depiction of a world that stands on the cusp of great change even while being mired in the societal norms of yesteryear (not unlike our own world), and an absorbing, suspenseful mystery that makes liberal use of all sorts of good, geeky fun, while featuring distinctive, complex heroes for whom it is a pleasure to root.  It also ends on a revelation that should have any reasonable person immediately reaching for The Osiris Ritual, the new novel in the Newbury & Hobbes series.  I, for one, certainly couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

Buy:

The Affinity Bridge

Related posts:

1. Encore, Encore!: George Mann’s The Osiris Ritual
2. Steampunk Superhero: Mann’s Ghosts of Manhattan
3. Veronica Mars: "Normal is the Watchword"

Own it on DVD and Blu-Ray on Sept 7th!

Check out the official site!

Synopsis: The world’s nerdiest secret agent is back in the one-hour action-comedy series, Chuck.  Zachary Levi stars as Chuck Bartowski, the Buy More electronics store computer geek who unwittingly becomes the government’s most vital secret agent.  At the end of last season, a major gamechanger occurred that forever changes Chuck Bartowski and the series on the whole.  Now, Chuck finally has the potential to become a real agent.  There’s just one problem–his emotions.  Can Chuck keep his emotions in check?  His handlers will still be there to protect him, but they also must help him become the agent he is destined to be.

Review:

The Show: Very few shows are able to reinvent themselves successfully.  Far too many find themselves caught in a Catch-22, plotting-wise.  On the one hand, if the concept remains the same for seasons on end, it can grow stale and stagnant; on the other, if too much changes, one risks losing what made the show so great in the first place. From the beginning, Chuck was a show built on a concept that, although marvelously entertaining, could never last forever by dint of the fact that if Chuck spent years and years simply trying to get the Intersect out of his head, the plot couldn’t help but grow repetitive, like the castaways on Gilligan’s Island always getting ever so close to escape only to have it blow up in their faces at the last moment.  Creator Josh Schwartz and his writing team avoided this fate by incorporating an enormous twist into the second season finale that changed the series forever, while still remaining true to the characters and the journey that was established all the way back in the pilot.

This enormous risk pays off enormously, making Chuck‘s third season its greatest yet.  If the first two seasons have any inherent weakness, it revolves around their essentially formulaic nature.  In the third season, however, the writers throw out the rule book all together.  What makes the season so nifty is that things happen that the viewer wouldn’t have expected to happen until the series finale, and yet the show flawlessly incorporates these changes into its framework rather than allowing itself to fall victim to shark-jumping.  It never settles on a formula.  The situation is in constant flux, the character paradigms and dynamics perpetually shifting and morphing to the point that the viewer, week to week, could never tell exactly when and how the show’s situation would ever normalize, so to speak.  And while the events of the season often seemed random while they were happening, it actually proved to be the most complexly structured season to date, in retrospect, with various story threads and themes woven throughout the season paying off in unexpected ways by the end.

All of these threads dancing and entwining with one another center on the major theme of what other spies have had to give up to excel at their jobs, namely their emotions.  In large part, this season is about Chuck trying to reconcile his essential sweetness with the constant lying, violence, and other unpleasant things he will have to do should he realize his dream of becoming a spy.  It is a darker season than the previous two, but as the characters are maturing and changing, it feels a necessary transition to the next level of this non-traditional Hero’s Journey.  To those who may have watched the first season of Chuck but abandoned it because they didn’t think the plot was going anywhere, it is time to catch up, because you are missing out on one of the most gleefully geeky, romantic, hilarious, adventurous, silly, and suspenseful series of all time.

The Set:

Video/Audio: I don’t have an amazing video and sound system on which to really judge it, but from what I can tell, it looks and sounds gorgeous.

Box Art/Menu Screens: Visually and spatially, this set has a great deal going for it. Like the first season, the case is as slim as a standard single DVD release, so it takes up less room on the shelf.  It’s just a shame the second season wasn’t released like this, as well, because the three sets don’t match as well as they could have.  On the plus side, however, it maintains the consistent, clean, and rather gorgeous art design of the first two, with Chuck and Sarah displayed over a white background.  I might question whether it gives away a bit too much of the huge twist, but on the other hand, perhaps it doesn’t.  The booklet, disc design, and inner art are equally well done, with some truly gorgeous shots of the cast, and perhaps most excitingly, the Season 3 Comic-Con poster made to look like a mix between an 80s film and a comic book cover graces the cover of the booklet.

The non-animated menu screens could be a bit more exciting, but they are still pretty to look at, so I have little complaint there.  They do, however, have a few other deficiencies.  Clicking each episode title takes one directly to the episode, with no chapter menus available.  While the episodes are divided into chapters and thus one can jump to where one needs to be rather than fast-forwarding through it, I like having a menu as an easier means of doing this.  Related to this, each disc has a number of deleted scenes–or Declassified Scenes, as they call them–but instead of having each scene specifically labelled by episode, the only way to view them is to click on the Declassified Scenes icon and watch through as many of them as there are.  There are no menus for them, and even more egregiously, no description on the menu screen as to which episode each scene originally belonged.  Luckily, you can figure it out by looking through the booklet, but having had this information also available on the disc itself would have been a more elegant, user-friendly manner of dealing with this feature.

Bonus Features:

Chuck-Fu…and Dim Sum: Becoming a Spy Guy: While in some ways, this is a standard DVD behind-the-scenes documentary, it actually contains a great deal of very insightful interviews with the cast, production team, and writers, about the new direction Chuck took this season and how, despite its outward changes, remains very much an organic outgrowth of what came before it.  One portion is also an extremely poignant love letter to the fans, who helped save the series from cancellation before Season 3. This is a must-see for fans, as long as they have seen the entire season before viewing it, as it is full of spoilers.  It also added “Spy-Fi” to my lexicon, and for that I’m eternally grateful.

The Jeffster Revolution: This is a rather brilliant Behind-the-Music-style mockumentary about Buy Morons, Jeff and Lester’s, seminal cover band, Jeffster, and their legendary concert that inspired a generation…or something.  It features great work from Vik Sahay and Scott Krinsky, and I also happen to love DVD features that add to the series mythology, so this hit the spot for me.

Declassified Scenes: As with most series, most of these deleted scenes were deleted because they were either unnecessary or redundant.  With that said, many of them are still very cool to see, particularly the first, which features a “lost” Jeffster number of sorts, and a very funny bit by Arrested Development‘s Tony Hale, who plays the sycophantic Buy More manager, Emmett Milbarge.  Unlike many other series sets, these scenes are all presented in high-quality film stock, too, making them very pretty to watch.

Gag Reel: What else is there to say that isn’t obvious from the description?  A fun set of on-set bloopers. I always love seeing the interactions between the actors when they mess up, since it’s so different from the tone of the scenes, as they appeared in the show. It also features a pretty brilliant practical joke Scott Krinsky pulled during what was supposed to be a steamy scene between Sarah and Shaw.

There aren’t any commentaries, which might distress some fans, but I tend to find even the most interesting of commentaries a bit of a chore to sit through, so I don’t bemoan their exclusion.  Overall, it’s a great set with some excellent extra features, really beautiful packaging, and most importantly, absolutely fantastic episodes that would make the set worth it even if it came with nothing else.  In my humble opinion, a must-purchase.

Get the inside scoop on WB movie and DVD releases! www.wbreelnews.com

Buy:

Chuck: The Complete Third Season DVD

Chuck: The Complete Third Season Blu-Ray

Chuck: The Complete Second Season DVD

Chuck: The Complete Second Season Blu-Ray

Chuck: The Complete First Season DVD

Chuck: The Complete First Season Blu-Ray

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Last month, I finally started reading the work of an author who I had been hearing about for years and always meant to try out, China Miéville.  I began with his YA fantasy, Un Lun Dun, and found myself just as captivated as so many friends and critics had indicated I would be.  After that, I thought it might be a fun idea to gradually make my way through the rest of his canon in order of publication, and so earlier this week, I picked up his first novel, King Rat, and devoured it in under two days.

King Rat actually served as a good companion piece to Un Lun Dun, as the two have quite a bit in common.  They are each about a seemingly ordinary person who discovers that he or she has a Destiny of sorts to help rid a hidden underworld of London from a deadly scourge.  At their hearts, they are both subversions of the classic fantasy trope of the Chosen One. Whereas Un Lun Dun is actually set in an entirely parallel universe, however, King Rat occurs in the underbelly of our own, in the grimy sewers where the rats live and feast and multiply; Un Lun Dun is whimsical, King Rat dark and eerie.  King Rat hinges on a number of truly surprising twists and revelations that I don’t want to give away.  Suffice it to say, however, that it is an extremely clever reworking/updating of the Pied Piper of Hamelin myth (already a deceptively creepy tale), told from the rats’ point of view, with the Piper portrayed as an all-powerful, ultimate form of evil who can hold complete control over whatever species he desires by simply playing a different tune on his malevolent flute.  Miéville skillfully weaves in other figures from world mythology and culture, including Anansi, the arachnid, West African trickster god, and Loplop, King of the Birds, derived from the drawings of artist Max Ernst, not to mention the concept of the “king rat” itself.

At the start of the novel, Saul Garamond’s father is murdered, and Saul finds himself being carted off to jail for a crime he didn’t commit against a parent whom he loved deeply.  Not long afterwards, an extremely strange, mercurial man who calls himself “King Rat” enters his cell and promises him freedom, if he agrees to come with him.  King Rat is both the rat monarch and a personification of all that rats are and all they represent.  He can make himself unnoticed, even in a crowded room; he can squeeze through gaps that seem too tiny to accommodate someone of his size; he can climb up walls by finding the tiny little imperfections that make perfect handholds for a rat though no one else can see them; he can eat absolutely anything, no matter how vile, without getting sick.  Upon meeting Saul, he reveals a secret that the young man never knew about himself and takes him down into the sewers, where he tells him the sad tale of the Piper and why the rat kingdom needs him so desperately.

Although King Rat isn’t as polished as Un Lun Dun, it also revolves around a reluctant protagonist eventually growing into a hero on his own terms, not those that either prophecy or succession has set out for him (Miéville’s Leftist/Socialist politics manifest here, particularly in the denouement), and features a similarly vibrant depiction of a city that brims with such life, it practically transmogrifies into one of the novel’s most important characters.  Many of the characters of King Rat are obsessed with the rhythms and beats of Jungle Music and Jazz, and Miéville’s gritty, dirty, gets-under-your-skin portrait of London and its filthy sewers deliberately mimics the experimental nature of this music, weaving above, beneath, and through all levels of the city, darting inside the subconscious of various characters and zooming outwards to places usually left unexplored, with the dexterity and borderless freedom of, well, a rat.  This is truly urban fantasy.

One of Miéville’s greatest achievements in the novel is how he makes the rat world seem both enticing and revolting.  Wouldn’t it be rather liberating to live in a world where one could travel into places others only dream about and never have to worry about cleanliness or health?  On the other hand, yuck. There is not a moment where the image of rats crawling or gnawing or eating didn’t produce a shiver in me, even though as a reader, I was rooting for them to win.  In other words, Miéville never Disneyfies these creatures.  As humans, we can’t help but shudder, even as our protagonist explores his own liminality, experiencing life devoid of human rules, constraints, and boundaries.  In many ways, this is the darkest fairy tale I’ve read, in the sense that the protagonist and the world he comes to inhabit are so divorced from our world’s standards as to be practically alien, not to mention the often horrific acts of the villain.  At the same time, Miéville manages to make the main characters feel real and relatable, even in the most outlandish of situations, thanks to his depiction of their inner lives.  Saul often flashes back to memories of his childhood and his father, which, along with his anguish and pain over his death, always grounds him in verisimilitude, and the same goes for Saul’s friends, who worry about where he has gone, and one policeman who comes to believe that there may be more to his disappearance than meets the eye.

As absorbing as a fairy tale and as eerie as the pitterpatter of ratty feet whispering from within the walls, King Rat is a most mesmerizing read.

Buy:

King Rat

Related posts:

1. “Prophecy Girl”: China Miéville’s Un Lun Dun
2. Stephen King Blogging: Insomnia
3. Stephen King Blogging: It

Note: The following review contains spoilers for all aired episodes of Warehouse 13, including the most recent, “Vendetta.”

It seems like every week lately I have a new favorite episode of Warehouse 13.  ”Vendetta” is a taut, brilliant hour of television that seamlessly unites the wackier, self-referential vibe in which the series has been indulging for the majority of the season with the eerier feel of the early episodes of the first season.  This is a particularly apt decision on the part of the writers and production team, as the episode revolves around revelations and twists from the past.

First and foremost, of course, we have Artie, whose history as a “Russian spy” is finally revealed.  When we first learned of this last year, it seemed difficult to reconcile the Artie we knew today with the potential villain of the past.  It seemed that there had to be an explanation for how Artie could have betrayed his country in years past and yet then been completely forgiven by Mrs. Frederic.  Why did she hand-pick a spy for the Russians for Warehouse duty?  So much of it didn’t fully add up, and yet since Artie always keeps his secrets close to his chest, we did not know, besides the assumption that there had to be something more to the story than met the eye, and as it turns out, there was.  What is so fascinating about the explanation we finally receive in this episode is how logically it fits and how well it works with the history of the show.  Oftentimes these sorts of revelations either prove to be disappointing or end up turning a hero too morally ambiguous.  This was a concern I had before–would Artie’s past be forgivable?

As it turns out, the truth almost makes Artie more noble than we ever realized, while simultaneously explaining why he was in trouble with the government, and why Mrs. Frederic would want him for her team.  Artie Weisfeldt, during the Cold War, had been bargaining with the Russian government to free some of his relatives from captivity in the gulags.  He did so by providing the Russians with antiques that proved to have–shall we say–certain powers, powers of which he was not aware at the time.  Upon realizing what he was actually dealing with, he turned himself in to someone who turned out to be Mrs. Frederic, and the rest is history.  This is absolutely ingenious backstory.  In tying it to the persecution of Jews in the Soviet Union, the writers give it a surprising amount of emotional resonance and a greater sense of reality than the show usually has.  One can understand why from Artie’s perspective, providing an enemy government with trinkets would seem a worthwhile cost for saving people he loved from tyranny.  There is also added irony to the fact that one of these items was a chain from one of Torquemada’s racks.  In other words, Artie freed oppressed Jews with an a item once used to oppress them–a beautiful and subtle nuance, from a writing standpoint.  Furthermore, it makes complete sense that Mrs. Frederic would consider someone who had proven to be so adept at gathering these artifacts to be a perfect candidate for her particular program.

In the end, Artie’s identity was actually changed not to protect him from our government, as the first season’s episode misdirected us into believing, but from that of the Russian’s.  Unlike many other shows that continue to portray modern-day Russian spies, despite the fact that the Cold War is over, Warehouse 13 proves itself to be cleverer once again.  Although the show leads us to believe that it must be the Russian government that abducts him, the answer is actually much more personal.  It is, in fact, the son of Artie’s Russian contact, who had been imprisoned for life by his own government after Artie dried up as a source.  This is another intelligent writing decision, as it demonstrates how difficult Artie’s decision was.  In doing the “right thing,” in trying to protect others from such dangerous weapons falling into Russian hands, Artie doomed this man to the same fate from which he had saved his own relatives, and so he is not fully absolved of his past actions.

None of this is enough to convince him that H. G. Wells has been similarly misunderstood, however, and when the Regents reinstate her as a full Warehouse agent, in large part due to Myka’s testimony, he is sickened.  The question is however where this disgust is coming from.  Is this reaction an attempt to distance her “crimes” from his, a refusal to identify with someone whose actions, if she is to be believed, are no worse than his?  How much does Artie know about what Wells’ crimes, in fact, were?  If her story to Myka is true, it is, like Artie’s backstory, a fantastic explanation for how to reconcile her past with her present.  I had been wondering how they were going to handle her original claims that she was bronzed because she was a strong woman at a time when strong women weren’t accepted, for if she then proved to be a villain, wouldn’t that carry with it an unfortunate connotation conflating “strong woman” with “backstabbing liar”?  Her story, however, makes sense.  After her daughter was brutally murdered, she searched through the Warehouses, in places she didn’t belong, for items that could help her undo the past, ignoring the Regents’ admonishments over and over again.  Finally, she herself asked to be bronzed as punishment.  She claimed to not want to live in that same world her daughter had occupied and saw bronzing as a potential form of time travel to distance herself from a painful present.

Now, my theory is that she had even bigger plans in mind.  Namely, that since she couldn’t find the tools she needed to reverse the past in her own present, she decided to allow this to happen in the hopes that in the future, she could find what she needed.  In other words, she wanted to travel to the future in order to go back to the past.  None of this, however, means that she is necessarily evil, and yet we are left with the niggling questions of why MacPherson felt that he needed her for his plans, what these plans were, and, again, why Artie doesn’t trust her.  Is it simply because he bought into what he had been told about how dangerous she was without knowing the full truth, or is there a fuller truth about her that he knows and we don’t?  Is it possible that his anger towards her is simply related to how MacPherson betrayed him, leading him to believe that once a Warehouse agent goes bad, there is no possibility for redemption?

Let’s look at a potential reason for how she came to be seen as such a villain, assuming her story is completely true.  Depending on what artifacts she was messing with, this could very well have qualified her as one of the most dangerous people in history, particularly if she were growing close to discovering a means for time travel.  After all, in trying to save her daughter, she could have potentially unraveled the entire universe.  And we still don’t know now whether she actually does want to become an agent in order to find a place in the world, as she claims, or if she continues to have an ulterior motive, which would most likely be again placing herself in easy access to the objects she needs to make a time machine.  Either way, though, does this make her a villain or simply someone willing to do anything to save someone she loves, which is again, reminiscent of what Artie did?  Now, of course, they are different.  Artie didn’t realize what he was doing, whereas H.G. would be knowingly putting the world at risk. Again, though the “villain” label is a slippery one.

Meanwhile, all of these doubts and mistakes and unknown identities and allegiances are more humorously reflected in Claudia’s subplot, when she comes to believe that Todd might be a spy himself, when she discovers that all of his records were created six months ago.  Todd, at the same time, thinks that she might be a danger to him, as well.  When they finally confront one another, Claudia finally learns the truth.  He was an IT guy working for a big-time mobster who accidentally saw files he wasn’t supposed to, thus leading to him being put into the Witness Protection Program.  His handler’s advice that he not make any serious connections was the reason he broke up with Claudia a few episodes back, not jealousy over Fargo.  The only thing that Claudia truly processes, however, is the extremely exciting revelation that he’s also a techie.  Earlier on, I thought that Todd and Claudia really had nothing in common and nothing to talk about, since she had to keep so much of her life a secret.  Now, however, we learn that they not only have secret identities in common but are both hackers.  The sad irony is that this information which could have enriched and deepened their relationship is revealed just as he has to leave, to appease his worried handler.  My first guess regarding Todd’s secret was that he was somehow related to Well’s plan.  The reality is even better.

More Odds and Ends:

• All of this episode’s artifacts are extremely cool and beautifully conceived.  Torquemada’s chain is palpably chilling, as is the plank of wood from the Titanic.  Punnery aside, there is something truly eerie about these artifacts and what they do.  The manner in which one counteracts the effects of the plank is also incredibly clever.  One keeps from freezing by grabbing onto the plank, or metaphorically reboarding the ship.  Very nifty.
• On the more fun side of things, Charles II’s croquet ball, which is imbued with the “fury of a king and a sore loser,” which is why it has to stop bouncing on its own. Also extremely nifty.
• The Myka/H.G. lesbian vibe continues. Loving that.
• Could Claudia’s Scooby Doo exclamations be more awesome? I think not.

All Warehouse 13 Reviews

Related posts:

1. Warehouse 13 2.07: “For the Team”
2. Warehouse 13 2.08: “Merge With Caution”
3. Warehouse 13 2.01: “Time Will Tell”

A Word of Caution: While every effort has been made to ensure the minimization of the prevalence of spoilers and their harmful effects, they are impossible to avoid all together, this being a review of the third in a series.  Therefore, if you have not yet had the pleasure of partaking in Soulless or Changeless, by one Ms Gail Carriger, you are humbly advised to do so post-haste, and perhaps before reading this review.

What more to say about a book series, fictional universe, and author upon whom you have already lavished enormous praise in two previous reviews?  Gail Carriger’s writing is among the wittiest I have ever read.  Not only is her wordplay remarkable but her jokes and gags build ingeniously.  Every time you think she might have wrung all the humor possible out of any given scenario, she creatively attacks it from yet another surprising angle, and you find yourself struggling for breath while trying to not cackle like a mad person in a crowded area–something which her protagonist, Alexia, would find most unseemly.  Or at least you do if you are me and/or are as delighted by Carriger’s deliciously droll Victorianesque wit as I am.

I have written at length in my reviews of the first two novels in The Parasol Protectorate series–Soulless and Changeless–about Carriger’s perfect blending of horror, romance, mystery, steampunk, alternative-history, fantasy, satire, science-fiction, and comedy-of-manners, as well as her ability to seamlessly weave complex character development, drama, and suspense into her novels in such a way that the reader cares deeply about the characters and is throughly engrossed in the plot, even as he or she is trying to contain fits of laughter whilst sitting on a subway car.  Or, again, that is at least my experience.  The latest book in the series, Blameless, is no exception.  Seeing as it picks up directly from Changeless‘ most dire of cliffhangers, the humor in this novel may be even more of a wonder than in previous installments, because our protagonists spend most of this novel under a great deal of emotional distress.

As we rejoin our story already in progress, Alexia has temporarily returned to the unwarm, unwelcoming bosom of her family home, after her husband, the hotheaded werewolf, Conall Maccon, kicked her out, while Conall has returned to London as well, with the singleminded determination to drink himself into a perpetual stupor–an enormous feat for a werewolf of his formidable size.  The source of their marital problems is currently growing inside Alexia, a child whose existence should be impossible, since supernatural creatures shouldn’t be able to impregnate.  Upon discovering his wife’s delicate condition (what she calls her “infant-inconvenience”), Conall is convinced that she has been unfaithful, whereas Alexia is convinced that her husband is a different sort of bastard.  From that point forwards, the novel charts Alexia’s quest to clear her good name by investigating her praeternatural nature, a quest that takes her to foreign climes, namely France and Italy, whilst being pursued by killer, clockwork ladybugs, vampire assassins, and the Knights Templar.  As you might imagine, it is a geeky smorgasbord that gives fans of the series exactly what we have so been craving–more Tarabotti backstory, more metaphysics, more interactions between our beloved characters, and more parasol action.

As in the previous novels, one of Carriger’s greatest strengths is how meticulously she has thought out the series’ universe and her characters’ places within it.  She plots flawlessly on both a micro and macro level.  For example, she carries out Alexia’s pregnancy and subsequent estrangement from her husband to its logical conclusion, socially speaking.  To wit, the epic fallout that occurs when she returns home is fully in keeping with the Victorian moral and social code, thus heaping even more pressure upon our heroine, who has to contend not only with her own hurt and anger over her husband’s betrayal but the whole of London’s righteous indignation for her alleged faux pas.  Alexia’s righteous indignation at their righteous indignation is one of the major reasons she is able to remain such a strong and funny protagonist, even under these trying circumstances.  She may be hurt but she refuses to let the clucking tongues of society, nor her fool of a husband impede her drive.

It is also one of the series’ most amusing ironies that while Alexia chafes against Victorian constraints, she is still very much a product of her time and perpetuates them herself.  For example, even as she suffers from the judgment and scrutiny of others, she also judges people, such as her dearest friend, Ivy Tunstell née Hisselpenny, who has scandalously married an actor and is now living in a tiny apartment that doesn’t even have the decency to have more than one parlour!  Carriger also mines brilliant humor from Alexia’s terribly British xenophobia in regards to the other cultures with which she comes in contact, though seeing her gradually come around to appreciating new locales and even some cuisines is one of the novel’s primary delights.

Over the course of the novel, Carriger also adds a number of fantastic new characters to the Parasol Protectorate repertory company, such as a condescending German scientist and expert on praeternaturals, Mr. Lang-Wilsdorf, an eccentric but handsome and kind clockmaker, Gustave Trouve, who is cousin to the dazzling inventor and lesbian, Madame Lefoux, and someone only referred to as the preceptor, the only member of the Knights Templar who is allowed to speak to the soulless (and possibly former) Mrs. Maccon.  In addition to these new characters, we are, of course, also graced by visits from just about all of our good friends from the previous installments, and as in Changeless, Carriger does so remarkably well.  She never inorganically forces a character into the forefront of the story nor overuses a character simply because he or she is either popular or fun to write.  She realizes that less is more.

Ivy, for example, who played a prominent role in the first two novels only makes minor (yet narratively important) appearances here, whereas Alexia’s butler, Floote, is actually given more to do than ever before.  Meanwhile, Lord Akeldama, the gloriously foppish vampire rove only appears fleetingly, as in the first two books, and yet has such a grand presence that it seems as if he’s more present than he actually is, whereas his favorite boy, Biffy (a very tertiary character in earlier books), ends up at the center of an unexpectedly crucial (and, again, brilliantly realized) plot twist.  And that is one of the major keys to Carriger’s success in creating characters.  Their personalities are all so distinctive and so strong, and she makes such phenomenal use of each one that no matter how long each one’s “screen time,” so to speak, actually is, it always feels longer, in retrospect, because they all leave a sizable impact on the story.  Meanwhile, she continues to recalibrate the character dynamics so that it never gets stale.  Naturally, given the situation, Alexia and Conall are separated for the majority of the novel.  Furthermore, as I mentioned already, relatively minor characters from previous books gain unforeseen importance, and one particular meeting of two characters who I never expected to share the same room had me practically squealing with delight.

The big question on all fans’ minds might be whether Blameless ends on a cliffhanger, as Changeless did.  The answer is both yes and no.  No, it isn’t quite as heartstopping nor as abrupt, and the novel certainly does provide some resolution to its forerunner, so one never gets the impression that this episode is marking time, as happens in some other novelists’ series arcs.  At the same time, however, this story is still very much in motion.  There are more dangers and secrets and revelations awaiting Alexia Tarabotti Maccon.  The situation is still dire, but in a different way than before, and I for one can’t wait to see what happens next.

Buy:

Blameless (The Parasol Protectorate #3)

Changeless (The Parasol Protectorate #2)

Soulless (The Parasol Protectorate #1)

Related posts:

1. In Which Gail Carriger’s The Parasol Protectorate, Book the Second: Changeless Is Reviewed
2. In Which Gail Carriger’s The Parasol Protectorate, Book the First: Soulless Is Reviewed
3. The 10 Best Books I Read in 2009

Note: The following review contains spoilers for all aired episodes of True Blood, including the most recent, “Fresh Blood.”

When watching a show as complex and wonderfully overstuffed as True Blood, it can be easy to ignore the individual performances and just be overwhelmed by the epic nature of the overall production.  This being the penultimate episode of yet another season, I’d like to begin this week’s review by acknowledging some of the fantastic actors who have lit up this season, particularly some of the less obvious ones.

While an enormous amount occurs in this episode and so it is impossible to say that it truly belongs to any given actor, this was truly Carrie Preston’s week to shine.  Week after week, her performance as Arlene is always dazzlingly brilliant.  She is such a natural at playing the close-minded, none-too-intelligent, ever-present Merlotte’s waitress that it’s easy to forget just how difficult a character she actually is.  She is often hilariously funny but never realizes how ridiculous she is–in how she dresses, in how she behaves, in the often racist comments that fly out of her mouth.  Arlene thinks Arlene is perfectly reasonable.  She is simultaneously lovable and heinous, and it’s often hard to tell which side is winning out.  More than any other episode in a long time or ever, Preston had the opportunity to play both sides of the character to the hilt.  Her scene in the woods with Holly is absolute genius, with Preston capturing Arlene’s nervousness, her fear, her lack of ease with the situation and the ritual perfectly.  Her speech to her mother is both genuinely touching (one of the rare times the character seems stripped bare, almost innocent) and hilarious for reasons she would never understand.

Equally gorgeous are both her calm, rational reaction to what Terry believes to be a miscarriage–ironically, she acts maternal and wise in dealing with Terry’s mourning–and then her horror in the hospital when she learns the fetus has survived.  Speaking of which, Todd Lowe once again impresses deeply as the kindly Terry, whose loyalty and good nature has gradually won me over as one of my favorite characters on the series.  Returning to Arlene, though, the high point of the episode might have been her dream sequence filmed not too dissimilarly from Sookie and Bill’s visitations to Faerie, wherein she is fishing and her mother calls to her.  Without her fake red hair and gobs of tacky makeup, Arlene looks years younger: youthful, fresh-faced, and innocent.  Again Preston is perfection, revealing the sweet girl hidden beneath the press-on nails and neon-colored hair.

Another True Blood MVP is Kristin Bauer van Straten, who makes Pamela Swynford de Beaufort one of the most outrageously and consistently entertaining characters on the show with her killer deadpan delivery, which she always accomplishes with finely tuned, world-weary finesse (one of my favorite moments on the series to date remains her reaction to Arlene’s children).  Her best line this week is when she gets to call Eric “an infatuated tween,” which is such a delicious dig not only at him but at the billions of worshippers at the shrine of that other big vampire series currently in the pop culture consciousness, that which shall not be named.  There is also very little more purely delightful than seeing Pam temporarily blind Bill by squirting him in the eyes with the silver-infused pharmacy liquid.  Other than Russell Edgington, there are far few True Blood vampires–or villains on any show or film–who relish being fiendish to such an exuberant, practically gleeful extent.  Not that she ever actually would ever admit to being gleeful, but you can just tell how much she loves it, which is part of what makes her so fun to watch.  In the past few episodes, including this one, Bauer has also been allowed to add even further depth to Pam, showing her genuine fear at the thought of losing Eric.

Now, I’ve already spoken a great deal in previous reviews about the stunning Rutina Wesley.  She is one of those True Blood actors who can make your jaw drop at how authentic her emotions are, even in the most ludicrous of situations, such as the entire Franklin arc.  She always finds the reality in the situation and can break your heart.  In this episode, her scene with Andy Bellefleur is just as powerful, as we watch her reaction gradually transmute from anger and righteous indignation into acceptance.  And naturally, this scene wouldn’t work as well without Chris Bauer’s superb reading of Andy’s lines.  He absolutely nails Andy’s shock at the truth being discovered and his sincere regret for what he did.  Just looking into his eyes, you can see why Tara backs down.  Now, of course, she isn’t thrilled with him.  His words, in fact, send her into a drinking binge, which she comes to share with Sam, but she also seems to have reached an almost Zen state regarding the situation by the end of the episode, and the reason we can accept it is partially due to the excellent writing but is just as reliant upon how well Wesley and Bauer, and then Sam Trammell convey their characters’ conflicting emotions.

Speaking of Trammell, he continues to be fantastic in this episode as well, deftly building on his emotional arc and the revelations from the previous installment.  Although Sam comes in blisteringly drunk, spewing hateful words to his closest friends, Tara is there for him, because as they say to one another over the course of their long conversation, they’re actually very much alike.  Sam often represses his buried anger whereas Tara has always let it hang out in the open for all to see, but their emotions are very similar.  They are also both very loyal and loving to their friends.  Both actors convey both of these extremes beautifully, so it is easy to accept both of them.  From an acting and writing standpoint, their coupling at the end of the episode is a lovely climax, no pun intended.  In the first season, when Sam and Tara began sleeping together, it seemed like the wrong time and the wrong place.  For some reason, however, this time feels more right, perhaps because they have both just experienced some of their lowest moments and are so on more even footing than in the first season, when Sam seemed much more put together.  In fact, Tara, after processing Andy’s words, seems even more level-headed than Sam at this juncture, much as Arlene was with Terry, which makes for an interesting and new character dynamic between the two.

Also very interesting right now is Stephen Moyer’s performance as Bill, because whereas the loving things he used to say to Sookie always used to sound honest and sincere, now it is getting just as difficult for us as viewers to trust him as it is for Sookie.  There seems to be a tinge of manipulation hanging around his every word, particularly during the scene in the car when Bill and Sookie start to talk about the “new life” they could have together.  Now, it’s very possible (likely, even) that Bill truly does love Sookie as much as he says, but he is obviously still lying to her about his original reason for being in Bon Temps and inserting himself in her life.  It seems fairly clear by this point that, as Sophie Anne’s procurer, his original mission was to procure Sookie, while investigating Hadley’s claims about her heritage.  It might inspire us to look back and question his earlier actions, knowing the early days of their romance weren’t quite as innocent and simple as Sookie might have thought.  Moyer’s is doing an excellent job making it very hard to read Bill now.  Even if he has Sookie’s best interests at heart, here he is putting her in danger again.  Needless to say, Anna Paquin is great throughout.  In some ways, I think she is the most underrated person on the show.  People write her off as just being whiny or obnoxious, but she actually does a phenomenal job every week doing a pitch-perfect satirical performance so well that many people don’t even realize that she, as an actress, is in on the joke.  And that is some stellar work.

More True Bloodiness:

• I cannot express how excited I am to see Jessica and Hoyt back together again, and engaging in such an erotic scene.  In the previous season, they were always sweet and romantic, but there’s a new, adult edge to each one now that has grown out of them growing up a bit in their time apart.  They’re still the same in many ways, but more confident and more mature. To continue the theme of this review, Jim Parrack and Deborah Ann Woll, you rock!
• As awful as she is, I was also practically jumping up and down in my seat to see Maxine Fortenberry (Dale Raoul) again, because I love seeing all the various townspeople and recurring characters, many of whom we didn’t see quite so much of this season. (Speaking of which, I hope we get to see Jane Bodehouse again some time soon.)  She may be evil and might be plotting to destroy my favorite couple on the show, but I can’t help it. Maybe she and Lettie Mae can get a spin-off together.
• How freaky was Lafayette’s vision of Jesus.  So, is he evil, or was it just a remnant of the V and/or indication of the dark magic his grandfather used to do? And is Lafayette a witch?
• I’m interested to see where the Hot Shot plot (heh heh, rhyming) goes, particularly because it not only allows Jason to be a hero again but it also gives him an intriguing moral dilemma, knowing that Crystal’s crazy father would kill innocent people, including kids, if the Feds came in.  Interestingly, to do the “right thing,” Jason again may have to break the law.
• Speaking of which, having the teen quarterback jerk being using V as a steroid replacement is a great writing move, because it has Jason an actual reason to be offended by the kid. He isn’t only trying to steal his glory, but he is cheating at it, something that no one watching the game will ever know.  The indication that V use is even more prevalent in Bon Temps than we realized, not to mention part of a conspiracy involving respected members of the community, could lead some very interesting places in the future, particularly if Jason decides to pursue this somehow.
• It was hard not to feel a little bad for Tommy. He is a little prick, but he is genuinely scared for his future when Sam kicks him out.  Not that he didn’t deserve it.
• Yvetta’s revenge on Pam is also awfully entertaining, as well as her line that she was a cardiologist in Estonia, which whether true or not, is hilarious in True Blood‘s self-satirical manner.  I love that the writers actually followed up on Yvetta by giving her minor character arc a bit of a punchline at the season’s end, and particularly one in which she comes out on top.
• How superb is that cliffhanger? There are no words. Luring Russell out into the sun and then shackling him to you with vampire-power-stripping silver handcuffs so he can’t escape? Very nice, Eric.  But, um, you do have an escape plan, right? Right? Whether or not, it was a really beautifully done reference to Godric’s death (Pam’s reaction, as well), and just a smashing ending.

Can’t wait until next Sunday! Wait…what do you mean there’s no new episode on Labor Day?!

All True Blood Reviews

Related posts:

1. True Blood 3.03: “It Hurts Me, Too”
2. True Blood 3.07: “Hitting the Ground”
3. True Blood 3.08: “Night on the Sun”

Joe Abercrombie’s deliciously dark The First Law trilogy takes all of the classic High Fantasy tropes that have been populating similar novels since J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings first came on the scene and practically established the genre, and gives them all a savage twist.  By turns mercilessly satirical, stupendously grisly, and uncompromisingly grim, the three books in the series–The Blade Itself, Before They Are Hanged, and Last Argument of Kings–much like Tolkien’s masterpiece, are each divided into two parts, all of which combine to make up one epic novel of magic and war, wizards and fate, villains and kings.  Unlike in Tolkien’s work, however, determining good from evil is not an easy task.

In the world of The First Law, there are no real heroes or antagonists.  Every major character is morally ambiguous and to such a degree of complexity that it’s next to impossible to parse them out as one or the other, except for one in particular whose villainy isn’t clear until the very end.  It is difficult to sympathize fully with any of them, because they are all so very human (meaning flawed and sometimes casually cruel), everyone from the initially prattish, narcissistic son of a nobleman, Jezal dan Luther, to the violent, brutish warrior, Logen Ninefingers, to the misanthropic, grotesquely crippled torturer, Sand dan Glokta.  On the other hand, their humanity makes it easy to empathize with all of them.  No matter how imposing their facade might seem, as the novels progress one either finds something in common with each one or at the very least comes to understand their motivations.  At any given point, the reader might be tempted to throttle every single one of them, but even more impressive are the times where we find ourselves glimpsing flashes of goodness or innocence, sometimes buried deeply beneath the surface.

Abercrombie has one of the most masterful controls of character and prose I’ve ever read.  Although the novel is written from start to finish as a third person narrative, each section (whether it be a full chapter or divided parts of a chapter) is told from the perspective of a single character, with the narrator capturing the cadences, thought processes, and grammar of that character.  The technical literary term would be third person subjective or third person limited.  While this is a common device, the manner in which Abercrombie distinguishes between the various characters is nothing short of remarkable.  Many authors illustrate what is happening inside their characters’ brains via italicized inner monologues.  Stephen King is famous for this.  Abercrombie does this as well, but only when writing from Glokta’s perspective.  The acerbic, caustic inquisitor, whose body is perpetually wracked with pain from the injuries he received years ago at the hand of other torturers, constantly comments ironically on what is happening around him.  When writing from Logen’s point of view, on the other hand, he regularly repeats several idioms and mantras from Ninefinger’s culture, which Logen clasps like a security blanket.  When writing from another warrior, known as the Dogman’s, perspective, he writes in an informal style, with “g”‘s often left off the ends of words, to indicate the Dogman’s background and lack of formal education, and so on and so forth.  Suffice it to say that he writes each in such a distinct voice that, even were the character’s name to be obscured, one can usually tell which character is “speaking,” so to speak.

Furthermore, so tightly limited is the perspective of each character that we often don’t know what he or she looks like until that character is described by another character, in a separate chapter.  Many authors get around this issue by having a character examine him or herself in the mirror, but Abercrombie doesn’t take this easy way out.  The fact that we don’t know any more about a character than he or she reveals upon first appearing works extremely effectively, such as in the case of Glokta, who is so decrepit and ruined that it is difficult to tell his age or appearance in his first chapter.  The novel unfolds in a sort of tapestry effect, with each successive “narrator” filling in gaps left by the limited perspectives of previous ones.  And, naturally, each one is unreliable, to a degree.  That isn’t to say that any of them are actively trying to trick the reader.  After all, none of them know they are telling a story.  When in any given perspective, however, we are reading biased accounts that judge certain characters based on issues belonging to the “narrator” of that chapter.  For example, from Logen’s initial perspective, Jezal is a pretty boy, weak and petulant; from Jezal’s, Logen is an uncouth, uncivilized brute who has more in common with an animal than with a human such as himself.  This structure also allows Abercrombie to drop elegantly placed details and easter eggs throughout the work.  A reference made or detail noticed by one character may be commented on or noticed by another in a later chapter.  The more attention one pays, the more rewarding is the novel.

Over the course of the novel (and, again, I refer to it as such because it really is a single entity), each character undergoes a complicated arc that leads to a dramatic shift, leaving each one indelibly changed…or perhaps not.  It is to Abercrombie’s credit that it is often difficult to tell whether the characters have actually evolved, if they are fooling themselves, or whether it’s all simply a function of the fact that even when people grow, they are still essentially the same people they always were.  It is the rare novel that acknowledges this to such an extent.  Meanwhile, throughout, Abercrombie skillfully uses readers’ expectations against them.  The novel’s biggest surprises occur due to baggage that the reader has brought with him or her from having read other fantasy books.  The wise, kindly wizard; the band of questers who become united by friendship over the course of their travels; the supremely powerful magical object that will save the world–these are all tropes which Abercrombie seems to be employing, only to reveal his true intentions further down the line.

The First Law breaks almost all of the standard rules.  People, whether good or bad, don’t always end up getting what they truly deserve.  Having one’s wildest dreams fulfilled isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.  Being a villain doesn’t mean one will necessarily lose.  Abercrombie paints an all-too-realistic portrait of government and bureaucracy in which one evil might be perpetually replaced with another in an endless, vicious cycle, power arises from ruthlessness, history is written by the victors, and the poor people are always the ones to suffer. The First Law begins where it ends, and ends where it begins, both literally and figuratively.  The circumstances may have changed, but on the whole, the world always remains the same, doesn’t it?

Buy:

The Blade Itself

Before They Are Hanged

Last Argument of Kings

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Note: The following review contains spoilers for all aired episodes of Eureka, including the most recent, “The Ex-Files.”

“The Ex-Files” is an absolutely stellar episode of Eureka that brought with it one minor disappointment, but once I recovered from that momentary feeling of “Oh…huh,” it wasn’t difficult to acknowledge how intelligently this twist was set up and how it benefitted the story, to boot.  Naturally, the minor disappointment of which I speak is the fact that, no, Nathan Stark is not alive in this reality, and although he initially claims to have been stuck in that time loop all this time and that he only just recently was able to find a bridge back home (which, at the time, we are lead to believe could have been caused by anything from the time machine to the EMP device), he is actually just a figment of Carter’s imagination, just as Tess is a figment of Allison’s, and loving Zane is a figment of Jo’s, and the bratty girl is a figment of Fargo’s, and Beverly’s father is a figment of Grant’s.  Amy Berg and Eureka‘s writers deserve a great deal of credit for how elegantly they obscure the twist through Beverly.  The fact that she is real and back in the characters’ lives serves as a perfect red herring, for it causes us to expect that Nathan and Tess are, too.

In the end, though, I realized I was happier that Nathan wasn’t actually back at this juncture, because it would have been incredibly manipulative for the writers to bring Allison’s deceased fiancee back into her life just as Carter and her relationship began–a move a bit too soapy for comfort.  Further, it would have left the dilemma of how to get rid of Nathan, since it didn’t seem that Ed Quinn would be returning as a regular.  Whether or not Allison eventually rejected him (which would have been a huge deal, since how does one deal with one of the loves of her life returning from the dead shortly after committing to another love of her life?), it would have at least temporarily screwed with her and Carter’s coupledom, and if “real Nathan” were only around for one episode, it might have seemed far too abrupt and gimmicky.

Instead, the writers here decided to use Stark for a different purpose, as a physical representation of one of the major issues that have kept Jack and Allison apart in the past.  Instead of Stark actually returning to mess with Carter, Carter brings him back himself.  And what is so ingenious about it is that it works symbolically and literally.  This Stark is a manifestation of all of Carter’s insecurities regarding if he is right for Allison, an exaggerated version of the actual Stark, constantly berating Carter, telling him that he isn’t smart enough, handsome enough, or worthy enough to be with her.  Speaking of which, it is wonderful to see how great Ed Quinn and Colin Ferguson’s chemistry remains, with the two effortlessly slipping back into the give-and-take bickering that always made them so entertaining to watch together.  At the same time, when Stark was a regular on the show, he of course wasn’t merely a symbol for the perfect man for Allison to whom Carter never felt he could measure up, but was a complex character in his own right and someone who Allison loved very much.  The Stark in Carter’s head, then, works on both levels, as a reminder of how the actual Stark often made Carter feel less of a man, as well as a reminder of the very real person who stood in the way of Allison and his romance blossoming.

And Allison certainly has a lot of baggage with Stark.  He died on what was supposed to be their wedding day, after all.  Having her be haunted by Stark, though, would have been an incredibly obvious move, and further, one Eureka has done before, in “Show Me the Mummy,” when Allison thought the holographic message Nathan had recorded for her was his ghost.  Therefore, instead, Tess appears to her.  At first she seems to be there as a manifestation of Allison’s guilt regarding the fact that she’s engaging in a romantic relationship with her best friend’s former boyfriend, but as the episode proceeds, it becomes clear that she’s there for a less obvious and much deeper purpose.  As it turns out, Allison has conjured her up to guilt herself out of being with Carter as another red herring, this time a self-defense mechanism to deal with the fact that she’s afraid of losing another man she loves.  Tess was there for her both times she lost Nathan–when they divorced, and when he died–and so her mind creates this angry, jealous Tess as a means by which Allison can convince herself to leave Carter before he can break her heart.  Nathan was a strong, young, virile man, and he unexpectedly died just as their life together was about to begin again, so it stands to reason that Allison would be doubly concerned regarding Carter, considering his day-to-day job actively involves putting his life in danger on a regular basis.  Then again, that’s pretty much life for everyone in Eureka, isn’t it?

Another person hallucinating another still-living person is Jo, who continues to see visions of her Zane, who has nothing but words of love for her, telling her he will let Zoe down easily so that the two of them can be together.  Again, the writers should be commended for giving each person a completely different issue to get over. For Carter and Allison, these issues are securities or fears of different sorts, while for Jo, it is the romanticized image of Zane she’s held in her head since losing him.  As the episode progresses, what Jo realizes is that her relationship with Zane was never as dreamily perfect as she has been remembering it.  She even goes so far as to remember that these niggling little doubts about their relationship are precisely what led to her hesitation to accept his proposal in the first place.

As I spoke of in the last review, however, the characters of Eureka have limited perspectives.  Just because Zane and her in the original reality weren’t perfect doesn’t necessarily mean that they weren’t right for each other (Jo is resigning herself to the present by swinging too far in the other direction), nor that they can’t be together in this reality.  He may not be ready to dump Zoe, but it seems that this in large part might be due to not being sure of Jo’s feelings for him, feelings that she accidentally reveals to the “real” Zane in a beautifully written moment.  One can only imagine what is running through Zane’s head at the moment, when Jo returns his grandmother’s ring to him, which this Zane would have no clue how she ever got.  Unfortunately, we don’t find out this week, as Zane is dragged off at that moment, having been framed for the theft of the EMP device.  Again, though, the characters of Eureka act as intelligent as they’re supposed to be.  Carter and Allison discuss the issue and realize that Zane being the thief doesn’t add up, even though he would be the perfect, most obvious choice for a patsy.

Speaking of which, what makes Grant’s actions and Beverly’s manipulation of him so fascinating is that it all may be rooted in the best of intentions.  In the past, we never knew the Consortium’s true intentions.  We saw them perform some dark and criminal actions (such as the murder of Susan Perkins in the pilot), but at the same time, when Beverly attempted to take Kevin from Allison, she seemed to be doing so for purposes that were, from Beverly’s perspective, good and justified.  In this episode, she also seems to have a noble reason for her actions, as Grant does in listening to her and doing what she says.  In essence, they are due to the very reason that Henry considered leaving Eureka at the end of the first season–the fear that what was supposed to be a place for exploration and discovery, a scientific utopia of sorts, was being compromised by the need to make weapons for the military.  It is fascinating, therefore, that this philosophical dilemma existed from before the town’s very inception.  As Allison wisely points out to him, there was more of a military presence in the past, after all, than today.

Still, it is easy to see why, from Grant’s point-of-view, the town has spun wildly out of control from his original goals, and why Beverly is able to convince him to help sabotage the EMP device.  In fact, if we weren’t already so suspicious of Beverly (and he has less reason to be than we do, particularly when he learns whose daughter she is), we might even be on her side.  It is the rare show that will allow us to empathize with a saboteur–Grant, that is–to this extent.  The problem is, he also has been known to do ethically problematic things in the name of forwarding science and/or his beliefs and/or his desires.  The implication at the end of the episode seems to be that Beverly wants him to travel back in time in order to ensure that Eureka becomes the town he envisioned, a goal that may be interpreted as noble but is also awash in hubris, narcissism, and a lack of regard for the lives of the actual people affected, much like the disregard he showed in hitching a ride to 2010 in the first place.

It’s interesting that James Callis also played a saboteur scientist in his most famous role, Gaius Baltar on the revamped Battlestar Galactica, an even more narcissistic character.  In Baltar’s case, however, he was a hotshot who was initially so self-absorbed and interested in getting laid and being famous (his real reason for pursuing the scientific field) that he neglected to even realize that he was betraying his people.  Grant, on the other hand, seems to have his heart in the right place.  It is just his methods that are questionable.  The question remains whether Beverly’s stated reasons for contacting him are, in fact, true, or if this is all part of a grand nefarious scheme on her part.

And speaking of the divide between the scientists and the military, the episode also gives us fantastic material for Fargo, whose visitation by his childhood nemesis helps pave the way for him developing even further into a full-grown man.  General Mansfield, as usual, ignores the scientists’ advice, disregarding Fargo’s words of caution about moving the EMP device, and as a result, it is stolen, the irony being that Beverly was clearly banking on the General doing this exact thing, which is part of the reason she feels the need to steal it in the first place (assuming she’s telling the truth, which is, granted, a pretty big assumption).  When later, in his typical style, he tries to pin the blame on Fargo, however, the bullying Fargo has received from the little girl inspires him to resist Mansfield’s bullying, standing up to him by informing him that he has already reported Mansfield’s culpability to General’s superiors.  And thus the little brat’s job is done.

More Eureka Odds and Ends:

• So, it seems that Stark did, in fact, die in this reality, just as he did in the original timeline.  At what point, however, did Fargo become head of GD?  Has he held this position for at least the last four years, with Stark as his inferior, or was Stark the head up until his death?  We can assume Allison never shared the spot with him, since she is the head of medicine, not the DOD liaison, as she originally was.  Also, do we know for sure that Stark did die in this reality, or is that just the characters’ assumption?  I’m going to assume the former is true and that we just didn’t see them discover the truth, because otherwise Henry probably wouldn’t have been so definitively certain that his appearance was impossible. (Stark’s words to Carter otherwise don’t invalidate the possibility that there is a living Stark somewhere in this reality, because since he came from Carter’s subconscious, his explanation for how he “returned” was entirely made up.)  It does seem to remain possible, however, that Stark could theoretically come back some day the same way that the hallucination of Stark claimed to do so.
• Carter mentioning that Stark should help fix Andy because he knows robots is a fantastic continuity reference to “Right as Raynes” from Season 1, in which we learn Stark had built a lifelike robot, Callister Raynes, who he came to think of as his son.  In retrospect, the fact that he doesn’t help is an early clue that he isn’t actually there, just as Andy breaking down is a plot device done so that Carter could meet Stark alone for the first time, as otherwise the illusion would have been shattered immediately when Andy didn’t see him.
• The sequence in which Stark sunbathes topless and then appears in a Hawaiian shirt, in order to irritate Carter, is highly reminiscent of another science-fiction show that commonly dealt with a guy being tormented by a neural clone of his arch-nemesis, namely Farscape.
• So, these people that Beverly represents–are they, in fact, the Consortium?  The name is never given.

A few more questions in this vein:

• How does Beverly know about Grant being out of time, in the first place?
• How did they get the bridge device from Warehouse 13?
• Is it possible that the Consortium and the Regents are either connected or are one and the same?
• Speaking of which, it’s interesting that Beverly says that the people she represents were a group formed by Grant.  Is this, then, an indication that the Consortium was originally founded to keep Eureka in check, because Grant and some of his colleagues felt they were losing sight of the town’s original goal?

But I can’t finish up without praising the entire cast for such stellar acting, particularly Erica Cerra for her beautiful scene with what she thought was a hallucination of Zane, and Ed Quinn for his brilliant reaction to Carter telling Allison he loved her.  With his perfect facial reaction and reading of the one line, “Oh,” he ceases being the cartoonish Nathan he’d been throughout the episode and gives us a glimpse of the kind man he usually buried underneath his swagger, the one who wants Allison to be happy, above all else.  A gorgeous moment in a practically flawless episode.

And I can’t help but leave you with one of the best exchanges in the show’s history:

Carter: Do you want to grab some dinner?

Allison: No. I was thinking maybe breakfast.

*swoons* Oh, I’m sorry, where was I?

All Eureka Reviews

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