Baby Yoda, I Love You

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything on this site, and I’m sorry to say it’s because I’ve discovered that I need to be profoundly influenced by something pop-culture to feel compelled to write about it. Love, hate. I can’t do the in-between, except to mutter an unimpressed “meh”. But that brings me to my subject. Fluffy subscribed to Disney+ the day it dropped (actually was presubscribed; I’m a Disneyphile like that). I immediately watched the live-action remake of Lady and the Tramp (well worth checking out) and my husband, a Star Wars-head, settled down to watch the first episode of the first live action show set in that universe, The Mandalorian.

I’ll admit I didn’t watch it with him, and that I took it with more than a grain of salt when he told me he thought I’d find it interesting. I’ve always been more of a Star Trek girl, and he watches a lot of shows I find boring. Cut to a few days later. I’m walking into the room whilst the Fluffy Hubby is watching the second episode.

Me: Squeeeeeee!!!! WTF!!! It’s a little baby Yoda!!!!

Hubby: Yeah, it’s his bounty. He’s supposed to take it back to–

Me: It’s in a little pod! What is that?

Hubby: It’s his crib, or bassinet, or something.

Me: Look at him floating!!!! OMG I LOVE HIM!!!!

I flopped down, enraptured, and watched the entire episode while the hubby answered my questions and I exclaimed with delight over Baby Yoda eating frogs, trying to heal the Mandalorian, then saving him with the Force and getting so tuckered out he had to take a nap. I immediately went back and watched the first episode to fill in my blanks, fully obsessed now.

It was a long week waiting for a new episode, and it didn’t disappoint. It was a roller coaster ride of a show, in which I found myself talking to the TV (“You’d better not let those bad guys hurt Baby Yoda!”) and gasping and putting my hand over my mouth like a little kid (when Mando found Baby Yoda’s pod thrown out in the trash). I even cheered when Mando rescued the little one and escaped to safety with him. Way to go, other Mandalorians! Way to go, Baby Yoda! You can play with that control knob all you want!

Of course by this time, you just know I wanted a Baby Yoda all my own. Unfortunately, Baby Yoda plushies are not yet a thing. In order to keep my favorite child’s existence a secret and avoid spoilers until after the premiere, no merchandise featuring Baby Yoda was in production until after said premiere, and now that it’s available, the lack of variety is stunning. It’s all the same concept art slapped on t-shirts and mugs, with nary a plushie in sight. Disappointed, I am.

However, the good news is that if you are as obsessed with Baby Yoda as I am, the internet is your friend, turning up fan-made videos and songs and memes. It appears I’m not the only one who loves Baby Yoda so, so much.

Today’s fourth episode was an excellent outing for the little tyke as well, where he got to do cute things like slurp soup while watching Mando face off with Cara Dune, and play with human children and spit out the frog he was going to eat.

It’s really hard to wait for new episodes of the Baby Yoda Show– oops, The Mandalorian. Here’s hoping we get some better merchandise in time for the holidays (Fluffy Hubby was already searching for it, too) and that nothing bad happens to Baby Yoda. I love him, and if he gets hurt, I rebel.

Doctor Who Series 8 Premiere: The SeriouslyFluffy Reaction

For everyone who has been eagerly counting down the days to the season premiere, the wait is over and first episode of the new series, “Deep Breath”, is now history.  So how did it stack up?  Was it everything we hoped for?  And, most importantly, are we going to love the Twelfth Doctor as much as we loved Nine, Ten, and Eleven?

First things first, I’m a realist (sorry, couldn’t resist) and wasn’t expecting to have my doors blown off;  a new Doctor’s first episode can be a bit tricky, and doesn’t always set the tone for what’s to come.  For instance, I was particularly underwhelmed by “The Christmas Invasion”, which introduced the world to David Tennant’s Ten, who ended up becoming my favorite Doctor of the rebooted series.  I mean, murderous Christmas trees?  It was one of those episodes that leads true fans to apologize to non-fans who might happen to be watching at their behest;  “I swear, dude, it’s not always like this, I promise you.”  (Other offenders:  “Love and Monsters”, anything featuring the Slitheen.)  As a Regeneration episode, “Deep Breath” is miles better than that, and we get a better sense of who Twelve is than we got from Ten in his debut.  The problem, though, is that Twelve doesn’t seem to have a firm grip on who he is himself, which isn’t helped by Clara’s doubts about him.

Peter Capaldi’s portrayal of Twelve is something Whovians have become unaccustomed to during the tenures of Tennant and Matt Smith, capturing less of the Doctor’s humanity and embracing a dark otherness we haven’t really seen since Christopher Eccleston’s embittered (and underrated) Nine, and he encapsulates that perfectly in one line to Clara:  “I’m not your boyfriend.”  While Ten and Eleven may have been Doctors you could take home to Mom, eminently earnest and crush-worthy (with great hair), Twelve is more akin to Nine: dangerous, perhaps a bit feral, not at home in his own skin, and sternly alien.  In taking the Doctor back in this direction, Capaldi is the ideal embodiment of the role– weathered, fierce, strange.  From his “independently cross” eyebrows to his steely demeanor, this Doctor is decidedly uncuddly, and that is at the root of Clara’s unease with his new incarnation.  She isn’t ready to cut ties from Eleven, and she and Twelve both suffer some horror at the apparent aging his body has undergone in the regeneration process.  It’s beautifully played, with restraint on the part of Jenna Coleman as Clara and delightful bombast from Capaldi;  it comes across as the antithesis of Ten’s regeneration, in which Rose suddenly found herself almost in the role of fairy-tale princess, having been kissed by a Doctor who defined himself as a “monster” and watching him regenerate into a handsome prince with whom she has oodles of electric chemistry.  Clara, on the other hand, has observed her handsome prince’s sea-change into a wild, defiant, inscrutable stranger with an unfamiliar face and harsh manner to match.  We can understand her diffidence, if not sympathize with it– he’s still the Doctor, after all, and it actually takes a cameo phone call from Eleven to convince her to stay on with Twelve.  Would you or I need that much persuasion?  Probably not, because, you know, the Doctor, (Time Lord, hello?) but at least we get her squeamishness to an extent.

The setup for the episode is amusing– a dinosaur appears in the middle of the Thames in Victorian London, and it hacks up the TARDIS, Twelve, Clara and all.  All in a day’s work for Vastra, Jenny and Strax (why don’t the Paternoster Gang have their own show by now?), who take in Clara and the confused Doctor.  While Vastra tries to talk Clara out of her angst, the Doctor wanders out in search of the dinosaur, for which he feels responsible, only to see it immolated before his eyes.  It seems spontaneous combustion is on the rise in London, and after the Doctor and Clara reunite due to a puzzling newspaper ad that neither of them placed, they discover that the restaurant in which they find themselves is just a front for the same clockwork automatons we saw in “The Girl in the Fireplace”, who are reaping spare parts from the population to keep themselves running and burning the bits they don’t need.  Clara forgets herself and resumes bickering with the Doctor like old times, only to find herself abandoned when they make their escape and recaptured when she can no longer keep up a pretense of being an unbreathing droid (ergo, “Deep Breath”).  Is this new Doctor really cold enough to leave his companion to her fate?  Of course not– this is still the Doctor we’re talking about.  Some truly harrowing action sequences ensue as Vastra, Jenny and Strax arrive on the scene to kick butt and, in the case of Strax, provide some comic relief, and the Doctor finds himself embattled with the head automaton in a hot air balloon.  The Doctor destroys the automaton by impaling it on the spire of Big Ben, which results in the other robots abruptly losing power and crumpling to the floor as they close in on Clara and the Paternosters.  The Doctor once again disappears, but resurfaces to take Clara home if that’s what she really wants.  After taking a call from Eleven, who tells her that Twelve needs her, Clara decides to remain with the Doctor and help him as he discovers more about the man he has become.  She hugs him, which he now finds awkward in his new incarnation, and they leave together for coffee.   But that’s not the end.  We cut to a beautiful garden where the droid that the Doctor presumably killed meets a woman who introduces herself only as Missy and informs it that it has reached Heaven, and that the Doctor is her “boyfriend”.  O-Kay.

That last bit foreshadows what may be a major story arc.  Showrunner Stephen Moffatt doesn’t deal in red herrings– everything in his Whoniverse ties in to everything else, and since he penned this episode himself, surely this Missy is going to be a major player, but whether for good or ill– and whether or not she is in any way connected to River Song– is a mystery.  Something to ponder for the ensuing Series Eight, and it’s definitely got me hooked.

As a whole, it was one of the better regenerations in terms of how it was handled and the performances involved (seriously, who doesn’t love the Paternosters?), and while I’ve seen other critics decrying the need for a Matt Smith cameo, I felt it tied the episode together– it felt good to have a farewell moment, and it detracted nothing from our new Doctor, who may not know his true heart(s) yet, but who is obviously his own epic win of a man.

 

 

Hate the State of TV? Never Fear, Brit Telly Is Here

I’ve often bashed the current state of American television– I can at the moment boast of only two stateside shows I love unconditionally, HBO’s Game of Thrones and the CW’s Reign.  Not coincidentally, both shows are costume dramas featuring a lot of British accents (the Thrones cast is predominantly British, and while Reign‘s cast is a mix of Canadian, Australian and British actors that takes place in France, it has a distinctly UK feel).  While I’m sure there are exceptions to the rule, most of them on cable and a few I’ve been a casual viewer of, for me American TV kind of died with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and hasn’t recovered in well over a decade, becoming an increasingly slippery slope of competition shows and reality series that either bore me to tears or make me feel somehow ignorant or, worse, dirty for watching at all.  Within the last couple of years, I’ve rediscovered my love of the format through the sheer number of British television productions that still get it right, and of which I don’t feel guilty in the least for binge-watching.  I’ve decided to catalog some of my favorites here as I’m sure there are many people as disgusted with the idiot box as I was before and a little England might just give them hope too.  (On a side note, isn’t it amusing how we keep making Americanizations of British shows that just don’t work?  A few caught on, such as The Office, but for the most part the only ones that have lasted are competition shows like X Factor and American Idol, our version of the UK’s Pop Idol.)

Doctor Who

This is, of course, the gateway drug.  Doctor Who recently celebrated 50 years on the air, though it took a long sabbatical from the late 80’s up to 2005, when the new series began.  I’ve been meaning to catch up with classic Who, but keep getting sidetracked by other shows which, while not as famous, are equally as good.  Fortunately, previous knowledge of the Whoniverse isn’t a requirement to enjoy the reboot, though it certainly helps with your geek cred.  The modern series begins with the Ninth Doctor (Christopher Eccleston) and will continue this fall with the Twelfth (Peter Capaldi).  If you’re not familiar with the concept, the Doctor is a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey who believes he was responsible for the destruction of his home world and has the ability to travel nearly anywhere in space and time with the aid of a ship called the TARDIS, which looks exactly like an old police call box due to a dysfunctional chameleon circuit and is bigger on the inside (which is a running joke throughout).  He can also regenerate when his body dies, a convention that has made it possible for a number of different actors to portray him over the years, and thanks to the time-traveling nature of the series, makes for some intriguing viewing when the Doctor encounters other versions of himself.  Usually accompanied by earthling companions drawn to the adventure of traveling anywhere and anywhen in the universe, he attempts to right wrongs, stop villains, save worlds, and generally keep the timeline on an even keel.  The series is addictive fun in the extreme, and has something for everyone:  beautifully-rendered battle scenes, formidable baddies, humor, romantic tension (the companions are often female and really, really into him) and amazing acting all around.  The actors who have played the Doctor are all excellent;  your mileage may vary, but my favorite is Ten (David Tennant), though Eccleston as Nine tends to be underrated, and Matt Smith’s Eleven is probably the most fun.  The jury is still out on Twelve, who only had about a minute and a half of screen time in last season’s finale, but I have seen him in other projects and can attest that Capaldi is a fine actor more than capable of filling the shoes.  As for the companions, the first one we meet in the reboot, Rose Tyler (Billie Piper) is by far the one with the meatiest story and the best chemistry with the two actors who portray the Doctor opposite her, though Eleven’s companion Amy Pond (Karen Gillan) and her boyfriend/later husband Rory Williams (Arthur Darvill) come close, and others over the course of the series, such as Freema Agyeman’s Martha Jones and Catherine Tate’s Donna Noble, have great moments as well.  Current companion Clara Oswald (Jenna Coleman) has grown on me, and I hope her character is fleshed out a little more in the seasons to come.  All in all, the series is a total treat and I wish the new season would hurry up and get here.  I could go on all day about the merits of one Doctor over the other, various plotlines, and whether Daleks or Cybermen are scarier, but since this is a composite post, I must refrain. (Sad face)

Torchwood

Torchwood is a Doctor Who spinoff, focusing on sometime companion Captain Jack Harkness, a popular enough character on the original show to rate his own highly watchable series.  Set in Cardiff, Wales, it follows the adventures of Harkness as leader of the Torchwood Institute, a top-secret organization founded by Queen Victoria to deal with the threat of creatures not of this world.  In the show, Cardiff happens to be the site of an unstable rift in spacetime (think Buffy’s Hellmouth, with fewer vampires and equal possibilities for disaster), and it is the job of the Torchwood team to monitor the rift and maintain the peace.  The show is darker in tone than Doctor Who, with more adult themes (Captain Jack is bisexual and embarks on a long-term relationship with coworker Ianto Jones), more gore, more sex, and more swearing, but it’s great fun nonetheless.  John Barrowman as Jack is a formidable presence, and as his character is accidentally immortal due to circumstances at the end of the first season of Doctor Who, damn near indestructible, and can almost always be counted on to save the day.  His team consists of complicated people with complex problems of their own;  Eve Myles is a standout as Gwen Cooper, a former cop trying to balance her dangerous job with a stable home life, as is Gareth David-Lloyd as Ianto, Jack’s love interest who hid a dark secret of his own in Torchwood’s lower reaches for years. The rest of the cast is excellent as well– Burn Gorman as Owen Harper, the team’s cynical and conflicted doctor, is a particular favorite of mine– though in the final season the show moves to America and while the new cast (the only holdovers are Jack and Gwen) are capable, it fails to recapture the chemistry of the original team.  I’m not saying to skip the last season by any means, as it’s still entertaining and the characters still grow, but the earlier seasons are the best.  I do, however, suggest skipping companion show Web of Lies, an animated (rotoscoped) piece that offers a different perspective on events that happened in Season Four– while it fills a certain plot hole, it really adds nothing of importance to the proceedings, and the rotoscoping is both poorly done and distracting in the extreme.  Unless you’re a completist, don’t bother.

Sherlock

Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson are moved to present-day London in this update of Arthur Conan-Doyle’s classic novel series.  Benedict Cumberbatch is a powerhouse Sherlock, whose chilly demeanor is offset by his blunt, quirky humor (and his gorgeous blue eyes, and distinctive, sexy baritone– but I digress).  Martin Freeman, no stranger to movie-loving geeks like myself (he’s played both Arthur Dent and Bilbo Baggins), is a perfectly cast foil as Watson, the voice of reason to Holmes’s anything-goes approach.  Freeman is a bit tougher than he looks in the role– his Watson is a Gulf veteran, a crack shot, and not afraid of fisticuffs– and Cumberbatch is nothing short of divine.  His Sherlock is a self-professed “high-functioning sociopath”, manipulative, capable of using people for his own ends, snarky and unpredictable, yet wholly human and delightfully compelling to watch– and not just because he’s easy on the eyes, but also an imposing, scarily-intelligent force of nature.  Each episode of the series is feature-length, but the downside is that there are only three episodes in each season for a total of nine, and there’s typically a two-year wait between seasons while Cumberbatch and Freeman work on other high-profile projects.  It’s just not enough, and the usual cliffhanger season finales create an almost physical craving for more.  Despite the familiar source material, it’s both fresh and surprising, and too awesome to miss;  Freeman has hinted to the press that a one-off episode to air between seasons may be in the works, and if so, I am so there.

Downton Abbey

This is an incredible show– if you’re not familiar with it already, get watching.  A period drama set in the early years of the twentieth century, it follows the lives and loves of an aristocratic family, the Crawleys, and their servants in their ancestral seat, the titular house (more a castle, really) in Yorkshire.  It’s a bit soapy, but in the best kind of way; all of the characters are so wonderfully drawn and portrayed that it’s easy to become invested in them.  The acting is top-notch, and it’s fascinating to see the social mores of an earlier era play out.  Circumstances we take for granted today were taboo in this era:  youngest Crawley daughter Sibyl creates a scandal by marrying the family chauffeur, eldest child Lady Mary cannot inherit the estate because she is a woman, and middle daughter Edith… oh, poor Edith was just born in the wrong time period entirely (to say more would be too spoileriffic).  The lives of the servants are equally interesting, especially those of valet John Bates and his beloved Anna, Mary’s lady’s maid, who endure a seasons-long struggle to be together as his past comes back to haunt him.  And these are only a few of the choice tales herein– the show is a rich tapestry of a time romanticized by many but in reality harsher and more difficult than the modern world we viewers inhabit, especially for those of the working class, though the wealthy were faced with their own problems as well.  Best of all is the incomparable Dame Maggie Smith as Dowager Countess Violet Crawley, a sharp-witted, sharp-tongued matriarch with a ready retort for any situation (her performance has caused me to spray Diet Coke out of my nose more than once).  Another plus?  Absorbing the history of the era, from the sinking of the Titanic to World War I to the Roaring Twenties, will make you feel oh-so-educated while you’re being entertained.

Primeval

 

Another Sci-Fi program (what can I say, the Brits do them better than anyone else), Primeval has a fun premise– what if spacetime anomalies allowed long-extinct creatures to enter and wreak havoc on the modern world?  When strange creatures are reported in the Forest of Dean, where science professor Nick Cutter’s wife Helen disappeared without a trace eight years ago, he believes there is a connection and he and his lab assistant/best buddy Stephen Hart take to the woods to check it out, with nerdy grad student Connor Temple tagging along.  There they meet up with Abby Maitland, a zookeeper attempting to find the origins of an unusual flying lizard that a local child had befriended, and some very large dinosaurs.  Things get crazier from there on out– the Home Office gets involved via liason Claudia Brown and her long-suffering boss James Lester, who wants to avert the nationwide panic that would surely ensue if word of the anomalies gets out.  Despite the show’s “Creature of the Week” plots, the over-arcing mystery of what happened to Helen is the main concern– it turns out she’s still alive, and has an ugly private agenda.  There are some stellar special effects, but once again the real joy is in the characters themselves, particularly Hannah Spearitt as Abby and Andrew Lee Potts as Connor, whose awkward interactions mask deeper and unrequited feelings for one another, and Douglas Henshall as the angst-ridden Cutter.  While the premise might sound like a great kids’ show, it gets pretty dark– there are major character deaths, and some of the creatures are pure nightmare fuel.  It’s an absorbing, edge-of-the-seat watch (and not just because I’m an Andrew Lee Potts fangirl– seriously, he makes sexy-geek an art form.  Amirite, ladies?).  And since I haven’t finished watching it yet (I just started Season Four), please don’t spoilerize me if you’ve already seen it!

Pride and Prejudice 

While the miniseries seems to have died off stateside, I’d be remiss if I didn’t note that the BBC is the undisputed champion of the format, and there are a great many remarkable ones hiding out there to add to your queue.  This one, however, is the creme de la creme— a classic in its own right, far superior to the Keira Knightley film, which I saw before this but can’t watch anymore because of it.  I love Jane Austen, and have devoured everything she ever wrote, and this is by far the best adaptation of any of her works that I’ve been privileged to watch.  For one thing, it’s difficult to pack all of her characters’ nuances into a two-hour movie, and most of them seem rushed.  It takes a miniseries to really do them justice, and this one is note-perfect.  Jennifer Ehle’s Elizabeth Bennett captures the role’s keen wit and sense of the ridiculous better than Knightley’s overly earnest take, the cinematography is brighter and more lush, and Colin Firth IS.  MR.  DARCY.  I honestly can’t even remember the name of the actor who played him in the movie version, but there is no comparison to be made anyway.  Firth just embodies the character in a way I can’t see anyone else doing.  Swoon.  This miniseries is so beloved in its native UK that it was a running joke in Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones novels, with the punchline of Firth actually being cast as Bridget’s love interest in the subsequent movies.  As I said, there is no comparison between Firth and Matthew Macfadyen (THAT’S his name!), but there IS, however, a comparable performance in a miniseries of another classic British novel…

North and South 

This is not a rendering of John Jakes’s American Civil War soaper of the 80’s, but rather of Elizabeth Gaskell’s 1854 novel about the social differences of England’s rural south and industrial north country, sadly little known in the US, but well worth a read as well as a watch.  The tale centers on Margaret Hale (a luminous Daniela Denby-Ashe), a southern minister’s daughter who must move to the gritty northern industrial town of Milton when her father resigns his parish in a crisis of faith.  At first she is intimidated by the living conditions and the blunt, outspoken ways of the local mill workers, but in time she adapts to her new situation, makes friends, and continually clashes with mill owner John Thornton. The smoking hot Richard Armitage as Mr. Thornton is really the only role on film I find on a level with Colin Firth’s turn as Mr. Darcy, though for different (but equally swoon-worthy) reasons.  Both actors ooze with a magnetic charisma, but where Firth becomes charmingly awkward, Armitage has a slight dangerous edge, a man of equal parts pride and temper.  And who among us doesn’t love a bad boy?  Especially when there’s a good girl right there to redeem him?  By the time our reluctant lovebirds overcome all their obstacles and get to their first kiss, we’ve lived through four hours’ worth of romantic tension you could cut with a knife, but the payoff is so worth it.  I have to rate it my number one favorite kiss in the history of film, and I’ve seen a lot of films.  You can practically feel Armitage’s beard stubble;  it’s that good.  Forget about 50 Shades of Grey.  It has nothing on a 160-year-old novel with no sex in it.

Mansfield Park

As I said earlier, I’ve read all of Jane Austen’s works, and Mansfield Park is, by a long shot, my least favorite.  Compared to Austen heroines like Lizzy Bennett or the Dashwood sisters, Fanny Price is quite a dull girl indeed, and not much really happens throughout the novel.  Sadly, it doesn’t film well, either, and this is by far the weakest of the British miniseries I’ve watched of late.  The actors are able enough, but they’re not given much to do;  Billie Piper (formerly Rose Tyler on Doctor Who) as Fanny seems to be trying very hard to bring some life and vivacity to her character, but as written she doesn’t do much more than scamper up and down staircases and provide an occasional narrative voiceover.  That said, it is a pretty production, in spite of the obvious anachronisms in terms of hairstyles and dances (the waltz performed at the end wouldn’t be invented for a good many years, and a young lady of Fanny’s age wouldn’t have fathomed being seen in public with her hair down during the Regency period, even if she was a poor relation).  Perhaps I went in expecting not to like it, as it is based on my least favorite Austen novel and the only one I haven’t read multiple times, but the screenplay could have been stronger– it comes across as the sort of thing you’d observe in an exceptionally literate child playing at Austen with her Barbie dolls.  At least it looks nice for the most part;  I watched it because I like Austen and I like Billie Piper, but the novel, in my humble opinion, is no more a feather in Austen’s cap than the role of Fanny Price is in Piper’s, so I guess it’s exactly what I expected.

Honorable Mention:  Orphan Black

This one squeaks in on a couple of technicalities.  For one, it’s not a UK series, it’s a Canadian one.  However, it does air here on BBC America, so I’m letting it count, because it’s really really good, and Canada still has the Queen on its money, so that should count for something.  It’s the story of a grifter named Sarah who discovers she’s one of a number of clones, all played brilliantly by Tatiana Maslany, who is an absolute revelation.  She takes on several widely disparate roles and imbues each of them with an entire three-dimensional personality.  Even if all the clones wore the same hairstyle, it would be an easy matter to tell which character is which in Maslany’s chameleon-like performance.  She even has to play a clone pretending to be a different clone at times, and it’s still easy to tell who’s who.  I am seriously in awe of her ability.  But don’t get so blown away by Maslany that you don’t pay attention to the plot, because it moves quickly.  I’m not caught up on the current season yet– its Season Two premiere was just a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve only finished Season One– but it’s looking to be as awesome as its first, with the introduction of clones we haven’t met yet or have met only briefly, and Sarah growing closer to the truth behind the cloning project.  Enjoy– I know I will.

So there we have a number of reasons why the telly doesn’t completely suck.  There’s a little something for everyone in my sampling– lots of action and Sci-Fi, plenty of romance, a dollop of mystery and a goodly helping of costume drama.  All with lovely accents and none of the trash factor I’ve come to expect out of American TV– the perfect antidote to the Real Housewives of Kardashian Ducky Boo Boo or whatever passes for entertainment here these days.  And if you have any other suggestions, please let me know in the comments!

“Game of Thrones” Season 4 Premiere: The SeriouslyFluffy Reaction

The moment that geeks everywhere have been breathlessly awaiting has finally arrived.  The Game of Thrones Season 4 premiere has now come and gone.  After the crazy events of last season, is our favorite show going to be able to meet the high bar it has already raised?  For those of us who read the books, we know that much more magically delicious drama is to come, but you won’t find any spoilers for future episodes from me– I’m just here to announce that the premiere episode, “Two Swords”, despite being mainly expository, thoroughly rocked.

We open with the melting down of the late Ned Stark’s mammoth Valyrian sword, Ice, and its reforging into a new piece gifted to Jaime Lannister by his father, Tywin.  Tywin has an ulterior motive, of course:  he wants Jaime to retire from the Kingsguard and go back to Casterley Rock, having little faith in his now one-handed son as a protector of the crown.  Yeah, right.  Jaime essentially tells Dad to piss off, he’s not going anywhere, and Tywin washes his hands of him.  Speaking of hands, Cersei has had a new prosthetic one crafted for Jaime out of solid gold, but still can’t seem to find the old “brotherly” love with him (*giggle, snort*) or even let him touch her.  After all the hardships Jaime endured to get back to his sister/lover, she coldly informs him he “took too long.”  Ouch.  That Cersei, always the life of the party!  Meanwhile, Tyrion has been entrusted with escorting the newly arrived Prince of Dorne, Oberyn Martell, to King’s Landing for King Joffrey’s upcoming wedding celebration, but he finds Oberyn and his lover Ellaria Sand are already in town, cooking up a foursome in Littlefinger’s famous brothel and stirring up trouble with some minor Lannisters.  There is no love lost between House Lannister and House Martell– Oberyn’s sister was the wife of the last crown prince of the Targaryens, and was murdered by Lannister bannerman Gregor Clegane during Robert’s Rebellion– and it looks like Prince Oberyn might be spoiling for revenge.  As if that weren’t enough drama for Tyrion, his unwilling bride Sansa has understandably hit rock bottom following the murders of her mother and brother, and in this case misery doesn’t want company–she wants to be left alone.  Tyrion’s mistress Shae is jealous of Tyrion’s attempts to comfort Sansa, but he turns down her seductive moves.  Brienne and Jaime butt heads about his promise to release the Stark daughters upon his return to King’s Landing, which he helpfully points out is impossible since Arya is missing and presumed dead and now Sansa is his brother’s wife.  Sansa is approached by Ser Dontos, the knight whose life she spared from Joffrey’s wrath way back when she was still engaged to the nasty little weasel, and he gifts her with a jeweled necklace.  (A side note to ASOIAF readers– is this necklace going to stand in for the jeweled hair net?  I wonder…)

Approaching the next slaver empire she intends to conquer and liberate, we find Daenerys enjoying some downtime with her dragons, who are growing ever bigger and more unpredictable, causing even Dany to be a little afraid of them.  A new actor, Michiel Huisman, is now portraying Daario Naharis, thank GOD, since last season’s He-Man wannabe was woefully miscast and won’t be missed;  the newcomer has far more chemistry with Emilia Clarke as Dany, evidenced by their flirtation over some local flora– Ser Jorah must be gnashing his teeth and looking baleful somewhere close by.  As Dany and company begin the march to Meereen, they are met by a gruesome sight– a crucified slave has been placed at every mile marker on her path to the city (talk about a major “Up yours!”).  Rather than taking this as the warning it was obviously meant to be, Dany is instead filled with anger and resolve, demanding to see each dead slave’s face before they are taken down and buried.  Did I mention there were 163 of them?  That’s 163 more reasons for Dany to go Dracarys on Meereen’s collective kiester when she gets there… a prospect I’m definitely looking forward to.  The Mother of Dragons in ass-kicking mode is a force like no other.

We’re treated to some northerly angst in the form of Ygritte angrily fletching arrows and refusing to talk about Jon Snow, whom she ventilated with a few arrows as he made his way back to Castle Black last season.  The wildling raiding party is joined by some creepy bald cannibals, and Jon Snow, mostly recovered from his ex’s longbow attack, finds the time to grieve for his murdered brother in his stoic Jon Snow way before coming to trial for his actions beyond the wall, namely for killing Qhorin Halfhand and breaking his vows of celibacy with wildling Ygritte.  Maester Aemon spares his life, believing in Jon’s reasonings and loyalty.

We touch base with the King’s Landing set again as Margaery and her grandmother prepare for the wedding and Joffrey insults Jaime over his lack of a hand and lack of great deeds in the history of the Kingsguard, before joining Arya and the Hound on the road.  Arya is tired of riding the same horse with the Hound and wants her own, which the Hound informs her is out of the question, since she will certainly flee and he won’t collect the sweet ransom money he hopes to get out of her loony Aunt Lysa at the Aerie.  They come upon an inn and the jerkass who captured Arya and her friends back in Season Two, Polliver.  Arya sees he still has her sword, Needle, which he stole from her at her capture, and wants revenge for his killing her friend Lommy with a stab to the throat.  Polliver tries to suck up to the Hound, who’s having none of it, and mayhem ensues.  Once Polliver is down and defeated, Arya takes back her sword, taunting Polliver with the very words he said to Lommy before she calmly skewers him in the throat just as he had done to her friend.  Cut to Arya and the Hound riding away together, Arya finally on her own horse… and fade to credits.

This episode was all the stuff I love most about GOT— the greatest strength of this sprawling world is its characters, both as they were originally imagined by George R.R. Martin and as they are brought to life by their respective actors.  My favorites have always been Clarke as Daenerys and Maisie Williams as Arya, but they are currently joined by Nikolaj Coster-Waldau as Jaime and Rory McCann as the Hound.  Jaime’s journey has been particularly interesting, as he has evolved from the arrogant attempted-child-murderer of Season One to the maimed, conflicted, and ultimately sympathetic character of tonight’s episode.  Jaime has learned a lot, and Coster-Waldau’s world-weary performance has given the Kingslayer a humanity that a lesser actor could not have accomplished.  McCann has the even less savory task of making the Hound– an actual child-murderer with highly suspect motivations– an appealing and yes, FUN character to watch.  He and Williams are a crack team.  They play off of each other effortlessly, two very dark characters with very different M.O.’s, who somehow each bring out the best bad (and highly watchable) traits in the other.  If tonight’s episode is any indicator, this season is shaping up to be a stellar one.

 

Reality Bites? Well, Sometimes.

I kind of hate “reality” or unscripted television shows, which has led me to swearing off most TV-watching altogether– generally I leave on the Disney Channel or BBC America as sort of a background hum, the entertainment equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears and singing “Mary Had a Little Lamb” at the top of my lungs, coupled with the knowledge that if I leave one of those channels on indefinitely, I’m gonna get to see either Phineas and Ferb or Doctor Who at some point.  (A highly disparate set of likes, I know, but whatever.)  Anyway, there has been a media flap about some remarks made by Duck Dynasty cast member Phil Robertson which may or may not have been taken out of context, and which resulted in his indefinite suspension by his network, A&E.  The condemning quotes were from a GQ profile on the patriarch and concerned his views on the LGBT community and the African-American community, and have ignited the internets in firestorm of debate as to whether his suspension was warranted.

As I just said, I don’t watch reality television.  I get quite enough reality in my day-to-day life, thanks, and I keep to scripted work for the same reason I don’t read much nonfiction– I just want to be entertained, dammit, and that means tell me a freaking story.  Just seems like pretty lazy television, if you ask me, simply setting random people loose on camera doing whatever it is they do all day, but that’s neither here nor there;  I seem to be in the minority of the viewing public these days in my preference for actual scripted shows, which should automatically exclude me from being able to give a pertinent opinion on the matter.  However, as a true outsider to the format, I feel I am rather more qualified than most to give an objective opinion which is unswayed by anything I’ve watched, and my opinion is this:  What did you honestly expect?

Yes, I’m stating my opinion in the form of a question, because my real point is that by nature, reality television is just a reflection of the world it inhabits.  Of course you are going to meet some people whose viewpoints are different from yours, or different from society’s in general.  Some people are just jerks, like it or not, and an awful lot of those jerks are going to hide behind the mask of religion to justify their antediluvian beliefs.  I have no beef with faith, but as I’ve expounded in an earlier post, “faith” and “religion” are two different phenomena that often seem to have precious little in common, and the latter tends to twist the ideals of the former to its own purposes.  This has been the cause of countless wars, acts of terrorism, and human rights violations throughout history, but that’s a whole different soap box for a different day.  What I’m driving at is that your heroes are not characters in a story, they are actual people and have actual feet of clay.  But maybe you agree with Phil Robertson’s assertion that gay people are sinful and black people were happier sharecropping.  (I hope you don’t, but that’s just my opinion.)  Real people have a host of idiosyncrasies that can and do make them come out looking like a horse’s ass.  No one is perfect, you see.  And for a network bent on showing “reality”, A&E’s action against Robertson seems a bit hypocritical.  They certainly have a right to choose what opinions should be associated with their network, and I am not in any way defending Phil Robertson’s comments, but they did provide him with a very high-profile forum for the airing of his views.  That he did so in a print article rather than on his show is immaterial– were it not for the show, he likely would not have the very visible venue of a nationally published magazine at his disposal for offhand sound bites.  No one would hear and no one would care.  But Robertson is a “reality” star– a celebrity because a network chose to air him, as he is, warts and all.  He is, after all, a human being, and sometimes we disappoint each other.  That is the malevolent underpinning of the reality genre:  you are either going to be loved or hated for who you are– just like in real life.  And just like in real life, there are bound to be surprises from some quarters, bad or good.

Sometimes the surprises aren’t at all negative.  For instance, take a look at TLC’s Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.  The show’s setup was particularly ugly– Mama June’s family was very obviously given a show based on train-wreck potential, not to be revered but reviled.  (Sadly, it is also human nature to make ourselves feel better about our own lives by ridiculing others.)  However, what we got instead was a picture of a family that may not be perfect, but doesn’t seem to have a concept of hate.  They’ve got their quirks, but they all love each other unconditionally.  Even little Honey Boo Boo herself, Alana Thompson, expressed the opinion “ain’t nothin’ wrong with being a little gay,” in reference to her openly gay uncle Lee, nicknamed “Uncle Poodle.”  There might be laughs on this show, but to all appearances it’s because the people showcased are naturally funny, unpretentious, and positive people.  The same can be said of the Robertsons, as well, if the issue of tolerance is removed;  but the fact remains that both families are “real”, and their opinions, feelings and prejudices are their own.  Unpleasant or not, these are people the networks have chosen to display for one reason or another.  If A&E wanted to be politically correct, the denizens of Duck Dynasty were obviously not the proper mouthpiece, but it can be argued that the network knew exactly what they were getting, and their swift retribution seems spurious– a lesson in asking for forgiveness rather than permission.  Reality is as flawed, as ugly, as lovely and as kind as the people who make it, and so is reality television, and if a network wants to present an image of perfection, maybe they should stick to scripted series.  Rant complete;  if you want to talk, I’ll be watching Doctor Who.  

“Game of Thrones” Season 3 Premiere: The SeriouslyFluffy Reaction

So it’s back– my favorite series of all time.  Obviously I’m happy, though the header photo on this article should point out my main quibble with Season 3’s first episode, “Valar Dohaeris”– there was a notable lack of Arya Stark.  Having read roughly halfway into the book upon which this season and next are based, I know Arya’s in for interesting times, and I love the murderous little scamp– she’s basically a medieval version of Hit Girl, and all the more awesome for that.  Also missing from the proceedings was Arya’s brother Brand, whom I didn’t really miss, except for the fact that his band of misfits is hooking up with Ferb at some point in this season– well, at least the actor who voices Ferb, Thomas Sangster.  What we did get was a bit of a mixed bag.  Not much in the way of action tonight, but a lot of setup, which is always a huge tease with this series.

Last season ended with Sam Tarly surrounded by undead White Walkers in a blinding snowstorm, so of course we pick up immediately where we left off– poor chunky Sam running the 10-minute mile in said blinding snowstorm, stumbling on dead comrades, getting rescued by Ghost the direwolf, and then getting bitched out by his commander– wait a minute, didn’t Jon Snow kill that dude last season?  Is this a dream sequence?  We don’t find out.  This is the only glimpse of that particular storyline we see in this episode.

We get some spanking-new credits with some new clockwork cities that had Fluffy squeeing in delight, having read the books at least this far.  Then we join Jon Snow as he finally gains audience with Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall.  Does Jon have a clue that Ygritte wants him in the worst way?  Hey, can you blame the girl?  For a guy named Snow, he’s smokin’ hot.  Well, if he hadn’t figured it out already, Mance spells it out for him.  This Night’s Watch spy mission involves some deep cover.  Cut back to King’s Landing and we find newly knighted sellsword Bronn sexing it up with one of the show’s infamous, yet somehow generic, prostitutes.  Unfortunately for Bronn, Tyrion’s faithful squire Podrick chooses this moment to summon him.  Tyrion’s having a bad day;  his dad, who hates his guts, just stole his job and kicked him out of his quarters, he’s got a nasty new facial scar from that time at the Battle of Blackwater when his bitchy sister tried to have him murdered, and to make matters worse, the bitchy sister just showed up at his door to… well, just be a bitch.  (If this were Oz, a house would have fallen on Cersei Lannister already.)  Bronn shows up as prompted, but informs Tyrion that if he wants protection, he has to pay for it– knight or not, he is still a sellsword.

Next we find Davos Seaworth, the dullest character in the Seven Kingdoms, looking like beef jerky on an island– guess he didn’t buy the farm at Blackwater after all;  he could’ve won the battle by simply BORING the Lannisters to death, but that’s neither here nor there.  He gets rescued by one of his pirate buddies, whom he persuades to take him back to the defeated Stannis Baratheon at Dragonstone so he can murder Melisandre, Stannis’ creepy guru hooker.  Yeah, good luck with that– this is the chick who gave birth to the frigging shadow-demon that killed Renly.  And back at Harrenhall, Robb Stark is still pissed at his mom Catelyn for setting Jaime Lannister free last season.  Mom had her reasons– the Lannisters currently have Robb’s ditsy sister Sansa in their greedy clutches, and as far as Catelyn knows, her other daughter Arya as well (unbeknownst to Catelyn but knownst to us, Arya is way too smart for that crap and she’s been out of King’s Landing since Ned got beheaded).  So naturally it would be a nice gesture to send back the Lannisters’ captive son in order to get her own kids back, right?  Wrong.  Robb is good at doing what Robb wants, as we saw last season when he wiggled out his engagement to Walder Frey’s granddaughter by blatantly marrying somebody else, so he has dear old Mom treated as a prisoner.  Where are Jaime and Brienne anyway?  We don’t see them this episode either.

Back to King’s Landing and Tyrion, whose Very Bad Day continues with a steaming pile of insults from his dad, Tywin, who denies him as the rightful heir to the family keep.  Sansa Stark is meanwhile enjoying some outdoor time with her handmaid Shae, Tyrion’s secret ex-prostitute girlfriend, when she’s joined by smarmy Petyr Baelish, aka Littlefinger, who seems to be taking her under his oily wing with what may or may not be empty promises of escape.  And then… dragons.  Finally!  Here’s Daenerys, my pick for eventual winner of the Game of Thrones, playing with her winged pets on board a ship approaching Astapor.  Her Dothraki warriors aren’t doing so well, and Dany needs backup in a big way.

When Davos schleps his way back to Dragonstone and tries to kill Melisandre, she thwarts him and he’s arrested– who didn’t see that coming?  Anyway, if you were wondering what our skidmark of a king, Joffrey, was up to, he’s getting annoyed with– or at least confused by– his bride-to-be Margaery Tyrell and her charitable work with the city’s poor.  Cersei tries to put the kibosh on the future queen’s activities, which smacks of jealousy of the girl about to take her title, but Joffrey backs Margaery, at least for now.

Upon reaching Astapor, Dany is checking out slaves– to make up her army, you see.  She’s interested in the brutally trained and highly effective killing machines known as the Unsullied.  We get a squick moment when the slaver cuts up one of the potential soldiers right in front of her to show off their stoicism, but Dany is still feeling iffy about perpetuating slavery.  While she ruminates over this with Jorah, a little girl rolls her a ball– full of poisonous icky mutated death by scorpion.  She’s rescued at this opportune moment by a mysterious old gentleman, and the little girl, really one of those grotty warlocks from back at the House of the Undying, hightails it away.  Dany’s savior is none other than Sir Barristan Selmy,  the scrupulously principled former Captain of the Kingsguard whom we last saw when Joffrey and Cersei canned him at the end of Season One (I think– it may have been the beginning of Season Two).  He’s caught up with Dany to offer her his loyalty.

And that’s the end.  Dammit!  At least I only have to wait a week for the next episode instead of well nigh a year.  This season, if it’s anything like the book, is going to be packed with plot developments all over the place.  That there are so many subplots that all the major characters didn’t fit into a single episode is testimony to the embarrassment of riches we’re in for, and as I said I still haven’t finished the book– it’s massive enough to warrant the two seasons it’s been allotted, and I’m wondering at this point where that midpoint cutoff is going to be.  We can look forward to some awesome action, interesting characters, and hopefully lots of Dany and Arya;  their stories in the books get more engrossing with every page, and their respective actresses, Emilia Clarke and Maisie Williams, bring them to life spectacularly.  And I’m all fidgety waiting for Jon and Ygritte to finally… well, no spoilers from me.  All I can say is that I’m glad my favorite show is back, and how much I’m going to miss it for the long long months after its all-too-brief stay.