Somewhere

The Week In TV 10/10/2011

American Horror Story, Season 1, Episode 1: Pilot

This is not just one of the worst pilots of the season, it might just be one of the worst episodes of a TV show I’ve ever seen.  American Horror Story comes up with a genuinely solid premise and then proceeds to waste it so entirely that I’m at a loss as to why anyone would tune into episode two, if only out of morbid curiosity.  Ben (Dylan McDermott) and Vivien (Connie Britton) Hampton move into a new home following his infidelity and her painful miscarriage, accompanied by their teenage daughter, Violet (clearly modelled on Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice).  Of course, what the gratuitous flashbacks and eye-bleedingly frenetic editing warn us of is that the house is haunted.  Created by Ryan Murphy (Glee), it comes as no surprise that American Horror Story has tonal issues, veering from lurid horror to domestic drama, yet never managing to really nail either, and hitting so many plot points, that I’m at a loss to how this show is going to operate week-to-week.  Just in the pilot we have a maid that appears as an elderly matron (Frances Conroy) to Vivien, but as a sexy, suspender-wearing harlot to Ben, a ghost in a gimp suit that rapes Vivien, a bully that Violet freaks out in the basement of the house and a mysterious voyeur (Denis O’Hare) covered in scars.  Connie Britton, who created one of the most indelible TV characters of all time on Friday Night Lights, gives a performance that sidelines the terrible script and somehow manages to find some depth and feeling to Vivien.  Everyone else is mostly lost at sea, however, with only Jessica Lange’s camp-as-Christmas creepy neighbour making any sort of impression.  There’s talent here, both in front of and behind the camera, but it feels like the show is doing a disservice to pretty much everyone involved, and the horror genre really does play to Murphy’s worst instincts as a writer.

Community, Season 3, Episode 3: Competitive Ecology

Another solid episode, albeit one whose realistic approach to friendship feels almost mean-spirited.  The study group are paired up with random partners for a biology assignment, only to beg their professor to let them pair up amongst themselves, only for these second pairings to awaken dormant problems within the group.  The real stroke of genius here was adding in a secondary character, Todd, who would have to work with the one member of the study group not partnered up, there being seven of them in total.  This leads to a wonderful sequence in which the group privately rank one another according to their popularity and rapidly unravel.  These type of scenes are fairly standard for Community, but it’s a well I’m happy for them to revisit as long as they remain this funny.  What makes “Competitive Ecology” something above the ordinary, rather than a fun rehash of old comic tropes, is its willingness to acknowledge that, yes, the relationship these characters have with one another isn’t necessarily healthy.  As Todd states in the episode’s indisputable highlight, “Your love is weird.”  It’s a fantastic meltdown from yet another spot-on supporting character.  The only moment that didn’t quite work for me was the resolution, where we seemed to be in for a speech about how we should respect one another’s differences and just get along, only for these problems to all get swept under the carpet and instead use Todd as a focal point for what’s wrong within.  It’s a fairly standard coping mechanism, and it reads as very realistic in terms of how many friendship groups stay together.  It is also the third episode in a row that’s been keen to focus on these characters’ flaws, and the inner ugliness that lurks beneath the surface.  If I had a complaint, it’s that I’ve missed the more touchy-feely stuff this season.  It’s an interesting path to go down, and certainly one that could see it picking up more in the way of critical acclaim since the show has been criticised for its sentimentality, but the show’s warmth has also been one of the things that distinguishes it from the harder-edged sitcoms out there.

Dexter, Season 6, Episode 1:

And so Dexter continues to limp on.  Now in its sixth season, Dexter has lost all ability to shock except in random gross-out moments.  We all know what to expect from any given season: a guest star serial killer, a suspicious co-worker and a variety of tedious subplots involving the increasingly bland supporting cast.  Having said that, this episode was sort of a success, perhaps because rigor mortis has yet to set in, and whilst the show decided to hit the reset button on the Lumen storyline, it at least proved that the Dexter was capable of shaking things up at least temporarily.  Opening with a fun double homicide, the outlook looked more promising still with the appearance of Edward James Olmos and protégée Colin Hanks as this season’s Big Bad.  A crime scene involving a stomach bulging with baby snakes, interspersed with some uncharacteristically lively banter between Debs, Quinn and Masuka also upped the ante considerably.  What worried me were the signposts of what’s to come, including hints that Batista will become Season 6’s co-worker with suspicious about Dexter, and the ongoing Debs/Quinn relationship saga, which isn’t interesting no matter how good Jennifer Carpenter might be.  Even more bizarrely, Dexter’s visit to a Catholic school for his son prompts him to think about his own relationship with God.  Whilst I’m not necessarily adverse to TV shows tackling spiritual matters (Glee, of all shows, tackled it successfully in “Grilled Cheesus”), I’m not sure that this isn’t merely a replacement for the familial connection that has dragged Dexter down the last five seasons, a sense of himself in relation to some wider picture of “normality.”  The show’s refusal to either expand or move forwards is undoubtedly one of the reasons that it has retained so many viewers – many of them still passionate – but for the rest of us, it’s been a steady decline, pockmarked by the odd interesting guest star or tense chase scene, but otherwise bogged down in storylines we’ve seen a hundred times before.

Fringe, Season 4, Episode 3: Alone In The World

A bit of a wheel-spinning episode this one, and with kind of a goofy premise (a sentient plant that has forged a psychic connection with a troubled kid).  How fortunate then, that the writer (David Fury, ex-writer for Buffy) managed to take all of this and fashion something emotionally resonant, if a tad familiar to anyone that might have seen ace B-movie The Ruins.  When two children are killed by a mysterious vine, their corpses mummified within hours, the trail leads back to Aaron, a kid without a father and whose mother is constantly out of the country.  The plant (helpfully labelled “Gus” by Walter) forms a psychic link to the boy through their shared loneliness, so that when the vine begins to expand through the city’s sewage system the Fringe team realise that killing it would also kill Aaron.  This leads to a scene of real tension, as Olivia fights for time in which Walter can figure out a way to break the connection.  This, of course, brings Walter to confess what happened to his son who, in this new reality, died as a child twice over.  In Aaron, Walter sees the relationship that he never got to have with Peter, and forms a bond strong enough to break the link between Aaron and Gus.  The episode’s closing moments, however, were spine-tingling.  Convinced that the repeated visions of the “young man” and the voices in his head are proof that he’s going insane, Walter prepares to lobotomise himself, only for Olivia to reveal that she too has been seeing this man in her dreams.  Next week, I’m sure, will be more related to the series’ main plot arc, as the Fringe team get closer to rediscovering their missing team member.

Glee, Season 3, Episode 3: Asian F

One of the best episodes of Glee in quite some time, “Asian F” takes much the same tack as last week’s instalment in dipping into its talented (and often underwritten) cast of supporting players.  The title of the episode comes from Mike Chang’s A- grade (and “Asian F” according to his father), but his father’s threat to remove him from glee club only makes him realise that dance is his true passion.  This leads to a touching, subtle scene in which Mike dances in front of a mirror, haunted by the twin ghosts of his stern, practical father and the more supportive Tina.  It’s tied up a little too neatly, with his mother revealing that she too had dreams of becoming a dancer but was forbidden to pursue it, but the emotion behind it, though simple, feels real and earned.  More pleasingly, Mercedes was finally granted a storyline that doesn’t revolve around her preference for tater tots.  Auditioning for the part of Maria, she realises that not only is she better than Rachel, but she’s also under-appreciated by Will, and whilst I would quibble about Mercedes finding her self-confidence through her boyfriend (couldn’t Quinn have given her the empowering speech that forces her to recognise her own talent?), her refutation of the glee club’s constant endorsement of Rachel felt like something the show has been building to for a long time.  For a show that’s often lacking in long-term (or even short-term) memory, that’s quite a bonus.  The least successful storyline, although not without its merits, was the return to Emma’s OCD, which the show flips between representing as a serious condition and a source of one-note jokes about cleanliness.  When Will invites Emma’s parents over for dinner, it’s clear that much of her problem stems from how she was brought up, and whilst Jayma Mays’ delicate performance really sold the characters’ suffering, the show almost ruined the moment by having Will singing “Fix You” in a dreadful, high-pitched tone.  That aside, “Asian F” was almost the best that Glee can be, with plenty of stuff going on around the periphery, such as Brittany’s continued push for class president and Blaine winning the role of Tony in West Side Story.  It’s not just that these storylines have gone on for more than one episodes, but that the emotions behind them are contiguous with what we’ve seen before.  If this is a sign of what the show wants to be moving forward, then I’m on board.

The Good Wife, Season 3, Episode 2:

I wasn’t as enamoured of this week’s Good Wife as I was with the season premiere, but it was still slick and fun for the most part.  The episode started with a win for Lockhart Gardner, as their client, mountaineer Danny, won a libel suit in which he was accused of making false claims about a second climber that had left his brother to die on Everest.  Their victory was short-lived, however, with the accused taking his case to the UK (where copies of the book have leaked through on Amazon).  It’s a fascinating case on many levels, but one which the writers do their best to squander with some dreadful stereotyping of the stuffy Brits.  Eddie Izzard is a poor choice for opposing council, embodying all sorts of clichés; a shame considering his fine work on The United States of Tara this year.  Aside from a few too-obvious jokes, however, the episode benefited from the generally fascinating case at its centre, which was not dissimilar to their spell in military court in Season 1.  The focus for most viewers will undoubtedly be the interplay between Kalinda and Eli, two characters that seem so suited to one another on a business level, that it’s astonishing that the writers haven’t thought of a reason to pair them up before now.  Elsewhere, the Florrick family dynamic continues to fascinate, with Peter showing an uncharacteristic understanding of the pain he has caused Alicia in a loaded exchange with his son.  It’s a close-to-perfect scene, one whose subtlety I wish had suffused the whole episode.

Gossip Girl, Season 5, Episode 2: Beauty and the Feast

A firmer episode this week, albeit not one without a few distracting subplots.  The bulk of “Beauty and the Feast” was taken up with Blair’s impending nuptials, as she’s forced to contend not only with debilitating bouts of morning sickness, but also Louis’ suspicious sister.  In the great tradition of Gossip Girl supporting characters, the princess seems blandly pleasant at first, only for her true motive in affecting such cheerfulness to become abundantly clear by episode’s end.  At first it seems as if the princess is going to be on Blair’s side, but it quickly becomes apparent that she’s trying to discredit her in order for her mother to stop favouring Louis over her (or something).  Oh, and she’s also shagging Louis’ priest for some reason.  It’s the kind of marvellous nonsense that Gossip Girl does so well, made even better by a moment of real feeling when Blair confesses all to Dan, worried that by telling the truth she might just lose everything.  Blair’s transition from spoilt rich girl to a young woman coming to terms with the fact that everything she thought she wanted might not bring her happiness might not be the most original story on TV, but Leighton Meester sells every side of Blair’s character so well that it’s close to captivating.  Everything else on offer this week had the unfortunate feel of plot wheels being put steadily in motion, as Nate has sex with Elizabeth Hurley (again), Chuck continues to seek physical pain to numb his emotional distress (yawn) and Ivy manages to insinuate herself into Serena’s life without even really trying.  It’s this latter story that has the most potential, and there was certainly some fun to be add from Serena wantonly insisting that Ivy (who we already know to be Very Bad News) live with her in a glamorous beach house that she manages to find by one quick phone call.  Really, she couldn’t get any stupider, could she?  On another note: where’s Lily?

Homeland, Season 1, Episode 1: Pilot

So far, this is easily the best TV pilot of the year, and it’s hard to imagine anything topping it over the next few months.  Following her endless string of accolades for Temple Gradin, Clare Danes returns to TV once more with a difficult, rich performance as CIA agent Carrie Anderson, who receives Intel from a prisoner in Baghdad that an American POW has been “turned.”  When, several months later, Sergeant Brody (Damien Lewis) is rescued by US troops eight years after he went missing, presumed dead, she’s instantly suspicious.  When her old agency buddy Saul refuses to endorse her “hunch,” Carrie hires from outside to have Brody’s home rigged with surveillance cameras so that she can carry on her own investigation.  The writers have been very smart in what they choose to reveal at this early stage.  We’re drawn in by Carrie’s investigation, but how much of her suspicion is based on a need to prove herself again within the agency, or her own paranoid state of mind?  Danes’ portrayal is quite something (especially on a second viewing), mixing her usual plucky young heroine with shades of neurosis, danger and self-combustion.  Lewis is equally as good, in what is perhaps the slightly easier role of war veteran returning to his family.  His wife Irene (Firefly’s Morena Baccarin) is, unbeknownst to Brody, sleeping with an army pal of his, whilst also struggling to bridge the gulf that has opened up with their teenage daughter.  The family reunion, and the coming to terms with both the intense media interest and the return of a man everyone thought had died eight years ago elicits one horrifying scene.  Irene, following an awkward attempt at seduction, is stricken by the scars covering her husband’s body; her renewed efforts are met with a violence belied by Brody’s calm exterior.  In an interesting touch, the scene is filtered through Carrie’s viewpoint who takes off her headphones as soon as Brody exhibits violence, only to reconsider and replace them.  It’s a smart nod to the voyeurism that we as the audience are also culpable to.  Does this scene reveal something about Brody other than the fact that he has spent the last eight years imprisoned and tortured?  If so, what exactly?  Homeland is smart to offer its audience another set of stakes: we’re not only drawn in by the fact that Brody might be a terrorist, but we also care about his family, and about Carrie’s professional reputation.  It’s a complex episode of TV that never loses sight of the emotional simplicities underpinning it.  In addition, it manages the seemingly impossible job of being emotionally engaging whilst also being exciting.  Superb.

Pan Am, Season 1, Episode 2: We’ll Always Have Paris

Whilst not quite as much fun as the sudsy pilot episode, “We’ll Always Have Paris” ties off a few loose ends, gives some of its characters a bit more room to breathe and plays mostly to its actors’ strengths.  The main source of friction this week was the appearance of Kate and Laura’s mother, who at first seems to genuinely want to help, but who quickly shows her true colours by revealing that she’s brought along Laura’s ex-fiancé on a trip to Paris in the hope of reuniting the two.  Flashbacks reveal what was implicit in the previous episode: that Laura has always been the good girl, and Laura the disappointment.  Even though the reunion between mother and daughter went in exactly the direction you expected it to all along, it was sold on the strength of Kelli Garner’s spirited performance.  Elsewhere, the pilot’s storyline (he’s still looking for Bridget) was made much more entertaining by the addition of Collette, who really gets a chance to fly with the character in this episode, as does Christina Ricci in a substandard subplot about a passenger trying it on with her in the cabin (“I’m not included in the price of your ticket!”).  Thankfully, there’s more than a little enjoyment to be had from Ricci’s forced bonhomie and sass, so I’ll let that one slide.  Not a stellar episode, per se, but it does everything that a second episode needs to do in terms of tying everything off before embarking on the series proper.

Revenge, Season 1, Episode 3: Betrayal

Another strongly realised episode, containing a tight mini-revenge plot (with bigger stakes), and some impressive world-building.  This week’s target is Senator Tom Kingsley who, back in the day, prosecuted her father even after hearing last minute testimony that would have cleared his name.  Emily rather neatly brings about his resignation from public life by ferreting out an ex-mistress who’s carrying his child, thus not only ruining his career, but also his family.  It’s a drastic move that, similarly to last week’s manufactured financial meltdown, had a lot of collateral damage.  It’s this shading of grey that’s going to prove most interesting over the coming weeks, as Emily is no longer simply exacting revenge on the people that put her father behind bars, but also those tangentially connected to them.  Not only that, but this episode suggested that some of those people involved might not be as guilty as Emily believes them to be.  Especially ambiguous was Emily leading Daniel to a restaurant where the brother of the waitress he injured in a car accident works.  After he reveals to Emily what happened, she persuades him to visit his ex-girlfriend and face up to what he’s done.  Since this is in direct opposition to his mother’s condition that spared Daniel jail time, it’s also a move against Victoria, but Daniel’s tenuous status as one of the good guys is surely going to make Emily’s grand scheme somewhat harder.  Not only that, but a flashback suggests that not only did Victoria try to prevent David from being convicted, she might have been strong-armed into the whole thing by her husband.  Although the show has been careful in how much it reveals about Victoria, Madeleine Stowe is doing an excellent job of humanising her, something which Ringer could learn from in its Paris sections.  The ongoing storyline relating to Jack and Declan was, again, underwhelming but, again, I’m still intrigued as to how this will play out in Emily’s grand scheme.  Perfect froth.

Ringer, Season 1, Episode 4: It’s Gonna Kill Me, But I’ll Do It

Well would you look at that…something approaching character development.  Following last week’s resolution to make more effort with one another, Andrew whisks Bridget away to the Hamptons for her birthday, inviting Henry and Gemma along with them.  Awkward!  Meanwhile, we also get to see more of Siobhan’s mysterious dealings with that financial investment guy from last week, and from her past with Henry.  This is framed by a sweet story about Bridget and Siobhan trading a necklace back and forth on their birthdays, a storyline that seemed fairly pointless but did suggest that somewhere underneath all of these plot machinations there’s a real familial bond between the two that should prove interesting once things (finally) come to a head.  By far the most interesting reveal was Gemma overhearing not only that Siobhan has been having an affair with her husband, but that Siobhan is in fact Bridget.  Thankfully, the writers realised that none of this would be much fun without a few bells and whistles, so we’re treated to an utterly ridiculous birthday surprise meal on the beach, one good bitch slap and Agent Machado stalking around the property in search of Siobhan’s cell phone records.  Ringer might not be good, but it’s approaching enjoyable.

Terra Nova, Season 1, Episode 1: Pilot

After the failure of the previous Stephen Spielberg-produced TV show this year, Falling Skies, expectations were diminished for Terra Nova.  In many ways, the two shows are very similar (they certainly both have several prerequisite Spielbergian elements), but Terra Nova is perhaps a slight improvement insomuch as it focuses on action rather than the tired family dynamic that crippled Falling Skies.  In a Minority Report­-like future, Jim Shannon is imprisoned when the authorities discover that his family are hiding a forbidden third child.  Imprisoned for several years, he escapes and, along with his family, escapes to “Terra Nova,” a Cretaceous period utopia that might be able to offer hope for the survival of mankind.  This is the sort of television that you would label “adequate.”  The tensions within the Shannon family (rebellious teenage son, geeky daughter, brave/resourceful wife) are drawn large, with little room for ambiguity or tension.  The action scenes are about as spectacular as you can expect big budget TV to be, and although a lot of money has clearly been spent on the dinosaur effects, they’re no more impressive than, say, the spaceship battles on Battlestar Galactica.  The show that Terra Nova most resembles, however, is Lost.  Its group of characters stranded in an unusual locale, with hints in the first episode at a mystery relating to Future Earth and a renegade group of settlers with an unknown agenda bring to mind the monster hit whose imprint can be felt in pretty much every TV “event” of the past few years.  As pilot episodes go, it’s not bad, but it doesn’t inspire hope that Terra Nova will have anything to offer besides some decent special effects and a lot of clunky exposition.

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