Friday, January 23, 2009

30 Rock, "Retreat To Move Forward": Camp value

Spoilers for last night's "30 Rock" coming up just as soon as I badmouth synergy...

"Make Mommy proud of you because you're the best!" -Jack

"Retreat To Move Forward" petered out near the end (even with the use of C&C Music Factory, I expected Liz's self-sacrificing humiliation to be something much grander), and the Tracy/Kenneth plot didn't work at all until it intersected with the Jenna/Frank story, but overall, this was one of the best, funniest episodes of what's been a distressingly uneven season of "30 Rock."

With all the guest stars gone for now, this one made good use of virtually the entire cast(*), including our first trip into the writers' room in a while. Jack and Liz's story, with or without the camp metaphor, was a funny commentary on how close they've become since the pilot, and on how the more traditional, Six Sigma-revering GE execs might react to that. Plus, it had Jack name-checking Judy Blume, and Liz using a robot voice to discuss her "robot penis," so even if the entire episode had been a wasteland, I probably would have loved it.

(*) The one exception, as usual: Pete, who didn't appear at all that I can remember. What has Scott Adsit done to tick off the writing staff? Is he off doing a movie? I need my weekly taste of Hornberger!

Meanwhile, you knew that Jenna and Frank were going to hook up sooner or later, and that there would be an unexpected twist to it. I wasn't that surprised by Frank turning out to be more embarrassed by the whole thing than Jenna, but I was by all the fringe-y office women (Jenna's hairdresser, the elderly Russian cleaning lady) coming out of the woodwork as past Frank conquests. Between that and his and Twofer's obvious pleasure at the Wikipedia prank was a nice use of the outer rims of the show's cast.

I have some interviews to do in a few minutes, so no time to run through the usual list of other things I found funny (Dr. Spaceman not knowing how to say "diabetes," Frank telling Jenna "Your hands are weird," to name two), so go to town.

What did everybody else think?
Click here to read the full post

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Burn Notice, "Do No Harm": Bikini girls with machine guns

Spoilers for the return of "Burn Notice" coming up just as soon as I cut my thumb...

"I want my brother out of jail! I want answers! I want my life back!" -Michael

As I said in today's column, "Do No Harm" shows us a different side of Michael -- and of "Burn Notice" -- than we've really seen before. For once, he doesn't have an answer for everything. He's battered, he's huffing around with those busted ribs and he's sick and tired of having to dance to Carla's tune, let alone having to figure out who else might have tried to blow him up.

And yet, even as Michael's tired and angry and at a loss, he still manages to be Michael Westen -- and "Burn Notice" still manages to be "Burn Notice." There are shows where I'd be frustrated to see a big arc-driven cliffhanger followed up by an episode where the main character gets caught up in a business-as-usual procedural case, but Matt Nix and company are cooking with gas right now, and they made it work. Hell, I didn't even groan too much at the idea of Michael helping out the poor sick kid with the rare heart condition, because those scenes deliberately didn't tug at our heartstrings, or even at Michael's. He'd be helping the suicidal dad no matter what the reason, because he happened to be there, and because that's sort of what he does now.

Fi, on the other hand? She was definitely touched by her time with the boy, but that in turn was almost played for laughs, as we got to watch her teach him how to properly array his toy soldiers for a sniper attack, and as she lost her temper and took a swing at the evil con woman, leading to that splendid bikini brawl.

Plus, any extended sequence of Michael and Sam interrogating guys -- and finding creative, non Jack Bauer-approved, methods of getting answers -- is always a delight.

It's good to have it back.

What did everybody else think?
Click here to read the full post

The Office, "Prince Family Paper": Hot... or not?

Brief thoughts on tonight's "The Office" coming up just as soon as I find out how many members of the Communist Party are working at the local IHOP...

Well, that's two episodes in a row where the Michael plot wasn't nearly as much fun as what was happening back at the office. The difference is that last week Michael got a brief B-story, while here he got the main plot.

Michael and Dwight planning hijinks on their own, without Jim around to heckle or offer up some common sense, tends to make me squirm. Michael's conflicted feelings about betraying the kindly Prince family came up too late in the episode, and was resolved too abruptly, to really work. And the foot chase through the office building wasn't nearly as well-constructed as the similar bit between Michael and Meredith in the rehab facility parking lot back in the Christmas episode. Other than a couple of throwaway bits, like Michael equating Ryan with Jan on the broken heart scale, it was a misfire.

The rest of the office getting together to debate the hotness of Hilary Swank, on the other hand? Genius with a capital G. We all get sucked into these silly and superficial arguments(*), and Swank for whatever reason comes up an awful lot in them. (I remember an early Bill Simmons mailbag discussing the issue, though I can't find the link right now.) As noted at the end, it was less about Swank -- and note that the writers went out of their way to have even the haters admit that she was pretty, and that Kevin would have sex with her, so as to avoid too much offense -- than about the way people in 21st century America tend to get entrenched on one side of a debate and refuse to even acknowledge the other position's merits. I hope there are deleted scenes for Creed and Meredith and all the others who didn't get to make their own oral arguments, because the ones we did get to see (particularly Stanley's plea for optimism and Oscar's symmetrical face argument) were so hysterical.

(*) Admittedly, I probably get sucked into more than most due to the nature of my job; many is the press tour lunch that's descended into this territory, and proud we all are of ourselves by the end.

What did everybody else think?
Click here to read the full post

Getting caught up with Damages

I did an open thread for the "Damages" season two premiere, and in all the hubbub of press tour, never got around to doing that (or a longer review) for episode two. With last night's episode, "I Knew Your Pig," we're caught up on the episodes I saw in advance, and which informed the complaints I made in my column a few weeks back. I don't really have the time or energy to add to that right now, but I suspect I'll give the season another episode or two before deciding for sure that the series simply isn't for me.

In the meantime, how's it working out for the rest of you? Click here to read the full post

Sepinwall on TV: 'Burn Notice' brings summer heat to a winter's night

In today's column, I check in on "Burn Notice" as the second season resumes tonight, a little heavier for the winter months but still inescapably "Burn Notice"-y. I should have an episode review ready to go by 11. Click here to read the full post

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Lost, "Because You Left" & "The Lie": Uh-oh, Zoot skipped a groove again!

Spoilers for the "Lost" season five premiere coming up just as soon as I heat up a Hot Pocket...

"Everyone I care about just blew up on your damn boat. I know what I can't change!" -Sawyer

"Look, everything's going to make sense. I promise." -Hurley
"It better!" -Hurley's mom


If, as with "The Wire," the opening scene of each season of "Lost" tells you all you need to know about what's to come, then the series' penultimate season is going to be about time travel, and about what happens when a beloved old record starts skipping a few grooves.

When Daniel Faraday invokes that old-fashioned needle-skip phenomenon, he explains what's happening on the island in layman's terms, as well as providing greater symbolic weight to the way three season (including this one) opened with characters listening to their favorite vinyl selections. In this case, what Dr. Chang (aka Marvin Candle / aka Mark Wickmund / aka Edgar Halliwax) is playing Willie Nelson's "Shotgun Willie," but these episodes as a whole play a little like "Lost's Greatest Hits."

Not only does the time-travel phenomenon lead to return appearances by Ethan, Yemi's plane (and its cargo of dope-filled Virgin Mary figurines) and a younger version of Desmond still waiting for his replacement to arrive ("Are you him?"), and not only does the second episode feature a ghostly (or hallucinatory) appearance by Ana-Lucia and the return of Desmond's time-travel guru Ms. Hawking, but the two episodes are filled with all of the things that can make "Lost" so addictive -- and, depending on your tastes, maddening.

These episodes offered up cool action, like Sayid having a brawl involving pots, pans and a rogue dishwasher, as well as the harrowing sequence of Sawyer, Juliet and the remaining Lostaways trying to survive a flaming arrow attack. They offered strong character moments, like Sawyer's confession of just how much he's hurting, or Hurley finally coming clean to someone about the island. (Much more on both of those in a bit.) It offered more clues -- and, in some cases, plain answers -- about what's going on on this bizarre island, as well as tantalizing new questions like... soldiers? With flaming arrows? And British accents?

But back to that opening sequence, set in the glory days of the Dharma Initiative, before The Others took over, before Chang/Candle/Wickmund/Halliwax lost his arm, before all that unpleasantness -- what is Faraday doing there, and how did he get there? Is this another instance of the current time-skipping problem, and he just happened to wind up temporarily stuck in the island's Dharma era, or does this tie back into his own time travel experiments and the fact that Desmond is supposed to be his Constant?

Whatever he's doing there, it's clear that twitchy Dan is going to be a crucial part of this season, and that Desmond (who really only appears for a few minutes in both these episodes combined) could be almost as important, as the show finally makes explicit what's been speculated on for years: among the unique properties of the island is an ability to bend the laws of physics to send people, things, and even the island back and forth through time. If that's really happening, then not only will the Lostaways need a quantum physicist and an unstuck-in-time Scotsman to save them, but we'll need Dan just to put things in layman's terms, which he does quite nicely with the record analogy.

Now, are the Lostaways moving through time (and possibly space) or is the island? That may be an issue of semantics, or it may be the key to all of this. To get my full comic book geek on, I think of Guardian from Alpha Flight, who had the ability to make himself immune to the Earth's rotation. The planet would keep moving, and Guardian would stay in the same place, but to the observer (who was, in fact, moving right along with Earth), it looked like he had flown away at an astonishing speed. We know that it looked, from the Oceanic Six's perspective, like the island blinked out of existence, and maybe it did. Maybe it goes from place to place, time period to time period, and that's how Yemi's small plane made it all the way from Africa to the South Pacific (and seems remarkably well-preserved years later), how the Black Rock wound up at the center of the island (and how the ship's first mate's journal wound up in Madagascar), how the polar bears wound up in Tunisia, etc. Maybe, in fact, none of these things would have wound up on (or off) the island if Ben hadn't moved the frozen donkey wheel and made the record start skipping. Maybe Locke didn't travel back in time to witness the moment when Yemi's plane crashed, but rather was there at the moment (in relative island time) when it originally happened.

And now as I re-read that paragraph, I wonder if I'm just writing in circles, which is always the danger of time travel stories: even when they make sense to the quantum physicists like Faraday, or the comic book nerds like me, they can still make your head hurt. And to someone without a PhD or a bookshelf full of sci-fi paperbacks, it can be a complete turn-off.

But what made all the time-bending of "The Constant" work so brilliantly, and what makes these two episodes work almost as well (they're trying to move forward a lot more plot than "The Constant" had to deal with, so the focus is by nature not as tight) is that they never lose sight of the human element. Yes, insane things are happening, some of which make sense if you stop to explain them, many of which don't make any sense at all, but there are recognizable characters at the center of them, reacting in a way that seems right to them, and that's moving in some way.

Sawyer's stuck on the island as it skips from era to era (or as he skips from era to era, or however you want to parse it), but he's also trying to process what he thinks is the death of Kate and Hurley and his other friends -- and maybe, though it's never said outright, the guilt that if he hadn't jumped out of the helicopter ("for her"), it might have gone in the ocean (where they could have swam away) instead of landing on the soon-to-explode freighter. Sawyer was pretty marginalized last season, but as Sawyer tries to deal with all the time jumps and his own grief, Josh Holloway does an outstanding job of reminding us why he was such a vital character from the start, and of making Sawyer's anguish clear well before he comes right out and says it to Dan.

Hurley, meanwhile, is on the run from the cops, and Ben, and whomever's been following him and Sayid, and maybe from ghosts (or else just more examples of his own mental problems). As the alliances in the real world ebb and flow and threaten to become as cryptic as the time mess on the island -- What did Ben do to make Sayid break away from him? Does Sun really only blame Ben for Jin's death, or is she plotting some righteous vengeance on Kate and Jack as well? -- Hurley, as he so often, blessedly does, brings it all back down to earth.

Despite his mental problems, Hurley has always been one of the most rational characters "Lost" has. (Ditto Sawyer, which makes them appropriate centerpieces for these first two episodes.) Hurley's the only one who sees from the start that the Oceanic Six lie is going to be more trouble than it's worth, and as we saw when he charged through a mine field to ask Rousseau about the numbers, it matters an awful lot when he can find people who believe him when he speaks the truth. So the scene where he finally comes clean to his mom and gives her a summary about what happened on the island -- sounding totally insane even to those of us who watched all this stuff go down -- and she believes him because he's her son and he wouldn't lie to her... well, that provided more than enough emotional ballast to the rest of it. It can never be said enough how wonderful Jorge Garcia is at showing Hurley's vulnerability, and how valuable Hurley's perspective on things is to keeping this whole bizarre enterprise from flying off the rails.

With these episodes -- really, going back to last year's three-hour finale -- the show has changed up its narrative format once again. Rather than the simple structure of intercutting events on the island with one character's flashback, or flashforward, we now have two parallel narratives -- one on the island at the end of 2004 (or did the new year begin before the freighter blew up?), the other in the real world in 2007 -- that are both constantly moving forward. This late in the series, this kind of global plotting is necessary, as it allows all of the stories to advance each week, rather than waiting for, say, Kate's spotlight episode to fill us in on what's happening with her and Aaron and these shady lawyers (working for Claire's mom, maybe?) who want a blood test to prove maternity. Yet despite having much more forward momentum than all but a handful of episodes from previous seasons, both "Because You Left" and "The Lie" still manage to find an emotional anchor (first Sawyer, then Hurley) so that they can feel like original-recipe "Lost" while dabbling in time travel, espionage, mergers and acquisitions, and all these other new elements.

Needless to say, I am very, very happy with where we're at with the new season. And next week's episode, which I got to see on a big screen back at press tour, may actually be the best of the three so far.

Some other thoughts and questions to ponder:

• In case you missed it yesterday, I did a long interview with Damon Lindelof when I was in California last week. In it, we discuss not only the new time travel theme, but key elements from season four and from the series as a whole. If you don't have time for the whole thing, I'd suggest scrolling down to the parts about "Stranger in a Strange Land" inadvertently saving the series, and about how the master plan relates to Michael Emerson being promoted from day player to central character.

• Another link you might have missed: Isaac Spaceman's recap of the previous four seasons. It's a bit longer than Hurley's, and doesn't have the pathos, but it's wicked, wicked funny.

• Interesting that, in the end, Hurley takes Sayid's advice (no matter what, do the opposite of whatever Ben suggests) over Ana-Lucia's (no matter what, don't let the cops catch you). Given what we know about Ben, Sayid's was probably the wiser piece of advice, and it's rare to see Ben as thoroughly foiled as he is in that moment -- which only made my Hurley love grow more.

• What exactly is going on with the pendulum in Ms. Hawking's office? And why does she have a computer that looks to be the same vintage as the one from the hatch?

• In addition to the Willie Nelson song, the most notable tune playing over these two episodes was Cheap Trick's "Dream Police," which was the Muzak playing as Hurley bought a t-shirt at the gas station.

• One more thing to ponder about what's moving and why on the island: The Others -- at least, the native Others (as opposed to an immigrant like Juliet) -- don't seem to be traveling when the Lostaways do. One minute, Locke's in the jungle with his flock, and the next he's in the pouring rain by himself.

• And speaking of The Others, one of the benefits of the deal to end the series after next season was it gave Cuse and Lindelof the ability to sign people like Nestor Carbonell to firmer deals. We don't need to worry anymore about Richard disappearing again from the narrative because Carbonell (who apparently is not wearing eyeliner) got cast in another series.

• The compass Richard gives to Locke -- to give back to him at their next meeting in Locke's future and Richard's past -- would seem to answer the question of which item the young Locke was supposed to recognize that he already owned during the '60s flashbacks from "Cabin Fever," right?

• While Dan has jumped to the center of the narrative, the other surviving freighter folk are still around to varying degrees. I'm not sure if we'll be seeing Frank again past the flashback to the origin of the Oceanic Six lie (which was hatched while he was still hanging with them and Desmond and Penny), but Miles gets to prove that Locke isn't the only guy on the island who can catch boar (though, admittedly, John had the tougher task of doing it with living ones, where Miles just uses his psychic powers to find already dead ones), and Charlotte appears to be more profoundly affected by the time travel than the rest of the gang, judging by her nosebleeds, memory loss and Dan's obvious concern for her.

• Carlton Cuse has brought in a bunch of supporting players from his "Nash Bridges" over the years, whether it's Cheech as Hurley's dad, Daniel Roebuck as the amazing exploding Arzt, and now Mary Mara as Jill, Ben's contact at the Others-run butcher shop. (Those Others, always diversifying: they run a butcher shop, and a biotech firm, and a time-traveling island, and...)

• Like father, like son: Cheech also enjoys the occasional episode of "Expose."

• Between Keamy's assault force, the explosion of the freighter and now the fire arrow attack, Cuse and Lindelof have now gotten rid of most of the anonymous remaining passengers (or, as the producers call them, The Socks) of Oceanic 815. As Lindelof put it, half tongue-in-cheek, at a press conference last week:
The last character that anyone ever asked us about was Frogurt, and you saw how we dealt with his reintroduction. The show is now moving into a phase where the presence of The Socks was no longer directly necessary. So we killed them with arrows. And that’s just what you do.
• Getting back to the rules about time travel, how do you feel about Dan's assertion that Desmond is "special," and therefore immune to all the rules? Interesting idea that makes one of the show's most popular characters even more important, or a magical get-out-of-jail-free card for whenever the writers paint themselves into a corner over these last two seasons?

What did everybody else think?
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Lie to Me, "Pilot" Open thread

I gave my own thoughts on "Lie to Me" in this morning's column, and though I'll probably give it a few more shots just based on Tim Roth, the pilot, though relatively well-executed, doesn't exactly have me salivating for additional episodes. But what did everybody else think? Click here to read the full post

Previously, on 'Lost'...

Today's must-read: Isaac Spaceman over at Throwing Things offers up a hilarious recap of everything that's happened on the previous four seasons of "Lost." If you prefer your recaps both shorter and infinitely less entertaining, after the jump is the sidebar (previously print-only) to yesterday's stories that recaps where (and when) everybody of note is at the start of the new season:
The new season of "Lost" opens up with two parallel narratives: what happened on the island right after Ben moved it at the end of 2004, and what's happening in the real world in 2007. Here's where/when the major characters are as the season begins:

Locke: In 2007, dead in a coffin in an LA funeral home; in 2004, on the island as leader of The Others

Jack & Ben: In 2007, standing over Locke's coffin, plotting a return to the island

Kate: In 2007, raising Aaron by herself; no interest in going back

Hurley & Sayid: In 2007, on the run from the mental hospital and a group of men who are following Hurley

Sun: In 2007, confronting Charles Widmore in London

Desmond & Penny: In 2007, in hiding together

Sawyer & Juliet: In 2004, on the island's beach, having just watched the freighter blow up

Daniel Faraday: In 2004, on their way back from the exploded freighter

Charlotte & Miles: In 2004, on the island, waiting for Daniel to come back

Jin: Apparently blown up on the freighter (Daniel Dae Kim is still a regular castmember and Cuse and Lindelof say he'll keep appearing, but it may be entirely in flashback/time-travel form)

Claire: Hanging in Jacob's cabin with Jack's father, and likely not appearing until next season, per Cuse and Lindelof
Click here to read the full post

Sepinwall on TV: 'Lie to Me' review

In today's column, I review Fox's "Lie to Me," which I thought was relatively well-executed, but which I'd be fine with never seeing again.

I'll have a separate open thread-type post set to go tonight at 10 for those who want to discuss the episode after it airs. Click here to read the full post

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Fringe, "Bound": Cool girl-on-girl action

Spoilers for tonight's "Fringe" coming up just as soon as I ask for a drink of water...

"Bound" is the first episode of "Fringe" to air after "American Idol," and therefore has to operate on the assumption that it'll be the first episode of the series for a whole lot of people. So it has to re-introduce the premise and the characters to the newbies at the same time it's telling a story that won't bore the folks who've been watching since September.

For the most part, it accomplishes those tasks, and more elegantly than the series' second episode (which was the first to air after "House") did. We got reminders of certain character quirks, like Walters' fondness for playing with LSD, and we got exposition about who everybody is, but it wasn't as clumsy this time around. I think the idea of bringing in a guy whom Olivia tried to put away for sexual assault as Homeland Security's overseer of the team is pretty stupid and just there to create false tension, but at least we had an outsider doing most of the exposition this time.

What really struck me about "Bound," though, was the way it chose to introduce Olivia to this potentially much bigger audience: as a big-league ass-kicker.

The Olivia of the earlier episodes was definitely the weakest link of "Fringe": she was too experienced to work as the point-of-view character, too willing to believe in Walter's research to work as a 21st century Scully, and too blandly-played by Anna Torv(*) to be interesting in any other role.

(*) I continue to believe this is another case, ala "Bionic Woman," of the strain of doing the American accent sucking all the personality out of the actress. At press tour, we saw clips of Torv in a BBC series called "Mistresses," and she seemed far, far livelier than she's ever been on "Fringe." Now, that wasn't her native accent, either, but it's much closer than ours is.

Torv isn't suddenly a bundle of charisma in "Bound," but stuck in the middle of a couple of nifty fight sequences -- escaping her spinal-tapping kidnappers, then throwing down with Trini Alvarado -- she didn't exactly need to be. Even when I took issue with Jennifer Garner as Sydney Bristow (as opposed to Garner-as-Sydney-as-an-undercover-alias), she was always so convincing at the action that any other objections got left by the wayside. I'm not saying Torv is at or remotely near that level yet, but if JJ Abrams and company have decided that she's the muscle, John Noble is the brains and Pacey is there to crack wise, we might have a workable combination.

As for the ongoing hints of the conspiracy? Meh. I'll care about Mitch's rant about the two sides, and whether he was trying to kill Olivia or save her, when they actually give us a scrap of tangible information about any of it.

But overall, not a bad episode, with the super-sized cold virus an appropriately gross touch.

What did everybody else think?
Click here to read the full post

24: See you in the next life, Jack!

Very brief spoilers about last night's "24" -- including my explanation for why this'll be the last time I write about the show for anytime soon -- coming right up...

Okay, I'm good.

I went into this episode feeling like it was a chore -- that, as a professional TV watcher, a blogger of various interesting shows, etc., I needed to stay current with "24." And I was dreading it. As I suggested back in my column before the season began, I'm tired of all of it: the torture, the stupid behavior necessary to make the plot work (was there any way the Vice-President First Gentleman wasn't going to be betrayed by his Secret Service man?), the cartoonish villains (the guy from the Attorney General's office was portrayed to be nearly as loathsome in his defense of the Constitution as the ACLU-type guy was a few seasons back, or the UN observer from "24: Redemption"), etc.

I don't care how Jack's going to get out of this latest mess, who's loyal at the FBI and who isn't, whom President Taylor can really trust, any of it. I'm out.

I know plenty of you are still perfectly happy with the show, and good for you for finding something you enjoy. But it's better for all of us if I just cut the cord here.

For the last time (for now, anyway) on "24," what did everybody else think?
Click here to read the full post

Sepinwall on TV: 'Lost' goes time traveling for season five

In today's column, I preview the new season of "Lost," which premieres tomorrow night:
How do you feel about time travel, "Lost" fans?

Sure, the dazzling island adventure has dabbled in four dimensions in the past, with the flashes and journeys of consciousness of Desmond (Henry Ian Cusick). But as the series' fifth (and penultimate) season begins, it's full-on Marty McFly time, with particle physicist Daniel Faraday (Jeremy Davies) admitting that he might have a hard time explaining some events on the island even to another particle physicist.

And that may finally mean a day of reckoning between those viewers who embrace the show's science-fiction trappings, and those who prefer not to think about them.
To read the full thing, click here.

You'll note that the column contains some thoughts from "Lost" co-creator and my sometime arch-nemesis Damon Lindelof (pictured, above right, at press tour with Carlton Cuse). We spoke at length last week about last season, this season, and how the worst episode in "Lost" history may also have been the most important episode in "Lost" history (from a production standpoint, anyway), which means its full transcript time, after the jump...

What material did you have to leave out because of the strike that you won't be able to get back to?

I don't think that there's anything that just got basically junked. There's stuff that got truncated, so you're getting the Cliff's Notes version of the story. Whereas there might have been an entire episode that was Charlotte's flashbacks if there hadn't been a strike, now you get the story but not the flashbacks. I think the complete jettisoning of a story plan would take the whole Jenga tower down. We have to do all that stuff to get to where we're going. Nothing was so expendable that you could just say we couldn't get to do this. The show would suffer for it. But the Michael story, we wanted to do something that was more redemptive for him than staying with the bomb and allowing Jin to get to the deck as he was spraying liquid nitrogen onto it. But it ended up having to be that, as opposed to something that was probably more heroic, more emotional, by virtue of the fact that we had to collapse our time frame. Originally, we were going to do an hour less than we wound up doing, and we had to beg for that. We were still rolling film, like, 11 days before it was on the air. It was all we could do to cram everything in there, and you go, "What are the major story points you can play?" and you need to connect the dots. The primary story focus was on the Oceanic Six, and everyone else had to defer. We had to explain how Jin died, and so that gave us less time for Michael's redemptive arc, and we regret that.

One of the things you and Carlton talk about a lot, and I never quite understood until we got to "There's No Place Like Home," is that you're always afraid of doing these episodes where people stand around and explain stuff and you give a lot of answers at once. Those three hours answered most of the questions of that season, and while it was good, it definitely felt like, "Okay... okay... alright..." It was not as thrilling as the hours leading up to it.

Sure. For us, we always think the reason that the show is a water cooler show, or still generates the audience it does and the Internet culture that it does is the audience wants to talk about the show. If the characters are talking about the show, you basically have a scenario where they're so interested in catching each other up that you can't propel the story forwards. Now if they need to share info for the purposes of story, then you have to write the scene. But the season four finale was really about bringing everything together. The drama of knowing, "How are these guys going to get off the island?," well, you've known that they did get off since the end of season three, so now we're just going back and showing you things you didn't already know about it, like that Penny picked them up. It's a big reveal, but everything else is, "Oh, they're in a helicopter... the helicopter's going into the water... is Demond going to survive because he's not one of the Oceanic Six?" So you can kind of do these things, but things like the press conference, Kate having dreams about Claire, you need to do them, but they're more about filling in blanks than moving forward. That's the nature of the year. You're telling a story out of sequence, and so the finale wound up being a lot of middle.

Let's get back to the question that I asked at the summer tour: Watching last season and seeing the Oceanic Six in the present, I start building up scenarios in my head. "Why these six? Why do they have to be so secretive?" And in the end it just turned out that those happened to be the ones who were on the helicopter, and Jack, for whatever reason, gets into his head that they need to tell this specific lie to avoid the wrath of Widmore. Did you know that was how it was going to play out going in?

We knew that the season was going to start with Locke and Jack splitting up, Locke taking a group of people with him, Jack a group with him, Jack group's mission was to get off the island, Locke's group mission was to stay on, and when we got to the end of the season, Jack and Locke would have one more scene. And in that scene, Locke would basically say to Jack, "We're supposed to be here, it's our destiny, you've gotta stay." And Jack would say, "(Bleep) you, I'm leaving." And Locke would say to Jack, "If you're gonna leave, you have to lie." So the idea to lie is Locke's. That we knew with great specificity. We also knew for over a year that Locke was in the coffin and that all the actions Jack is going through in the season three finale, reading the obituary, suicide attempt, are in the wake of Locke's death. The Jack/Locke of it all was incredibly mapped out in detail. The intricacies of the lie were, Jack is lying because Locke told him to, and there's a part of him that realizes maybe Locke was right. He's not consciously ready to accept that yet, so the lie's going to be sloppy, and he's making that up on the fly...

I pitched to the DVD team that it might be fun to have a documentary crew poke holes in how (bleepy) the lie is, on every level. You see those things about the WTC, on that trajectory. I thought it would be fun, but these guys came back with the film and I was, like, "Wow, the lie's even worse than I thought." It's one of those things where you basically say, if this really happened, if these six people showed up on some island in the South Pacific and said, "Here's what happened," no one would ever think to question the story. If there's any conspiracy, you have to start with the premise, "Why did they lie?"

How did you choose the Oceanic Six?

We basically looked at it as a very simple equation first, which is, "Who would want to leave the island, and who would not want to leave the island?" and that's what the whole season's about. Kate kind of waffles, Sawyer doesn't want to leave the island, and leaps off the chopper when he has a chance to do so. He's perfectly fine where he is. And clearly someone like Juliet would want to leave the island, so we had to figure out geographically, where people would want to be, and present a lifeboat situation where Billy Zane's running around the Titanic with a gun, and it's whoever can get on the chopper in time. Jack and Kate we had committed to, obviously, but when we talked about who the Six would be, we realized the majority of storytelling in season four would involve those people. But we were also setting things up for the ultimate endgame of the show which will hopefully reveal some more specificity about, "Why them?"

I've wondered about the team from the freighter, Faraday and those people. When we initially see them being put together, Naomi's supposed to lead them, they have some specific mission that apparently requires a mercenary, a physicist, a medium and an anthropologist and a chopper pilot. Are we still going to find out what that was? Did that get left by the wayside by the events of season four?

The intent was that their mission was to find Benjamin Linus, then call the mercs and they'll show up and remove Ben. But Faraday and Charlotte are both there for personal reasons. He's doing time/space experiments while he's there, Faraday has a lot of story yet to reveal. As does Charlotte, as does Miles. But the mission they've been tasked with to find Ben.

And this particular combination is the best Widmore could put together?

One would assume Miles was selected for his unique abilities. As to why Faraday comes, I think that the strategic thinking in sending those guys over first is, Faraday is the one who can figure how to get from the freighter to the island safely. Charlotte's an expert in anthropology and dead languages, and Widmore thinks that skill-set would be useful for locating Ben for some reason. Hopefully, once you have all the information from season five, that will not be as much of an unanswered question, and you'll have a little information as to why those people.

Time travel plays a big part in this season... This gets back to what I'm always asking you about: long-term planning. Obviously, some things get changed on the fly depending on what's working and what isn't, but did you know from the start how important time travel would be to the show, or is that something that evolved?

We were being asked, certainly as far back in season two, "Are you guys ever going to do time travel on the show?" And we responded, "Who says we haven't already?" The time travel elements of the show have been built into the DNA of the show all along.

Obviously, the big question going into this year is this idea of, there's only two fundamental approaches to time travel. There's the "Back to the Future"/"Heroes" approach where you can go back and change things, that stepping on a butterfly, suddenly, there's a different president, people have anetnna, George McFly's a best-selling author. And the other way is, if you went back in time and tried to kill Hitler, you would fail, because Hitler wasn't assassinated. What would happen if you were in the past and tried to change the present as you knew it, would you A)Fail, or B)Succeed, or C)Cause the thing you were trying to prevent. And that's really interesting to us, because there's no (do-over's).

You've been covering the show since the very beginning. There's been this very interesting thing for me, in terms of certain audience's members to grasp the idea that they're not watching a genre show. To them, I'm like, "What show were you watching? When the big column of smoke is in Eko's face in season two and he stares it down and it retracts into the jungle, that's not a genre show?" And they say, "No, it's not." And it makes you go, "Okay, this is how there can be both evolutionists and creationists." You can take the same data and apply it to your own spectrum. You can go, "Oh, it's not a genre show, because I don't like genre shows, but I like 'Lost.' Therefore, 'Lost' is not a genre show." That's the logic they apply. Well, we've been writing a genre show from the word go. We're sorry that it's getting more genre.

The biggest audience that ever watched the show was the premiere of season two, where we revealed that Desmond was down in the hatch pushing the button every 108 minutes because he's told the world will end. The show had a critical mass at that point, we'd just won the Emmy, people were talking about it, and they tuned in to see, 'What is this thing?" And they saw that, and went, "Alright, it is exactly what I thought it was. No thank you. Not for me."

But there's been a steady attrition over the years, because the show demands that you watch every episode. And Lord knows, I wish there was a way we could do the show where the casual viewer could come along, but once you start writing for those people, the long-term fans will (bleeping) kill you, as well they should. We always thought it would be a cult show, and that's the show we've been writing. But the fundamental strength of the characters -- and our ability to say, "Nobody's perfect, we've made mistakes, we'll continue to make them" -- as long as everyone's acting in a way that makes sense, even when the story doesn't entirely make sense, you can understand why they're behaving the way they are. If you introduce a time travel element on the show, maybe one character will say, "I don't want to be on the time travel show. I don't like time travel." That might make it more palatable to those viewers who don't like it, either.

And the other thing is, nothing on "Lost" lasts forever. These are books in a series of six books. If season five gets a bit too far out there in terms of its genre for you, it's just 17 hours in the grand mosaic of the show. Our hope is that, I feel like the greatest achievement that the show could have in terms of its legacy value, is that, 10 years from now, there'll be an active debate about what were the best and worst seasons of the show, and two people will be able to say to each other, "My favorite season was this season," and the other would say, "That's my least favorite season! It was terrible!" And they'd still be fans of the show as a whole.

Let me put it to you this way, then: Up until the time you cut the deal to end the show (after season six), you and Carlton had to write not knowing when you could move certain stories forward. If you'd somehow known going in that it would be six years and out, what things would you have done differently in those first three years?

It's a question that's impossible to answer, because that wasn't the condition of it. I think there probably would have been less internal pressure to introduce new characters into the show, but at the same time, new characters make it fresh. What would the show be without Ben and Juliet as series regulars? I think many shows that are on the air for a long time require a certain degree of cast turnover. We were certainly going to be killing people off and you then need to bring new people in.

But I think there would have been a lot more confidence in the storytelling, particularly in season's two and three. There's a stutter-step feel to season two and the first part of season three where you'd take two steps forward and one step back and one step forward. Even though the storytelling was emotionally-based, we'd realize that we didn't need to do 25 episodes in a year, we only needed to do 17. For us, the big win wasn't just setting an end date; it was also that the remaining seasons would have a reduced episodic order, so you could never get to a point where you're like, "Wow, we really want to activate the endgame of the season, but we're seven episodes away from that, so we need to just do a rollicking boar-hunting episode."

That being said, some of my favorite episodes of the show are ones like Hurley in the van. Which doesn't advance the plot in any way at all, except that they find Ben's dad, that's cool, but did you really need any of it?

No, but it's a really good episode.

A good episode of "Lost" is not necessarily one that gives you major plot revelations. It's one that works emotionally and kind of justifies its own existence. And there's some episodes that never needed to have existed.

I think that's what would have been different. If we'd known we could be six and out, we wouldn't have done 25-pisode seasons, the narrative would have been a lot tighter, but I wonder if those episodes like finding the Dharma bus would have existed. So I don't know that I would go back and change it.

Not only was it a good episode, but it sets up that wonderful moment in "Through the Looking Glass" where Hurley saves the day with the magic bus.

That's right. That was all (Edward) Kitsis and (Adam) Horowitz (who wrote "Tricia Tanaka Is Dead"), that pitch. They were saying, "Well, Hurley finds this bus and then uses it to save them in the finale."

What's interesting is, it's almost a time travel conundrum, which is, if I could go back in time and be more convincing about saying, 'I will write this pilot, but we need to be six years and out,' and therefore those episodes don't get written, would I do it? The answer is no. The journey is the journey. But more importantly, if "Stranger in a Strange Land" -- which, universally, is (considered) the worst episode we ever produced -- had not been produced, we would not have been able to convince the network that, "This is the future of the show: how Jack got his tattoos. Everything we've been saying for two years about what's to come, is now all here on the screen. You argued that an hour of Matthew Fox in emotionally-based conflicts, it doesn't matter what the flashback story is, it'll be fine. But now that we're doing his ninth flashback story, you just don't care."

We can't go back and apologize for the creative mistakes that we made, because we had to make them. If that episode hadn't been made, we weren't able to get a notes call that said, "We don't like this episode," and where we could then say, "We don't like it, either, but it's the best we can do if we're not moving the story forward. And we're now at a point, guys, where we can't move the story forward." And they asked, "Well, what would you do if we allowed you an end date?" And we said, "Give us an end date, and we'll tell you what we'll do." And the conversations then reached a new pitch.

Everything has to happen the way it happened.

You brought up the introduction of Ben before, and people who are agnostic to atheistic about the idea of a master plan will say, "Well, geez, they hired (Michael) Emerson to be a day player for an episode or two, and now he's the fulcrum of the show." Could you clarify?

We have plans, but the big plans have trap doors. Basically, the plan on the table was Rousseau captures the leader of The Others, but doesn't know who he is. She turns him over to Sayid, Sayid tortures him, he claims he's a balloonist, it's a case of mistaken identity, and it becomes a David E. Kelley story of "Will Sayid believe him or will he not?" It'll be a three-episode arc, at the end they'll realize he was lying all along and he'll escape. That was the plan all along. The trap door of the plan is that, once it's revealed that he's an Other, he'll admit to it and talk about the leader of The Others being a great man, in the third person. So if the actor is awesome, he's referring to himself. But if the actor is not awesome, he'll just be a lieutenant. He'll go running off, or get killed, and we'll meet the actual leader of The Others in the finale of this season when Jack and Kate and Sawyer and Hurley are double-crossed by Michael. We already had the spinal surgery story in our back pocket, and that's where the story was going. Emerson basically, not quite guaranteed, that the story ballooned from a three-episode arc to a six-episode arc that tied into Michael's return and the killing of Ana-Lucia.

At the beginning of the year, we have all these ideas, but we're writing a script every eight days. I love that people think we're smart enough -- I understand why there are atheists and agnostics out there, because they believe in a subjective reality of it. They believe that JK Rowling outlined all seven Harry Potter books because she had unlimited time, nobody to answer to and an unlimited budget. She could make her characters do whatever she wants. WE can't make our characters do whatever we want; our characters are played by actors. if we were just writing a novel, "Lost" would be uncompromised in its vision, and probably a lot worse than it's been for being realized by a cast and crew of 500 who helped realize it in their own separate ways. The idea that Michael Emerson, the way he played Ben, is more Napoleonic -- when you had thought of the leader of The Others, you thought of a big scary dude, and the fact that it's him is fascinating. Which was our thinking when we cast him. We cast the leader of The Others, but we didn't commit to it until Michael said, "You guys got any milk?"

Okay, lightning round. The story keeps moving forward, and therefore there are certain things you might never get back to. You don't have to tell me what the answer is to any of these mysteries, just whether they'll come up again

Okay

The four-toed foot?

You will see it again.

Why Libby was in the hospital with Hurley?

Hopefully, but contingent on factors beyond our control.

What happened between Alex and Rousseau during the brief period between their reunion and their deaths? Or was that another casualty of the episodes you lost to the strike?

Nope. Casualty.

Will we ever find out why Dharma (or someone else) is still making supply drops to the island?

I sure hope so.

Will the superpowers (or lack thereof) of Others like Ethan (superstrong and/or healing factor?) and Richard (immortal?) ever be clarified or explained?

Ethan works out a lot. And everyone heals fast on the island. Hasn't Sawyer been shot like, fourteen times by now?

Alan Sepinwall may be reached at asepinwall@starledger.com
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Monday, January 19, 2009

HIMYM, "Three Days of Snow": Five words I won't regret

Spoilers for the latest "How I Met Your Mother" coming up just as soon as I open my moon roof...

When my wife and I started dating, we lived in a city with a disproportionate number of VW Beetles, and because we're both basically 12-year-olds at heart, we began to play the magical game that is Punch Buggy. And as dating turned into co-habitation, then engagement, then marriage, we kept right on playing. But every now and then, one of us would ask the other, "What happens when we stop playing? Does that mean all the romance is gone? Does it mean we're just bored with each other?"

Eventually, we wound up moving out to suburbia, where people drive SUVs instead of cute little German imports, and so the choice was kind of made for us. Now, on those rare occasions when we drive past a punch buggy, we look at each other, confused, and sometimes one of us will rap the other in the leg, and sometimes not. And I tell myself that the romance isn't gone -- I just bruise more easily these days.

Now, a running game of Punch Buggy isn't quite on the level of Marshall and Lily's airport ritual involving a chauffeur's cap and local microbrews, but what real-life couple can hope to stack up to that amount of schmoopy? The point is, I get where that story was coming from, because I've lived it on my own immature level, and the conflict felt real to me.

Unfortunately, it was the only part of "Three Days of Snow" that did. Barney and Ted with the bar may be the single dumbest "HIMYM" plot I've ever seen -- and that includes the infamous "We're Not From Here." At the very least, if the writers felt compelled to do a "Cocktail" homage/spoof, they could have at least remembered that Tom Cruise and Bryan Brown did their famous drink-juggling act to the tune of"Hippy Hippy Shake,", not "Kokomo" (that was part of the drippy love story with Elisabeth Shue). If you're gonna reference a cheesey '80s movie, get the details right, or don't do it. Next thing you know, they'll be doing a joke about Arnold Schwarzenegger starring in "Over the Top."

And glad as I was to see Ranjit for the first time this season, the moment where he ditched his passenger at the airport to help Lily complete the ritual rang almost as false as the Ted/Barney plot. This is what I'm talking about when I complain that a "HIMYM" episode feels too sitcommy: behavior that has no basis in reality, and that makes absolutely no sense except in service to a joke that isn't very funny in the first place. There was a lot of that in this episode, enough that even the sweet climax with the marching band wasn't enough to compensate.

Ah, well. What did everybody else think?
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House, "Painless": Greg the plumber

Spoilers for tonight's "House" coming up just as soon as I take a placebo...

I watched "Painless" on the flight out to press tour, which feels like several lifetimes ago, but I remember not being that impressed by it at the time. I could attribute that to being on a plane, but A)I tend to throw myself into in-flight videos to help distract me from the usual irritations of air travel, where I probably pay less attention to the average episode of "House" watched at home; and B)On the flight home, I watched the upcoming HBO/Kevin Bacon movie "Taking Chance" and bawled my eyes out, so I'm not incapable of being moved under these conditions.

Nah, I just found the Patient of the Week pretty dull, suicide attempts and all. I would say that Foreman's discovery about Thirteen getting the placebo in the drug trial has the potential to be interesting, only I've been watching this storyline all year and don't really have faith in the creative team to make it exciting all of a sudden. And House's battle with contractors and his homeowner's policy might have been funnier if it had gotten a little more room to run.

Really, the only part that raised my interest levels at all was Cuddy offering to give Cameron her job while she spends more time with the baby -- not because it's necessarily the greatest story idea either, but because I want to see how the legions of Cameron fans (who, oddly enough, didn't seem to exist until after she quit the team at the end of season three) react to their heroine getting what would seem to be a more prominent role on the show. Chase is still off in surgery limbo, but they can't marginalize Cameron so long as House has to answer to her, can they?

What did everybody else think?
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Sunday, January 18, 2009

United States of Tara, "Pilot": Four-faced

Spoilers for the debut of "United States of Tara" coming up get my hair done up in samurai knots...

"Yeah, that is one weird thing." -Max

Because I wound up writing a Diablo Cody interview instead of a traditional review, I haven't really offered up an opinion on "United States of Tara" before now. The short, not-so-insightful version, is that I like it, but also understand why it really irritates some people (other critics, people who streamed the pilot).

Cody's dialogue will likely always be polarizing (though there's nothing in here on the level of the infamous "homeskillet" scene with Rainn Wilson at the start of "Juno"), Tara herself barely figures into the pilot, what we see of her "alters" so far makes them seem very broad, almost caricaturish, and because the family is so largely accepting of her condition, the stakes seem to be too low to sustain a series.

I get all that. But I don't mind.

Now, I'm coming at this having watched four episodes, not one. Some of the above issues are remedied in later episodes: there's more of Tara, there are (some) shadings to the alters, and you realize that the family's life isn't as mellow as John Corbett makes it out to be. But Cody's dialogue is Cody's dialogue (and as you may have noticed from my confusion during the interview, at least one of the other writers, Alexa Junge, is pretty good at mimicking her style), and even as we see more of Tara and learn more about the alters, it's still hard to shake the feeling that this is one long acting exercise for Toni Collette.

But again, I don't mind.

First, I like Cody's dialogue when she dials it back a bit from "honest-to-blog" levels. While all of the characters say clever things, I don't think they say them in the same voice. To me there's a difference in the structure and tone of something like Tara complaining that "I can't seem to micromanage my daughter's vagina" and Kate then telling Max, "I guess I should have let that fertilized egg implant itself in my uterus." They're both about female reproductive organs, and they're both fairly blunt, but I can't necessarily hear one coming out of the other's mouth, and vice versa. So mostly, I found it funny.

Beyond that, while the show is largely plot-less, I don't find the family's acceptance of Tara's condition to be a drawback. If anything, a show where they were still coming to grips with it, or a show where they tried to keep her condition hidden (ala, as my Canadian friend Rob Salem put it, "Bewitched" or "I Dream of Jeannie," or ala Diablo Cody's beloved "Small Wonder"), would get tired quickly. To bring in a comparison of a show I wouldn't have automatically thought of in the same breath as "United States of Tara," NBC's late, lamented "Journeyman" struggled in its early episodes because it had to go through the motions of having its hero, and then his wife, understand and accept that he was traveling back and forth through time. It wasn't until the time-travel became a fact of life -- when the fantastic became treated as the mundane -- that "Journeyman" really began to click, because, geez, how do you get through your day knowing that your husband could vanish into the past at any given moment?

Just because Max takes Tara's condition in the classic laid-back John Corbett fashion (if the dude could put up with Carrie Bradshaw's drama -- twice -- he can sure as heck handle Disassociative Identity Disorder) doesn't mean this life is easy for him. What do you do if your wife's body is coming onto you with the sex drive -- and personality -- of a teenage girl? How do you protect your gay son's feelings if his mother is prone to turning into a homophobic biker? What are the mechanics of life with DID like?

And speaking of which, my only knowledge of the disorder comes from TV and movies (and Grant Morrison's run on "Doom Patrol"), which means I basically know nothing about it. But it does make sense to me that the alters would in some way be stereotypes. Tara calls on them in times of stress, becoming teenaged T when she can't handle her parental responsibility, and Buck when she's feeling protective of her kids, but she hasn't been a teenager in a long time, and she's never been a Vietnam vet, let alone a man. I imagine her mind is filling in a lot of blanks with whatever knowledge Tara has, which is probably pretty scant.

There's also something to be said for holding the audience's hand a little bit with such a weird idea. Tara's family may be used to her, but we aren't, and so the characterizations of the alters are very broad, her physical transformation into them (the way her jaw re-sets itself when she becomes Buck, for instance) unmistakable, but that isn't always going to be the case, based both on what I've seen down the road and what Cody told me.

Anyway, that's me. While I have some issues here and there (some dealing with episodes down the road), for the most part I dug it.

What did everybody else think?
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Flight of the Conchords, "A Good Opportunity": Sing out, Murray!

Brief spoilers for the "Flight of the Conchords" season two premiere coming up just as soon as I weave some pants...

I'm burnt-out from press tour, and I made my point about the good comedy/weak songwriting aspect to these early episodes in Thursday's column, so I'm just going to go straight to the predictable bullet point list of the things I found especially funny in the premiere, and then you guys can talk about the rest:

• Murray, unable to curse, tells the guys "Stuff you!," followed by Jemaine complaining "Why did I get double-stuffed?"

• While Murray's opera was kind of forgettable, the first few moments when I realized he would be singing (or lip-syncing) opera was quite lovely

• Dave's story of the women on the plane, followed by him acknowledging that he knows actual women "pretty much"

• Dave's proof of his amazing deal-making prowess is a macrame owl

• Mel seems far more abusive to poor Doug this year, with the hog noises and her complaining, "Why did you come, Doug, if you didn't want to light a fire?"

• "I'm persona non-regatta, you know what that means?" "You're not at a yacht race?"

• The wonderful look of relief on Rhys Darby's face when Murray realizes that nobody noticed that he quit -- and also all that says about how non-essential Murray is to the consulate's operations

What did everybody else think?
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Big Love: season three premiere open thread

Fire away with any thoughts you have on the return of "Big Love." Click here to read the full post

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Two quick ones before I'm away

1. Matthew Weiner and Lionsgate closed a deal for him to remain as producer of "Mad Men" through at least the third and fourth seasons. No idea what the dollar figures are (nor do I care), but this made too much sense for all parties to have it not get done.

2. It occurs to me that, by re-posting the original "Friday Night Lights" reviews (in order to retain the comments) rather than creating new duplicate posts, the old posts aren't going to ping anyone's RSS or XML reader. So if you follow the blog via a reader and are watching the broadcast run of "FNL," you may want to get in the habit of coming directly to the blog every Friday night around 10 Eastern. The first one is here. Click here to read the full post

Friday, January 16, 2009

Battlestar Galactica, "Sometimes a Great Notion": I can't fight this feeling anymore

Spoilers for the return of "Battlestar Galactica" coming up just as soon as I jump in a river...

"Felix, please. I just want to hang onto this feeling for as long as I can." -Dualla

There's so much to talk about with "Sometimes a Great Notion" -- so many new theories to analyze, so many mind-blowing possibilities, the revelation of the final Cylon model -- but I want to start off with the part of the episode that, in the early going as I watched it, didn't seem to belong: Dualla's story.

For half the hour, as I watched Dualla and Lee grow closer together, go out on a date, flirt, etc., I kept asking myself, "Why are they spending so much time on this? Now is the right time to rekindle the Lee/Dualla romance that nobody cared about before?" Then I began to wonder if they were focusing on her so much because Dee was the final Cylon.

But, no. It was something much more shocking, much more devastating, and much more real: Dualla was there as a worst-case scenario for how people in the fleet are reacting to the discovery of the ruined Earth. All that chipperness, all that banter with Lee, the kiss... all of that was just her attempt to have one last good moment before she died, for the last thought to go through her head before the bullet to be a happy one.

As much as I love to speculate on the nature of the Cylons, the prophecies, the opera house and all the other stuff that Ron Moore promised he'd get back to, what really grabs me about the show (as I discussed in today's column) is its humanity, the way its characters react to situations the way you imagine real, contemporary people might.

How would you react if you had been living a horrific existence for years on end, and the only thing keeping you going is the hope of one day finding this wonderful place called Earth -- and then that hope gets taken away when Earth turns out to be ruined? I like to think I can handle myself well in a crisis, but I could very easily see myself committing suicide like Dualla, or curling into a fetal position like Roslin, or getting drunk and trying for a suicide-by-Cylon-cop like Adama. This is a brutal, brutal development on what wasn't the happiest show to begin with, and I'm glad team "Galactica" (led here by writers David Weddle and Bradley Thompson and director Michael Nankin) didn't flinch from that.

Nor did the actors. At this point, I almost don't need to lay the superlatives on Edward James Olmos and Mary McDonnell and all the rest, but because it's been a long time since we've seen them play these roles, why the hell not? Roslin becoming so small and frightened on the Galactica flight deck sent a chill through my bones, as did the sight of Adama drunker than Tigh and all but begging for his own death. Those two -- and Michael Hogan, and Jamie Bamber and Katee Sackhoff and Lucy Lawless and everybody else -- bring it, week after week, episode after episode, and as the stakes for the characters has risen, so has the intensity of their performances. I'm in awe.

I'm also trying really, really hard not to devote my every working brain cell to figuring out the explanation for all we learned in this episode. Starbuck's Viper somehow nuked Earth two thousand years ago? At the same time that Kobol faced its own disaster? And Tyrol and Anders and Tory and Tigh and Ellen all had lives on this very 21st century version of Earth, among a population that seems to have been entirely Cylon? And someone (something?) that looks, acts and thinks exactly like Starbuck is now in our fleet? Even Leoben is disturbed to find out how little he really understands about all of this?

And, again, ELLEN IS THE FINAL CYLON?

Actually, that last wasn't that shocking. That's not a complaint. It's just that we've been wondering for nearly two years who the final Cylon is, and therefore I'm sure all of our mental photo arrays have stopped on Ellen's mug shot sooner or later. But it still packs a punch: as if it wasn't enough that Saul knew he had murdered his wife for collaborating with Cylons when it turned out he was a Cylon, now it turns out that they were both Cylons. And the scene itself, in which a contemporary-looking Ellen has enough awareness of the grand plan to say this:

"It's okay. It's okay. Everything's in place. We'll be reborn -- again. Together."

What. The. Frak. Is going on here?

The TV critics press tour ended a few hours ago, and therefore my brain is in no condition to properly try to explain much of what we saw in "Sometimes a Great Notion," but you're very smart people, very passionate about this show, and I suspect you'll be able to pile up the theories while I recuperate.

In the meantime, some other thoughts:

Mo Ryan did an interview with Ron Moore about the origins of making Ellen the final Cylon, and other backstage decisions behind this episode. If it's not up now, it should be sometime later tonight.

• Though most of the characters were understandably despairing over the nature of Earth, I like that some of the characters were able to either bottle up their feelings or focus on the good things in life. Seeing Helo and Sharon playing so happily with little Hera was a nice contrast.

• I also love that they let us hear Lee's big speech to the fleet not as he delivered it, but as a joke between Lee and Dualla at the end of their date. Some of that is probably a budget thing, but it also allowed us to hear the inspirational words in an unexpected context.

• Bear McCreary's score is another element of the show whose genius almost goes without saying at this point, but I particularly enjoyed the furious drum pounding as Kara burned the corpse of the other Starbuck.

• The episode also did a great job of showing the fleet's grief in smaller ways, like how the extras in the corridors of Galactica always seemed so upset, or angry, or just worn out. Like the graffiti says, "Frak Earth."

• With Dualla's death, the number on the whiteboard is down to 39,650. Anyone remember what it was at at the start of the series? After New Caprica?

What did everybody else think?
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Friday Night Lights, "I Knew You When": A man for you in Dillon

Spoilers for the "Friday Night Lights" season three premiere coming up just as soon as I find out whether I deserve a smoothie...

NOTE: This and all subsequent "FNL" season three reviews were written after viewing the DirecTV cut, which can be several minutes longer than the NBC version. So both my review and the early comments may refer to scenes that were not shown on NBC.

Now that's more like it.

You all remember the problems I had with season two, and there's no need to rehash them here. While there was nothing in "I Knew You When" that gave me the goosebumps in the same way I got them from, say, Street getting his helmet cut off in the hospital, or Coach talking Saracen into being confident enough to play QB1, or Tami having The Talk with Julie, this still felt very much like an episode set in the same universe as the first season, where too much of season two seemed to be taking place in a parallel world where the faces were the same but nothing was quite right.

There were some bumpy spots -- the press conference felt more nakedly expository than a similar sequence at the start of season one, and the JD McCoy pass that has everyone all agog looked almost identical to the one that Saracen threw right after Street was paralyzed -- but overall, this was a very strong return to the show and its characters.

It was also, somewhat surprisingly, a very funny return. Now, "Friday Night Lights" has never suffered from excess solemnity -- "I've got two words for you: Members Only" -- but the premiere felt like a concentrated burst of all the amusing things that happen in Dillon, including:

* Coach ending the otherwise inspiring practice session with Smash by reminding Smash to pick up the cones;

* Pretty much every moment between Buddy and Tami, but particularly her "Let's not go there" when Buddy tried to do the clear eyes, full hearts bit;

* Landry and Tyra's simultaneous, conflicting assessment of the state of their relationship;

* Coach's patronizing, "Honey, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard" to Julie's insistence on eating free-range eggs;

* Coach righteous indignation about the smoothies;

* Coach's complete and utter cluelessness about how much better he has it than the rest of the Dillon faculty;

* Billy and Mindy's schmoopie talk while Mindy's dancing on the pole, and especially Billy's take on Tim and Lyla's relationship: "She went to bed with Jesus, and woke up with you. Jesus, you. You're a rebound from Jesus."

It almost felt like Jason Katims and company wanted to be absolutely clear that we were over and done with the gloominess of the murder, and Julie's rebellious phase, and everything else that went haywire last season. "Come back!" the premiere seemed to say. "It's fun to watch again!"

Which isn't to say that the premiere was a non-stop laugh riot. This is "Friday Night Lights." Heavy stuff goes down here. But the drama felt much more organic than it did last year, in part because so much of it was tied to the football team.

I suppose they could have pinned the failure of last year's team on Smash's suspension (which happened in the last episode before the strike shut down production), but an injury later in the season allows Gaius Charles to stay in the picture a bit longer than if Smash were healthy and off at college. I'm going to miss him once he's gone (in case you missed it, Charles and Scott Porter -- who wasn't in this episode -- will be doing four episodes apiece to get a proper send-off), but he'll still be around for nearly a third of the season, and he did some very nice work here. In particular, I liked seeing Smash's posture completely change once he donned the Alamo Freeze manager's uniform. That's not the kid who was going to dazzle Mack Brown, go to the NFL and endorse two rival sneaker companies simultaneously; that's just another poor Dillon soul whose life peaked in high school, and he knows it.

Eric's explanation for wanting so badly to help Smash -- "Cause I need something good to happen" -- speaks not only to the turmoil on the team in this episode, but all the bad things that happened last year. He made the right decision for his family in quitting the TMU gig, but nothing seems to have gone right for the team since he returned. They couldn't survive Smash's injury, Saracen and Riggins are feuding for reasons unknown (maybe Tim's just bitter that Saracen stopped ditching class with him to go to The Landing Strip?), and even a blowout season-opening win (easily the most plausible game we've ever seen on this show) winds up controversial because of JD McCoy's big throw. (Though, again, that particular beat would work better if we hadn't seen Saracen do something similar a couple of years ago.)

One of the things that's always distinguished "Friday Night Lights" is its use of silence, the way it asks its actors to tell you so much more than the characters will verbally tell each other. Kyle Chandler is arguably the best at that, and he gets a lot of opportunities to be expressive here. Other than that one line to Smash, Eric doesn't say much about the trouble with the Panthers, but you can see it on his face throughout the episode.

The re-focus on the football team not only brings the show back on-mission, but forces the characters to all interact with each other in a way they didn't last year. Even Tami's promotion, while probably not that realistic (she had apparently been a stay-at-home mom from the time Julie was born until early in the first season), places her in a situation where she'll be more involved in Eric's professional life, with Buddy, and maybe with the rest of the team.

(I also think that Tami made a mistake by appropriating Buddy's Jumbotron check, but it's a mistake I wasn't surprised to see her make, as opposed to last year, when characters often did stupid things that also seemed wildly out of character.)

Again, not a "wow" premiere, but a reassuringly solid one.

Some other thoughts:

* I will complain this once about the characters' ages and then be done with it, because this is the choice that's been made, right or wrong: I had a hard enough time buying Riggins, Lyla and Tyra still being in school last year, as they had all been established as contemporaries of 12th-grader Street, but asking me to believe that they were all sophomores in the first season is original recipe "90210" levels of silliness. Aside from the plausibility of it, it gets in the way of Tyra's storyline, since Tami made Tyra her pet project very early in what we now learn was her sophomore year, which should have been plenty of time to erase whatever GPA damage was done as a freshman. I like the story -- and I'm glad that the writers have remembered Tami's role as Tyra's mentor -- so I'll go with it, but with gritted teeth.

* Much better exposition than the press conference: Buddy rails about Lyla's mom moving off to California with her tree-hugging new husband (and, presumably the younger Garrity kids). Explains why Lyla and Buddy are now co-habitating, but in a funny way. On the other hand, they didn't explain what happened to Santiago -- and, based on Katims' surprised reaction when I asked about him at press tour, I'm not expecting them to.

* D.W. Moffett, who plays Joe McCoy, has had a career that's largely interchangeable with Brett Cullen (who plays Riggins Sr.) -- and, in fact, he replaced Cullen as the dad in the CW's short-lived "Life is Wild." So it's funny to see them both wind up as very different

* I liked that Riggins was so eager to support Smash's desire to give up. One of the few strong threads from last year was watching Riggins let his life fall apart because he didn't think he deserved any better, and the one disappointment of seeing him together with Lyla is that he's now sort of content, and even trying to better himself. Growth is good, but I hope we don't lose the epic self-destructive streak that made Riggins so compelling.

What did everybody else think?
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