This pic is eerily similar to my high school yearbook picture. Only mine has more straps and less smiling.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been stranded in an alternate universe, like myself or Agent Olivia Dunham on Fringe, but it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. You’d like to walk around and check out the cool billboards, steampunk-y zeppelins and catch a matinee of Dogs, the musical. But no, the government just wants to brainwash you into thinking you’re not you, but the alternate universe version of you, who just happens to be pretending to be you over in your universe. Trust me, it’s much, much more complicated than it sounds, but that’s not a bad thing. Anna Torv is such an amazing and compelling actress, I could watch her run and shoot things and suppress her emotions all day. Last season’s finale was rather lackluster, I admit, mainly because we saw this switcheroo coming a mile away. But now that it’s here and we’re dealing with it, the dramatic possibilities seem endless. Bring it on.
Sam likes to watch.
I looooove when shows come back after a big apocalyptic finale and try to pick up the pieces and move on. It’s so much more interesting than the actual apocalypse. In the sixth season opener of Supernatural, we find Dean Winchester a year after losing his beloved brother Sam to an eternity of cage dancing in hell. We see a typical day in Dean’s life: nice, normal, painfully heterosexual. But is he happy? We don’t know. Everyone keeps telling him this is what they wanted for him. But is it what he wanted for himself? Sam’s return from hell, the dead and who knows what else (*cough* Satan’s butt boy *cough*) is handled with such nonchalance, it’s truly disarming. They could have used two or three episodes to build up to his return. Instead, he just shows up. “Hey. I’m alive and stuff. Let’s roll.” Along for the ride is Grandpa Campbell, played by Mitch Pileggi. It’s nice to see Mitch again. Back during his X-Files days, my friends and I used to play a little game we liked to call “Spot FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner’s Enormous Bulge.” The producers of Supernatural must be concerned about Grandpa upstaging his grandsons, since they’ve put him in a pair of baggy grandpa jeans. But that’s not what this episode is about. What it is about has left some viewers scratching their heads. Personally, I think the premiere sets things up rather nicely, positioning Dean clearly on the outside of the hunting shenanigans and pitting whatever humanity he’s gained against whatever humanity Sam’s lost. Still, I would have liked to see a bigger physical change in Sam. I love his big, floppy hair as much as the next gay, but I think he should have come back from hell with a buzz cut, a scar or two and maybe a mesh hoodie tank from Undergear.
Zombie Jonathan Kent eats Clark’s brain. “Nom-nom-nom.”
One of the problems I have with the superhero genre is how arbitrary the secret identity is. Or how arbitrary the list of people who know about the secret identity is. It usually all comes down to: “Don’t tell the love interest.” So you end up with f**king Orko knowing He-Man’s secret, but not Teela, who would find the information infinitely more useful. Which brings me to Lois and the Smallville premiere. Is it possible? Could it be? Are they changing the whole superhero paradigm by having Lois know the truth, but pretend to not know the truth in order to protect herself and Clark? That’s bloody brilliant. Hopefully, she won’t get hit on the head or zapped with a mind-erasing ray. Or worse, get the “roofie” kiss from Clark. All of this is very fascinating, but the most important event of the final season’s premiere is naked, sweaty Oliver tied to a chair.
Thank you, sir, may I have another?
This completely interrupted the flow of the episode. So much so that I had to pause the show and give some serious thought to what I’d do with naked, sweaty Oliver tied to a chair. Would I beat him and growl bad dialogue at him, like the villain on the show? Or would I bring him champagne and read Dorothy Parker poetry to him, while we listen to Laura Branigan‘s greatest hits? Yes, that sounds about right. Watching this episode and contemplating the role and purpose of Superman in modern-day America, I am still inspired. I might have to write an essay about this. Finally, if you recall some of my coverage of Smallville in the past, you know I can’t help making fun of their total lack of budget. Namely, they have, like, three interior sets and only about five people seem to live in Metropolis. So, once again, in this episode, Clark must make it to Metropolis in time to stop the Daily Planet globe from falling and crushing…oh, I’d say about two people and a car. Then Clark crushes the car jumping to the top of the Daily Planet building. So…yeah…there’s that. I’m thinking we really need to start a campaign to volunteer to be extras on Smallville. They could really, really use some. Who’s with me?
Any thoughts on this week’s returning shows? Let us know what’s on your mind here in the comments section, or over yonder in the TV Forum.
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This pic is eerily similar to my high school yearbook picture. Only mine has more straps and less smiling.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been stranded in an alternate universe, like myself or Agent Olivia Dunham on Fringe, but it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. You’d like to walk around and check out the cool billboards, steampunk-y zeppelins and catch a matinee of Dogs, the musical. But no, the government just wants to brainwash you into thinking you’re not you, but the alternate universe version of you, who just happens to be pretending to be you over in your universe. Trust me, it’s much, much more complicated than it sounds, but that’s not a bad thing. Anna Torv is such an amazing and compelling actress, I could watch her run and shoot things and suppress her emotions all day. Last season’s finale was rather lackluster, I admit, mainly because we saw this switcheroo coming a mile away. But now that it’s here and we’re dealing with it, the dramatic possibilities seem endless. Bring it on.
Sam likes to watch.
I looooove when shows come back after a big apocalyptic finale and try to pick up the pieces and move on. It’s so much more interesting than the actual apocalypse. In the sixth season opener of Supernatural, we find Dean Winchester a year after losing his beloved brother Sam to an eternity of cage dancing in hell. We see a typical day in Dean’s life: nice, normal, painfully heterosexual. But is he happy? We don’t know. Everyone keeps telling him this is what they wanted for him. But is it what he wanted for himself? Sam’s return from hell, the dead and who knows what else (*cough* Satan’s butt boy *cough*) is handled with such nonchalance, it’s truly disarming. They could have used two or three episodes to build up to his return. Instead, he just shows up. “Hey. I’m alive and stuff. Let’s roll.” Along for the ride is Grandpa Campbell, played by Mitch Pileggi. It’s nice to see Mitch again. Back during his X-Files days, my friends and I used to play a little game we liked to call “Spot FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner’s Enormous Bulge.” The producers of Supernatural must be concerned about Grandpa upstaging his grandsons, since they’ve put him in a pair of baggy grandpa jeans. But that’s not what this episode is about. What it is about has left some viewers scratching their heads. Personally, I think the premiere sets things up rather nicely, positioning Dean clearly on the outside of the hunting shenanigans and pitting whatever humanity he’s gained against whatever humanity Sam’s lost. Still, I would have liked to see a bigger physical change in Sam. I love his big, floppy hair as much as the next gay, but I think he should have come back from hell with a buzz cut, a scar or two and maybe a mesh hoodie tank from Undergear.
Zombie Jonathan Kent eats Clark’s brain. “Nom-nom-nom.”
One of the problems I have with the superhero genre is how arbitrary the secret identity is. Or how arbitrary the list of people who know about the secret identity is. It usually all comes down to: “Don’t tell the love interest.” So you end up with f**king Orko knowing He-Man’s secret, but not Teela, who would find the information infinitely more useful. Which brings me to Lois and the Smallville premiere. Is it possible? Could it be? Are they changing the whole superhero paradigm by having Lois know the truth, but pretend to not know the truth in order to protect herself and Clark? That’s bloody brilliant. Hopefully, she won’t get hit on the head or zapped with a mind-erasing ray. Or worse, get the “roofie” kiss from Clark. All of this is very fascinating, but the most important event of the final season’s premiere is naked, sweaty Oliver tied to a chair.
Thank you, sir, may I have another?
This completely interrupted the flow of the episode. So much so that I had to pause the show and give some serious thought to what I’d do with naked, sweaty Oliver tied to a chair. Would I beat him and growl bad dialogue at him, like the villain on the show? Or would I bring him champagne and read Dorothy Parker poetry to him, while we listen to Laura Branigan‘s greatest hits? Yes, that sounds about right. Watching this episode and contemplating the role and purpose of Superman in modern-day America, I am still inspired. I might have to write an essay about this. Finally, if you recall some of my coverage of Smallville in the past, you know I can’t help making fun of their total lack of budget. Namely, they have, like, three interior sets and only about five people seem to live in Metropolis. So, once again, in this episode, Clark must make it to Metropolis in time to stop the Daily Planet globe from falling and crushing…oh, I’d say about two people and a car. Then Clark crushes the car jumping to the top of the Daily Planet building. So…yeah…there’s that. I’m thinking we really need to start a campaign to volunteer to be extras on Smallville. They could really, really use some. Who’s with me?
Any thoughts on this week’s returning shows? Let us know what’s on your mind here in the comments section, or over yonder in the TV Forum.
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