It’s a sign of greater experience (and age) when one comes to the realization that in fiction, every story has been told. The series finale for the revived Battlestar Galactica proves that, if but a little. Experiencing fictional archetypes can be disappointing, but only if the details and delivery seem hackneyed, hurried and patronizing towards the audience (or readers).

Last week’s episode of Supernatural was an excellent episode of television, but for someone my age—I turn twenty-nine this year—not only is the story familiar, but so are the details. I’ve grown disappointed in the series this season because it uncannily echoes the mechanics of a 1995 film, The Prophecy. The internecine conflict among the angels of Heaven has overtaken the series’ original theme of two brothers and their hunt against evil.

Maybe the show has become a victim of its own popularity and success. The end of the Yellow-Eyed Demon’s story should have marked the end of the series. Unlike a procedural drama—which in a way it was, at first—a serial like this show is endangered by running out of story. To me, Supernatural has reached that point. A number of shows have done the same. The cruel turn is that we, as viewers, have become so enamored with the characters and now, we are left watching the proverbial trainwreck in slow motion.

Ron Moore, with Battlestar, knew this danger, and worked his damned best to end it. It may not have been the most satisfying ending, but he ended it when he knew it was time, and BSG, for all its faults stands as a story told.

UPDATE, ten minutes after posting. I’m calling the outcome of the season: Sam’s demon bloodoholism is preparation for his being Lucifer’s vessel, being that the denizens of Heaven and Hell are both noncorporeal, and since Satan is such a big bad, he’ll need a strong enough jug to carry his water.

Then when I was working on the first episodes of the series, he needed to have something in his refrigerator. What does he have in his refrigerator? Well, we know he likes yogurt. And then the writer of the second episode, Alfredo Barrios, thought that was funny and so he threw a yogurt into his episode. And once you get a yogurt in a pilot and two episodes, man, you gotta keep going. So it becomes – it’s just sort of fun. At the same time, I will say that it was inspired by some research that we did, or actually discussions that I had with Michael Wilson [consulting producer]. The essence of which is that operatives do find themselves in circumstances where they need cheap sources of healthy protein. Michael Wilson’s preferred source of cheap protein was canned tuna fish. So Michael could just as easily have been a tuna fish man, but we made him a yogurt man.

Matt Nix discusses the prominent role of yogurt in Burn Notice. Jeffrey Donovan tries to offer a more sensible rationale (video, on Hulu.) Yes, it took me this long to get caught up on Burn Notice’s finale, and while the recap from What’s Alan Watching? is good, the sight of seeing Carla unceremoniously shot—yes! Tricia Helfer’s character dies again and again and again, thanks to precedent set by BSG—was extremely satisfying.

“Olivia Dunham, F.B.I. I’m ugly, but for some reason, every dude wants to shag me. I’m remarkably brilliant but it takes a lot of close-up shots of me and my inquisitively, downward-curved lips to figure something out. And I use my womanity, for all its good and bad, when I have a case. Except when I don’t.”

When I read a pre-air review of Fringe as a contemporary interation of The X-Files, I wasn’t too pleased with the idea of another FBI-SciFi show, until it mentioned “flesh eating virus.” Of course, for all us Fringe viewers out there, we all know from the Pilot that it was a chemical agent. It’s a small detail that we can forgive, as viewers, but some of the other aspects of the show, may not be.

I don’t like to review based on first impressions, because if I did, then this “just another FBI lady agent in the world” storyline would have worn me thin very quickly. I set it aside, and allowed myself to be pulled into the story the way only J.J. Abrams could.

What felt like a procedural TV show had a long-running arc that carried through the ten episodes. So far, it is well-executed, with the small details of Mr. Jones and Dunham’s kidnapping at the end of episode ten.

The main strengths of the show are the use of lighting and incidental music to set the tone. There is always a sense of forboding danger, even in the calmest of situations. It seems that Boston is almost always overcast, even on a clear day, and there is a trademark blue flare that happens almost everytime something related to the Pattern is happening. Character development is a little weak: we all know that Peter Bishop has a shady past and the slow reveals of what’s gone on with him has tested my patient. Walter Bishop’s random comments, however, never fail to bring levity to a serious situation. Without Walter’s humor the show would be too severe to enjoy.

I think that casting Massive Dynamic as an Evil Corporation Responsible For The Ills Of The World, which in this case is Pattern-related experimentation, is a bit of a tired tactic and needs to be retired by clearing its name in the future. It’s one thing to cast Nina Sharp as an amoral decision-maker for the company’s interests, it’s another to cast it as the Source Of All Evil. We’ve seen it too many times and I’m tired of it.

Lastly, one theme of Fringe that was echoed in the series’ content was that there never really are any answers. This is a J.J. Abrams creation, so viewers familiar with him can expect, like in Cloverfield and Lost, answers that lead to more questions.

All together, Fringe is a great show that brings some kind of promise, but carrying it past Season 1 will require some creative storytelling in order to hold a narrative.

Considering my personal schedule I’m just glad I can record shows and get back to them later on. It’s fall again, and every network and their mother has a must-see show. Here’s my fall viewing list, according to priority.

Watch within the week of showing: House, The Mentalist (review coming up soon), Fringe, Supernatural, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Stargate Atlantis.

Watch whenever there is enough precious free time to waste: The Closer, Saving Grace, Boston Legal, Burn Notice

Wait till summer, or mid-season reruns: Heroes (Yes, Heroes), Prison Break.

There was a time I used to watch way more TV than this, but the times have come a’changin’. Reviews to come soon.

In any other written word’s realm, the warning that a piece is long and meant to be so is unnecessary. Among us bloggers, it’s only polite to do so. Be warned: this post is long, and it isn’t just about Sharkwater either. Today is Earth Day (Wikipedia entry). While 2007 may have been the year we apparently all went green, 2008 is the year we’re starting to wake up to the sheer complexity of environmental awareness. It also a year where it isn’t really that all great to be human, when one thinks of the numerous dilemmas facing our species. The problem is in the Misanthropic Principle, which I wrote about a few years back. Very few real solutions short of the extermination of humanity are explored with any seriousness.

Sharkwater, released in 2007, is probably the most important environmental documentary released in the past, oh I don’t know. Since film, perhaps? The movie clearly demonstrates the causal relationship between human action and environmental effects, the situation on the ground, so to speak, or in the water, is not really open to “debate,” unlike in the case of, say, global warming. Fisheries are collapsing, shark populations are dwindling. Period. The film also places people at the center of the story: from the destruction they wreak to the methods used to address the issue.

The film’s narrative is presented as Rob Stewart’s development from shark photographer to activist. One of the most interesting events in the film is when Stewart forms an association with Paul Watson. His depiction of Watson is laced with rationalizations for Watson’s actions. Watson left Greenpeace because of the organization’s vow of non-violence. The film shows Watson dousing an illegally operating fishing boat with water cannons in an attempt to capsize them (I recall the use of the word “capsize,” too). Watson’s ship also has a weapon that can tear ship hulls open. Stewart’s participation in Watson’s activities is perhaps the most morally ambiguous aspect of the entire film. It raises important questions about attitudes towards nature, the role of humans, and what means are necessary in response. They attack a fishing vessel engaged in illegal activity, only to be detained for attempted murder upon reaching Costa Rica. They allege the influence of Taiwanese businessmen (they refer to them as mafia, though the term is loaded) who’ve made it their business to sell shark fins despite prohibitions by law.

Watson’s activism is no news: a search on Google for the label of ecoterrorist yields plenty of results. He’s also quite the misanthrope; his attitude toward humanity is frankly appalling (National Post: Enemy of Mankind). The question then, is, what would drive Stewart to associate with him? Is it desperation? Is it the need to “get something done” despite the costs? Stewart “turned to” Watson, bit after he came down with flesh-eating staph, Watson went on to other projects. Stewart’s return to Costa Rica was a journey embarked away from Watson.

Since Stewart didn’t claim otherwise, I will have to assume guilt by association. But it also raises the question: if people normally come first, at what point do solutions to human-caused problems come at a human expense? What makes the question easier to answer in the film’s case is that shark finning is not a means to a greater human end.

Sharkwater exposes the folly of chasing after “status,” and it does so very, very well. If there is one aspect that would make me look the other way from Watson’s eco-terrorism depicted in this film, it is the very fact that sharks meet a commercial need that is based solely on the human need to feel above each other. It is a disgusting, irrational rationalization. The Chinese businessman they feature, with his twisted philosophies on business and his horrid views on sharks, is yet one more embodiment of greed. He is a reflection of the long history of humanity’s practice of killing off animals to exhibit economic status. The irony is that in this politically correct world, if some Chinese would plead “culture” to this practice, are we brave enough to call bullshit on it?

The trade in rare animal products has a long history: elephants for their ivory, sea turtles for shells, and mink for their fur are just a few examples of animals that have faced great pressure due to this practice. Thankfully the more liberalized of Western nations have realized their folly and demand has gone down to almost zero. Unfortunately, it is not the case with some other nations, and the Chinese are just one of the many currently culpable societies.

An important point in the film is that shark conversation is almost nil because of the animal’s reputation. Never mind the idiotic notion that it is an “evil” animal; no such beast on this earth exists. Its dangerous nature has been overblown, and we have forgotten that when we venture upon shark-infested waters, no matter how pretty that view is, how nice the water may be, we enter a domain not our own. It is also easier for us to try and conserve the “cute” things, with all disregard to the importance of the sharks in the ocean ecosystem.

The film’s thesis, to its end, is that we have the ability to set things right. Watson’s lines on radical individuals causing great change comes in contrast to Stewart’s plea for all of us to be aware and his belief that we have the ability to set things right. It is hard to say whether this contrast was intended by Stewart, but it rings true.

Sharkwater may carry a stupid title, but its message deserves a listening ear and a watchful eye.

Torchwood, Season 2, episode eleven: I am very picky of the shows that I watch, and while this series usually entertains me, this time it sorta kinda pushed the envelope a little bit too damn far.

That’s fifty minutes of my life I wish I didn’t spend watching this episode. Not after that scream.

Chris Chibnall, go to hell. You can take whoever produced that episode with you.

I have to say that of the new shows that came out this past fall season, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles has got to be my favorite.

Sure, it features a John Connor who’s yet to grow his own fangs, but all together the show boasts of a solid storyline, above average acting (River Tam reappears under the name Cameron Phillips, conveniently played by the same actress), and enough action to make satisfy my taste, at the very least.

The incidental music—I love the term, mind you, opposed to “soundtrack”—is for me one of the most remarkable features of every episode. It really puts every situation in the proper mood, and it makes Mommy Connor’s profound babblings actually enjoyable to listen to.

One detail that I have jumped on that I haven’t googled about is the use of Chopin in some scenes. Derek Reese was taken into the  mysterious room with that music playing, and he came out completely out of it. I’m not sure, but that look was one of someone who would have been weeping, if they were emotionally capable of doing so. I think he saw a recorded memory of Cameron’s ballet practice in her bedroom, which was shown in The Demon Hand.

The show itself is rife with enough temporal paradoxes to make your head spin, and that in itself is part of the fun of the whole show, too. I look forward to Season 2, whose production has been confirmed.

I saw 300 today. Action, muscles, death. And not as much gore as one might think. Sure, the flying limbs and the thousands upon thousands of punctures through the movie were stark, but not as stark as, say, Kill Bill. It’s a war flick, and for a war flick, there was nothing gratuitous at all about the way it was presented.

Having said that, more than a few people have taken issue with the review from Slate, and with good reason. I’ve stopped political blogging for the most part because when that is all that surrounds us, that is all that colors the way we see things. Everything gets politicized and that just gets way boring, way too quickly. The review from the New York Times follows the same tack: “(It may be worth pointing out that unlike their mostly black and brown foes, the Spartans and their fellow Greeks are white.)” And while Matt takes on Slate’s review in his post, I will have to parrot David J’s short but direct opinion: “Sometimes a Movie About Guys Wearing Skirts is Just a Movie About Guys Wearing Skirts. Or Something to That Effect.” I think he means leather briefs and red capes, but we get the point.

It’s a highly political time and I just want to see the movie. The words sting because they work both ways. If you’re a more subtle lefty than that Dana guy from Slate you can just sit back and believe that the words are mean tongue-in-cheek. The very people you dislike tend to say the same things that Leonidas and his small army say. And if you’re the other type then you wouldn’t see any of that.

Considering the mental landscape today, if tomorrow I decided to remake a movie such as Zulu, would I, be equally guilty of baiting race? I mean, heck, savage black people from Africa were the villains here.

If there is even one criticism of the film on its merits that is worth reading, it would be this one from the NY Sun. But ultimately I don’t think it was supposed to be some “historical flick” anyway. It’s just a movie, and a good one at that.

…Would have to be ABC’s Brothers and Sisters.

I can sing praise after praise for the show, but the biggest commendation I have for the show is for its universal appeal. I doubt that there is no American family out there that doesn’t see one bit of their own reflected in the show.

Last night’s episode, Valentine’s Day Massacre basically broke the “happy streak” that the show has had since they fixed the financial issue at Ojai foods, and I must say that Kevin Walker has got the be the recipient of the shortest straw from the whole bunch from last night. Why is it that his character is almost always the one who seems to be tragically and fatally flawed?

The show altogether is great viewing, for anyone who would take my advice.

At the suggestion of Meryl, I checked out the first two episodes of NBC’s Heroes.

In the simplest words possible: Oh, my Lord. I’m taking a shine to Ali Larter’s character, Niki, with the Evil Twin Guardian Devil watching over her, and dear me, is that Milo Ventimiglia, teen trouble from Gilmore Girls playing the Amazing Flying Peter Petrelli? I barely recognized him in his role.

Is this going the be show that unseats Battlestar Galactica as the best science-fiction series? I would say that if it doesn’t beat BSG it will come close; having set the stage for at least half of a season—if not for all of the first—I could see immediately where the show can go. This show won’t be anywhere it is by the second episode without the immense failure of last year’s sci-fi attempt by NBC, Suface. It borrows more than a few pages from that show, from the air of mystery that pervaded the exposition, to the “powers that be” that are investigating these unknowns, even down to the comprehensive recaps from the same deep voice that told us all about the adventure of Miles, Laura and Rich.

Culturally speaking, is network-viewing America ready to deal with a show like this? While the ratings say “yes,” the strong human element that asks everyone the question, “what would you do,” would be the wave that carries the show to shore.

I didn’t know GayPatriot liked Crash; I liked it too. It’s a good enough movie to not lend itself to any sort of review or critique, but I will say this: If you know what kind of bullets come in a red box, what would be one of the most tense moments in the film simply gains some sort of absurd hilarity. Otherwise it’s high drama through and through.

My friend and I went to see the latest Harry Potter movie at the theatres yesterday. That I saw a film during its theatre run is a small wonder in itself; having seen the two movies prior to this one, I figured this one was well worth the money.

I was in no way disappointed.

I’ve never read the books; my commentary is from a film viewer’s perspective. I’ll try to avoid spoilers, though I’m sure anyone who’s read the books know what’s up. The ones who haven’t read them, however, and are out to watch the movie, at least need to be treated fairly.

My first comment on this film from its very beginning, is that it is grim beyond belief. I thought that it was fairly bleak in Azkaban, but this one has taken the cake so far. Not even during the high points of the Tri-Wizard Cup did any lustre shine through. Just points of light in darkness.

Secondly, I need to get in depth on the nature of the Defense Against The Dark Arts class. In the past three movies, maybe in consideration of the students’ young age, that class was marked with almost a tinge of frivolity. In the current movie, upon introduction of the Three Unforgiveable Curses, I thought to myself: This is how a class like that should be taught.

The last point I have about the movie is the contrast to what happened in Azkaban. In the previous film, Hermione and Harry go three hours into the past to do the right thing and save two innocent lives, this after having done nothing to save the condemned hippogrif. In this film, Harry did the “right thing” at the end of the tournament and in doing so got Cedric Diggory in trouble. Of course, “what ifs” can be debated until we’re blue in the face, but this is the fact of life that Harry had to take with him this time: sometimes, we’d do the right thing and it would still lead to people getting harmed anyway. But you got to do it for your sake anyway.

This movie might just make me pick up the next two books considering the time I have to wait for the next movies to be shot and released.

No spoilers about tonight’s episode just yet, but I have not seen Alan Shore try a case with as much seriousness as he did in the trial of Catherine Piper.

This show is just pure genius. It’s got the grit and gravity of The Practice, what would have been the humor of Ally McBeal had the show actually grown up, and none of the things that weighed the two shows down. Even the caricatural depiction of Denny Crane’s Republican alignment doesn’t come off as mean spirited.

I can’t wait to see how Shirley Schmidt Schmidt-cans Catherine next week. Knowing her she’d probably call her into the office and just say “you’re fired.” In fact she pulls it off better than the man who popularized the term just last year.

Hey, did I ever admit to having the new Battlestar series (Heh, “new,” yes? As if the “original” one were worth discussing…) as my favorite scifi show? It’s been that way for a while now, and I have a love-hate cycle going on about it too.

I’m the type who can really get into a show’s “headspace,” so when a show like BSG comes along that is really, really intense, I can love every minute of it while hating it for making me watch standing up and digging my nails into my palms in anticipation. Take, for example, Season 2’s summer finale: Pegasus.

I’ve had my diatribe on Admiral Cain in Dean Esmay’s comments section. It’s a soulless command, that’s what that witch has. The episode itself had me holding my breath most of the way through.

There are plenty of things to discuss about the show: for one, the HFCs (Human Form Cylons, as I call them) and their role in the heirarchy. Are they tools used by the toasters? Who is in control? What is their “society” like? Do the toasters have the same religion as the HFCs?

The sheer irony of the HFCs taking command of the toaster population is delicious on so many levels.

From now until January when Season 2 picks up where it left off, there’ll be plenty of time to talk about things, yes?

A few predictions on what may or may not happen as the show goes on.

• Pegasus ended with a standoff between the Galactica and Pegasus strike forces ready to fight. Either both forces refuse to follow orders, or there’s going to be a huge bloodbath. Or…
• Rosslin steps in. As president of the colonies she is duty bound to enforce her position as “commander in chief,” if such a role exists. There is evidence that the autonomy Adama’s command is one agreed upon by Rosslin and himself. There remains the possibility that the military remains accountable to the highest civilian authority.
• If—and this is just a wish because I just hope that she gets her comeuppance—Admirals and other high ranking officials are accountable to the civilian authorities, there is enough to hint that Cain’s rank as Admiral is not unimpeachable on account of her being the Queen Bitch of Colonial Forces. Though she may be the highest ranking officer in the fleet she remains accountable to the government and yes, I hope she gets what’s coming to her.
• At the same time, though, Adama’s command will be less lenient as a result of Cain’s example. There should be a stricter structure on the Galactica itself.

That’s it for Battlestar until January.

Y’know, she may have been annoying and the comic relief was quite excessive, but I’m going to miss Vala. Just for the record.

Here’s what I thought of SG1’s season 9 after the first three eps; I will admit that I really like the direction this season’s storyline has taken.

UPDATE: Lurking around the Gateworld fora I find this piece:

I REALIZED the true horror of the episode. Since Vala first ran ahead defiantly into the gate – a symbol that she was not part of the team and that she was going ahead as a sacrifice for something – I knew it was all building up to something. And Lord Lo and Behold, the Silenced Patriot, down to her final straw, dashes off to save the crippled SG team and consequently, the universe – who – even armed with an seemingly knowledge impotent Carter – were reduced to babbling amoung themselves. So, Vala has her moment in the sun of the galactic saviours at the last moment before enevitable doom – or so it seems. Now, it would have been an extremely tacky way to get rid of a character and I’m getting Pete vibes actually cause in a way, I feel sorry for her, the way she was bumped out of the crowd once Carter came back. Kind of reminds me how I used to feel when I was in school, left out becuase hey – I was just the spunky New Kid – The Cool Group’d been together for forever, they didn’t need me, and that’s how she was treated, like they didn’t need her – but in the end, they did need her even if they didn’t know it. So, there it is. The annoying turned into the valient. TPTB are sneaky devils They’ve managed to make me at least sympathize with a grand total of TWO previously annoying characters. Bravo guys. Bravo.

Emphasis added. I noticed that but wasn’t able to commit it to word early enough. Ever since Carter came back Vala was even more annoying towards Jackson even though she wasn’t even as annoying as she had previously been. Her whole value as a former Goa’uld with great knowledge and intel gathered from her shady past was never enough to make her worth anything to the team. In fact, she was never a team member, they just didn’t want Jackson fainting all over the place.

I know that the writers wrote her off because her whole role (post Prometheus Unbound) was to introduce the Orii into this galaxy through her own actions. Now that her part is done, she had little use. Bounding through the galaxy with the kind of intel and street smarts that she has would have made their tasks too easy. While Carter was paralyzed by the immensity of her knowledge, Vala was galavanized into action with what simple knowledge she had of solving the problem.

Believe me, I’ve had the same problems before.

I just hope the writers don’t return her as a prior.

As Scorpius in Farscape: The Peacekeeper Wars said: “John Chricton is alive.” And he happened to land in a different show.

Having watched all three parts of the Season 9’s opening episode, I can say with some certainty that it really is difficult for some actors to grow past roles that we have known them in. Cameron Mitchell’s characterization is chock full of Chricton moments that it’s hard not to expect a floating animatronic Hynerian popping up at any given moment. Caludia Black does a better job making Vala her own: the sultry, kooky, whorish former Goa’uld treasure hunter is a fresh addition to the show. She has her Aeryn Sun moments, no doubt, but they are not as pronounced as that of Browder’s.

In Farscape, Aeryn Sun was the one who was always serious; Chricton, on the other hand, tried to make light of his new life in the new galaxy full of new aggravations with every episode. He was funny, even in a nervous way. In SG-1, however, Browder’s humorous antics (his swordfight with the Ancient holographic suit of armor reminded me too much of the Farscape episode, Crackers Don’t Matter) do not belong to a Lt. Col., at least not in the frequency and degree which his character showed it. His sass doesn’t belong in the Stargate Program, it belongs in a cereal commercial.

This problem that plagues familiar faces in familiar roles isn’t exclusive to Browder either. SG-1’s new chief doctor is played by Lexa Doig—Michael Shanks’ wife and better known as The Andromeda Ascendant in Andromeda—and watching her is like watching the Andromeda go about her business, only in a medical function.

In all fairness, it will take time for them to feel snug in their new roles, and I like the show enough to be forgiving of these weaknesses. I just hope things get better over the next few episodes.

Just when we all think that things couldn’t get any worse, they do. Great episode tongiht, BTW.

It started with House, and TNT’s new show that features a less-than-perfect, fallen, but skilled and professional, heroine is what I would call a respectable rip of the “accidental, misanthropic hero” character archetype.

In The Closer, Kyra Sedgwick plays Brenda Johnson, a CIA-trained interrogator who moved from Atlanta to Los Angeles. She’s professional, she can be nasty, but most of all she’s there to shake things up and make sure she gets the results that the LAPD couldn’t get.

Despite the interesting case in the pilot, the issue that nagged me the most about this show was the whole concept of breaking through the glass ceiling. I kept asking myself if this was yet another “I’m a woman, I do my job well but nobody likes me! Waaaah!” show. And while Brenda Johnson isn’t a whiny girl, the show seems to take a lot of time telling us that yes, indeed, the hero is a woman, despite the big blonde waves, the sweet Southern drawl and the maternal approach with which she squeezed out the confession from her target.

Her sex aside, the show presents some pretty predictable intra-office politics. Nobody likes the new guy, especially when the new guy’s skills underline the ineptitude of the Old Guard. We all know that the new guy will bring himself respect once he brings in results, to the surprise of the Old Guard, but that doesn’t mean that all differences get settled at the end of the pilot.

The show is promising, but it seems to me that despite the numerous exchanges between the police staff (including a token female who has “fallen into the grind of things,” a misogynist who calls all women “bitch,” and a few other stereotypes) and Miss Johnson, all other charcters serve to underline her as the one and only person of any substance in the show. (As an interesting digression to that concept, if one remembers the late-90s show, Millennium, its credits featured Lance Henriksen, Megan Gallagher and Brittany Tiplady under “starring roles” despite the latter two’s characters holding mere bit parts in the development of the stories in which Henriksen’s charcter moved. It was an emphasis over the characterization of Frank Black and how his job wasn’t as important as his family, but from a TV production standpoint that kind of move—novel at the time—would have alienated unfamiliar audiences.)

Having said that, The Closer really is an interesting show and has some pretty intense drama—not to mention enough intellectual challenge without making it Byzantine—to hold an audience. Now that the pilot is over, maybe the show can move past underlining Brenda Johnson’s femininity, which Kyra Sedgwick can do all by her sweet lonesome without the help of such tacky writers’ devices such as her charcter having a chocogasm on her hotel room bed at the end of a tiring day.

Yup, I’m dissin’ on Star Wars tonight, and I have spoilers. Lots and lots of spoilers, fury be damned. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it possibly could be, but it comes close. Dean Esmay has a good point:

No, their biggest failure by far is that these new films present no new mysteries. There’s some political intrigue, but most of it seems obscure and uninteresting, not grand and compelling. Beyond that, almost none of the story in this second set of films creates any mysteries for us to wonder about or debate.

Problem Number One: we came expecting the “how” of the transformation, and what we saw was a series of unfortunate slip-ups. It’s like watching a slapstick comedian slip on a greased floor, wildy gesticulating until he falls flat on his rump. It was funny in the 30s; it’s downright sad today. Let’s look at the denoument to the opening sequence, when, having cornered Count Dooku and slashed off his hands, Palpatine urges Ani to kill him. So spoof I:

Pal.: Kill him.

Ani.: Huh? He’s harmless. He won’t be tickling little boys anymore.

Pal.: First he joins NAMBLA, next think you know he’d be taking the younglings to bed.

Ani.: You’re gross, Grand Chancellor.

[Dooku gives Palpatine a puppy-dog look.]

Pal.: He’s winking at you.

[Anakin decapitates Dooku.]

Ani.: Ooops. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s not the Jedi Way(TM).

Pal.: Oh well. Strrrrrrike ONE! Now, will you get these cuffs off me? I told Dooku to get me fuzzy cuffs, not these cold things.

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