"Premium Rush" - Film Review

2012 has been a kind year to Joseph Gordon-Levitt star of Premium Rush. He’s starred in four box office successes, including big name films such as The Dark Knight Rises, Looper, and Lincoln. And that’s coming off last year where he starred in Inception and 50/50, two other very good movie. Levitt is sort of an “it guy” now, and why shouldn’t he be? He’s a really good actor. Premium Rush doesn’t ask much in the way of acting from him, but he totally sells every scene he’s in. An early scene where a corrupt cop tries to steal a letter from him and he totally puts him down by calling him a “douchebag” made me realize just how good Levitt is. This is such a simple film with such a straightforward plot, but it’s to the credit of everyone involved that it’s as enjoyable, stylish, and fun as it is.

There’s more than one way to skin a cat (I guess if you’re into that sort of bizarre thing). I discussed this before when I was talking about The Vampire Diaries. In a way, (to oversimplify) there’s a dividing line between high minded, serious entertainment and less rigorous, less serious entertainment. The more high minded stuff attempts to edify you; it often has you think complexly and take away something meaningful from the work. The less serious works, on the other hand, are all about pure, unadulterated fun. That’s not to say the high minded works aren’t fun or the less serious works aren’t intelligent, but that they often have different thematic and structural aims in mind. 

I would say that Premium Rush falls in the latter category, and I say that as a compliment. Premium Rush is so assured with its high octane action that it plows through one sequence after another without ever missing a beat. Each action sequence is shot and edited with such style and finesse that it’s hard not to enjoy yourself while watching it.

More importantly perhaps: the film makes bike riding a subject matter worth watching, a feat not done since the last Tour-de-France. While I personally care little for such a topic, it’s to the credit of director David Koepp, writers Koepp and John Kamps, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s typical charm at the heart of the film that turn this by the numbers action movie into such a well-crafted action thriller.

Grade: B

“Welcome to fucking Deadwood. Can be combative”: Thoughts on Season 2 of "Deadwood"

In which I talk A LOT  about the idea of "community" as depicted in Season 2 of Deadwood.

Spoilers on Season 2 of Deadwood Below:

“You can love your country but it can’t love you,” a professor of mine used to say. He was referring to modern nation states and their formation. Modern nation states are social, psychological constructs; in essence they’re (like the title of the first two episodes) “lies agreed upon”. The determined physical and abstract boundaries of the state and kinship and ties between people within the states aren’t real. They’re formations made out of self-interest, selfishness, and necessity. That might seem like an absolutely crazy thing to say, but it’s a point argued by a number of historians. And to me, it seems like Deadwood in its portrayal of the formation of societies (and a modern one at that) is depicting a fair amount of this truth. We lie to ourselves about how our nations are formed (through violence, deception, and more than a few evil deeds). We’re also oftentimes devout, to a fault, towards our nation when in all honesty the “nation” is an idea; an abstract concept that though we may fight for and fervently believe in, can’t love us.

However, it’s hard not to root for the denizens of Deadwood and the bonds they’ve formed. It’s also hard not to be nervous about Mr. Wolcott and Hearst’s encroachments on what Al and Seth and co. have created out of nothing. Watch in the 5^th episode as Bullock immediately sides with Al the moment he’s told that Wolcott and the Commissioner, along with Cy, have been stirring up trouble to threaten the community they’ve formed. Al and Seth have just had a fight that had them tumbling over the balcony of the Gem, but they put aside their differences for the greater good of Deadwood. The community may be merely an idea, but damn if it doesn’t feel like it’s one worth fighting for.  

And whenever people act out of self-interest or for selfish reasons rather than for the good of the community that is when things go seriously amiss in Deadwood. Seth, in trying to deal with the consequences of his wife’s arrival and his affair with Alma, is forced to think of himself and his family and ignores the issues emerging in the camp. Al’s failure to acknowledge his ailments, and later treating and recovering from them, sidelines him for the better part of three episodes. With both of them confronting their own problems, they’re heedless to the trouble brewing that, had they been attentive to it, may have been nipped in the bud. Cy, Wolcott, Commissioner Jarry, and Hearst’s intentions and actions in the interest of profit and power, ultimately, continually breed complications in the camp that threaten to fracture it. Deadwood seems to argue (and quite optimistically) that good things come of individuals working together for greater causes beyond themselves. Season 1 saw the camp splintered with various people at odds over their beliefs; but by the end of the First Season, we saw characters put aside their differences and accept their roles as part of the community. Al accepted his position as pseudo-mayor of Deadwood, and Seth accepted the need to be sheriff. Lo and behold when the two of them fail to be the bigger man and forgo their selfish anger at one another, not only does it lead to a nasty fight between the two of them, but it in turn threatens the very foundation of community they’ve helped construct.  

When external incursions arise and when our leading citizens fail to consider the greater good of the community, it feels as if it’s only a matter of time before everything explodes. Hearst isn’t the only outside force. Miss Isringhausen, working for the Pinkertons, has manipulated Silas Adams, and set her sights on taking down Alma. And if Al weren’t as bright as he is, she may have twisted him to her will as well. Instead, Al sees right through her and her scheme; he realizes the threat the Pinkertons hold against him and the community, and tells Alma (who he’s oddly enough never had an interaction with before). Alma reminds Al that he’s responsible for the death of her late husband, and the death of the family of Sofia, who’s in her care. However, at the moment, there are bigger problems than rightfully held grudges.

The 2^nd season is partially about outside forces upsetting the balance in Deadwood. Many shows use their second seasons to do this. Once the characters and world have been built up, it’s interesting to provide a conflict to put against them. In Deadwood, it isn’t just one though, but several. Hearst and the Pinkertons are catalyzing forces, but these create a rippling effect that create more and more problems. Doc Cochran sees the poorly mistreated Asian prostitutes brought in by an agent of Hearst, and is infuriated. He even begs Cy to let him treat them “pro bono”. Mr. Wu is also in the lurch; Hearst’s agent is an Asian fluent in English who threatens to displace Wu and his enterprises in the Asian part of Deadwood. Poor Merrick refuses to post a notice in his paper written by Wolcott, instead posting it outside his door in protest. In retaliation, Cy wrecks his newspaper building, destroying the equipment and even leaving dog crap in the corner. Even goodhearted Charlie Utter, who at times feels as if he could hardly hurt a fly, goes off the handle and relentlessly beats up Wolcott for killing 3 prostitutes in Joanie’s brothel. Joanie survives the attack on the Chez Ami, sending away her remaining employees for fear of their lives, but she’s now become emotionally devastated and constantly fears for her life. Steve the Drunk, pissed off by Merrick’s posted notice, takes out his anger on one of the two members of Deadwood’s African American community, Sam. If it weren’t for a last minute intervention by Seth, Sam may very well have been tarred and feathered. 

The incursions are affecting nearly everyone in Deadwood. Most people, except  Alma, end up selling off their claims when Wolcott spreads rumors that titles may be taken away by the government (in a ploy to scoop up all the land claims for Hearst). Mose Manuel kills his brother when he refuses to sell over his share of their land claim, all for some money. When Mose gets a power trip off this, it ultimately leads to him getting shot in the following episode. 

Seth is also facing a newly arrived outside force on the homefront in the form of his wife Martha and son William. There’s little love between them, and the fact that Seth clearly had an affair with Alma only helps to make matters worse. The relationship strains to fall apart underneath all the feigned courtesies. There’s little love between them, and only a seemingly misplaced sense of obligation. Alma is also burdened by the consequences of her affair with Seth. Not only has the gossip been going around about their relationship, but now Alma finds herself pregnant with his child and uncertain as to whether she should get rid of it or not. This is made all the more tense when Mrs. Bullock seeks out Alma, and though they never speak of the affair, it’s clearly the subtext underwriting all the pleasantries.

Perhaps the most obvious outside encroachment is the advancement of civilization. The telegraph poles are slowly creeping towards the camp (and telegraph operator Blazanov eventually arrives in the camp). Deadwood may very well soon become absorbed into the U.S. (by season’s end, it will in fact have). Hearst’s mere interest in the town suggests that the camp has made significant strides towards unifying and civilizing. The citizens of Deadwood aren’t always fighting these encroachments (although they often do), but rather they would like to see them happen on their own terms. Al uses Seth's previous standing with contacts in Montana to convince Yankton officials that Montana intends to annex Deadwood (in order to get a better offer from Dakota).    

It’s ultimately when Al and Seth (ostensibly the series’s protagonists) are confronting these external problems, Mrs. Bullock (and Alma for that matter as well) and Ms. Isringhausen (and they seem to finally be alleviating these issues), that tragedy strikes and Bullock’s son is trampled by a horse. Perhaps if Seth hadn’t let the affair go as far he did or perhaps if Al had admitted to himself that his illness needed to be dealt with right away, events would have transpired differently and young William would still be alive. When the community fails to act together, bad things happen. When they act for individual gain (unless it serves the dual purpose of bettering Deadwood as well), the community and in turn themselves are put at risk.

It’s no coincidence that Alma and Ellesworth’s marriage is intercut with shots of Al negotiating Deadwood’s annexation. They’re both odd and hesitant mergers, but entirely necessary ones. They’re both needed for the bettering of the community. They both bring together people who for a long time were at odds with one another but now see the value of coming together.

So yes, Deadwood as a community is an abstract, intangible notion, much as are modern nation states might be. But by coming together (the series is constantly creating connections between various characters either through camerawork or writing), the people of Deadwood tend to better themselves, eachother, and the community as a whole.

Deadwood’s second season alleviated many of my problems with the first season. Better plotting of storylines led to stories that carried out throughout the season and that reached satisfying conclusions in the last few episodes. Even as its cast deepened and its writing and narrative became denser, Deadwood pulled off one of the best seasons of television in recent memory. After fighting Wolcott, Hearst, and Commissioner Jarry’s advances all season, Al finally gets the upper hand in the finale. Wolcott has been disgraced and committed suicide; Wu’s Asian rival has been killed; Deadwood is soon to be annexed and hold elections. Seth and Martha have patched up their marriage as best they can (albeit mostly sadly due to William's death). Miss Isringhausen has fled the camp and Al has given proof of her intentions to Alma to use against her scheming family. Problems obviously still exist (Hearst is finally in town and will probably stir up more trouble next season), but for now, our foulmouthed Western town is at peace.   

"How about we try it my way now?": My Thoughts on Season 1 of "The Shield"

 Spoilers on Season 1 of The Shield Below:

“Good cop and bad cop have left for the day. I'm a different kind of cop.” –Vic Mackey

Antiheroism has rarely looked as good as it does on Michael Chiklis’s Vic Mackey in The Shield. The series’s surprisingly assured first season about a corrupt cop who’ll keep crime at bay by any means necessary is thoroughly compelling, and compulsively watchable television. Chiklas’s portrayal of Mackey and the writing for the character continually provide layers to the individual to the point where he’s not merely some loathsome brute. In fact, much of what Mackey does feels like it’s in the interest of the greater good of his precinct.* Or as CCH Pounder’s Det. Claudette Wyms puts it in the Pilot, people don’t care how crime is prevented so long as their streets feel safe. Though Mackey does a number of terribly egregious things (notably stealing drugs from a crime scene, to make money off of later), many of his illicit activities make him feel more noble or at least sympathetic. He helps out the prostitute Connie as she struggles with addiction; he turns a blind eye to certain drug trafficking in order to decrease gang violence. Vic is also a family man, and on a number of occasions is deeply disturbed by criminal activity related to the abuse or mistreatment of children. Vic Mackey isn’t always a good person (I haven’t even mentioned how he strayed from his marriage from his always loving and concerned wife Corinne), but he certainly is one of the most entertaining and fascinating television characters in recent memory.

*(NOTE: I realize this is may perhaps an unpopular opinion. Yes, Vic is on one level a bad person. He does some awful things, especially at the end of the Pilot, which I'll get into later. But Vic is not merely the villain as protagonist. He's much less a one-note character than that. Vic, unlike other members of the strike team, particularly Walton Goggin's Shane Vendrell, doesn't purely beat up on people and plant drugs for the pure thrill of it. He takes little pleasure in killing Terry. But he knows there was probably no other way around Terry without jeopardizing the Strike Team.

Acevada is often times just as bad as Vic, but in a very different way. He's so thoroughly interested in political gain and appearances that it clouds all of his judgement. He doesn't even particularly care about taking Mackey down because he's corrupt, but because it will look good for him when he runs for political office. And he only sides with Vic against Gilroy due to him being a bigger fish to fry)

As tv critic Alan Sepinwall points out, “The Shield ended HBO’s monopoly on this kind of drama”. This is partially part of the reason why it’s a series worth discussing (although clearly not the only one). Prior to its debut in 2002, HBO had Oz and The Sopranos, and no other network was attempting this type of serialized, ensemble narrative. Like both Oz and The Sopranos before it, The Shield built a series around an antihero protagonist surrounded by a larger cast that in their own right were often just as fascinating as the lead. The Shield doesn’t have any major character I don’t find myself at least slightly interested in. Rookie police officer Julien Lowe’s (as played by Michael Jace) struggles between his Christian values and his budding homosexuality is incredibly heartbreaking and was often just as interesting and powerful to watch as Vic’s attempts to preserve the integrity of the Strike Team.

What’s perhaps even more astonishing than a series breaking HBO’s monopoly on this type of drama was that FX was the channel to succeed in achieving this. Early on its existence FX aired some forgettable original programming before turning to primarily airing reruns. The Shield came out of nowhere. To quote Sepinwall again, “it's one of the classic cases of a pilot changing everything you think about an actor, a genre, a network, etc., and forcing you to watch it every week.” The Pilot is a great piece of television that after watching I don’t know how you couldn’t be sold on the need to watch more of the series. While the episode is a solid hour of television, it’s the twist ending where Vic kills newly added Strike team member Terry Crowley (who we find out earlier in the episode was working with new Farmington police captain David Aceveda to take down Mackey) that truly elevates the episode and the series to a new level of storytelling that it would continue to excel at over the course of the 1^st Season. 

The series would often tell procedural stories (in many instances these cases would carry over across episodes), but the show had its officers and detectives handle cases that were incredibly gruesome and violent yet frighteningly plausible and realistic. Sure, Vic’s detainment of a professional basketball player so he misses a game or rappers leading a gang war stretch credulity. But the pedophile holding a kid hostage or a prostitution ring that makes child porn are cases that feel sickeningly believable. The series exposed the underbelly of LA in all its gritty, dark glory, and never once attempted to soften the picture. 

When stories came to a head in the penultimate and final episodes, the raised stakes had incrementally been raised over the course of the season so that it felt well-earned as well as highly intense. When Gilroy stepped foot in Vic’s home, I was supremely nervous about his family. Not just because I’ve come to like Vic, but because no matter the argument against him, his family has proven to be nice and completely innocent.  

More and more the show forced me to ask, “How is Vic going to get out of this one?” Just how deeply marred could Vic get himself and the Strike Team before he’d reach a point of no return? Every time he got out of a mess, the series never made me doubt for a second the plausibility of it. Vic Mackey lived to fight another day again and again. With multiple forces continually rallying against him and the brutality of the Strike Team, it was always great television to see him maneuver his way out of one tight spot after another.  

Thoughts on Season 1 of "New Girl"

Something interesting happened over the course of New Girl’s first season. It got kinda good.

That’s not to say it’s great. However, for a series that I and many others had largely written off early in its run, New Girl has made major advances throughout the course of its first season. The first couple of episodes are largely pretty bad. The characters were neither likable nor interesting (the loss of Daman Wayans Jr. after the pilots only dug the series a bigger hole to get out of) and the series was formless and directionless. 

The show’s initial flirtation with the idea of the series as a vehicle for star Zoe Deschanel fizzled out and transformed into something much more interesting. The series probably could have survived with this early mission statement in mind, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as formidable or entertaining as it has become. Sure, there’s still much that needs to retooled in order for the series to rise a tier in quality, but New Girl has become a show that’s worth stopping in on for 30 minutes. 

Max Greenfield’s great work as Schmidt and the writers’ ability to nail that character have led to Schmidt being a break out character who is tremendously funny and adorably nerdy. Sad sack grouch Nick as portrayed by Jake Johnson could be a little too self-loathing for his own good, but when allowed to do gleeful improvisational work or play off the other actors he proved himself capable. Lamorne Morris has continually been rather good as Winston, but he’s been poorly utilized by the writers and lacked storylines. His late additional entry to replace Wayans in part led to the series to suffer in trying to discover its voice.

When the series stopped emphasizing the childlike whimsy of Jess and focused on the strengths of its ensemble, including Hannah Simone (CeCe and Schmidt’s growing relationship has been a season highlight and the two have great chemistry), the series became a much funnier show that proved it was worth recognizing. It became a show about 30somethings confronting their own inadequacies, coping with growing up and accepting responsibility, and creating an ad hoc family. 

There are arguably better series on tv, even better, funnier comedies (though I'd argue that with enough effort in its 2nd season, it could definitely reach that point). But New Girl is a case study of how first seasons are often evolutionary periods in the histories of many, many shows, and particularly comedies. 

"Struck by Lighning" - Film Review

For some strange reason Glee star Chris Colfer decided to write a movie. And for some other odd reason he also ended up starring as the lead in that movie. The result was Struck by Lightning.

The film is smug, aimless, and thinks it’s a whole lot smarter than it actually is. This is a total shame because it has an undeservedly great cast, including Rebel Wilson, Christina Hendricks, Sarah Hyland, Alison Kinsey, Ashley Richards, and Allison Janney.

Colfer attempts to be his usual charming, mawkish self, but fails to create sympathy for the unredeemable and highly unlikable protagonist Carson Phillips. Phillips blackmails other students to get writings for a literary journal which he intends to send to Northwestern to impress them. The whole scheme is selfish and the film’s best attempts to soften Phillips and his conniving never stop either from being totally mean-spirited, and honestly just utterly dickish.  

The teen movie is a tricky and specific movie that when handled poorly is an unmitigated disaster. But when it’s handled appropriately it can lead to wonderful movies, even recent ones such as Easy A. Now “unmitigated disaster” might be an overstatement in describing Struck By Lighting, but merely watchable is not high praise for a film.  

And though the film has a surprising number of amusing one liners delivered by a great, but under-serviced cast, the story is too thin and underdeveloped to motivate an earnest connection to the narrative. 

Grade: C+

"Clear Eyes. Full Hearts. Can't Lose": My Thoughts on Friday Night Lights

“You love football. You just don’t know it yet” - Coach Taylor

“You know it's kinda like this drug. When you're out of it, you see it for what it really is. But when you're in it, it seems like there's no other possible reality.” - Tyra

To paraphrase the great tv critic Dan Fienberg, while my brain might tell me that other shows are better, my heart tells me that Friday Night Lights is simply a tier in quality above them. 

The show may have been clichéd at times (even pretty bad during its 2^nd season, which the less we speak of the better), but the series had an emotional clarity and honesty that was unlike anything else on television.

Its documentary-like quality and improvisational nature allowed for actors to be completely natural and play scenes with an openness that many other shows might shy away from. Friday Night Lights didn’t just do emotional material, it made you feel as if you knew exactly what its characters were experiencing and feeling, as if you were experiencing events right along with them. That rawness and emotional intensity, many times, had the series putting you through the ringer. To put it another way, if you weren’t tearing up just a little bit at various points during an episode, you might not have a soul. 

This emotional honesty often left the series high and dry when it came to ratings. The show was always on the verge of cancellation, and miraculously got to live on for 5 seasons due to a deal NBC struck with DirectTV. The other factor in this was that the series was primarily, but not always, about a high school football coach and his team. However, that short sells the series, which in truth was about so much more. The show wasn’t just about football, but small town politics, family, race, class, and community. The show used football as a lens through which we could glimpse the town and the people that inhabited it. To put it more succinctly, it was about what football does to a football crazed town. 

So though the series was at times clichéd, it was to the credit of everyone involved that its execution elevated it above this. When Julie is thinking about having sex with her boyfriend Matt, the series refuses to go into after school special territory. Her mother sits down and has a conversation with her about having sex. But Mrs. Coach doesn’t tell her “SEX BEFORE MARRIAGE IS BAD. RAWRR!!” Instead, we see her be sad that her daughter is growing up, concerned for her getting hurt, and let her know that no matter what she does, she’ll always love her. Take the race question of the first season; after assistant coach Mackey makes an unintended racist comment, running back “Smash” Williams decides the African American players should no longer play. The series is balancing a tight wire throughout, but it is worth it for how all the black players walk off the field in unison at the end of the episode. Jason Street’s sendoff in the 3^rd season stretches credulity, as he receives a sports agent position he’s massively under-qualified for. However, it’s all worth it to see him beg his baby mamma to let him stay with her. And it’s to the credit of Scott Porter that we’re as sold on his proposal as she is.

The series was always about a married couple at its heart. The other major characters were teens that eventually left the town, but rather than focus on their journeys outside of Dillon, Texas; the show continued to stay and add new characters that Coach Taylor and his wife Tami had to deal with. Married couples in dramas seem to be a terribly difficult territory for tv shows to portray. Series tend to act as if it’s hard to create interesting conflict for individuals that are married. Even really believable fictional marriages such as the Cohens on The O.C.  dealt with affairs and other crazy things that a stable, happy marriage had no right to be confronting. Jason Katims and company avoided this pratfall by scaling down conflicts. Worrying about sending their kid off to daycare, being sad over sending their kid off to college, wanting to buy a house they can’t afford, etc. Coach and Mrs. Coach actually fought a surprising amount but it was always realistic complications, and it always ended with them having an honest discussion where they worked it out. In the hands of Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton, the Taylors were a realistic married couple that was fun to watch and who you never doubted for a moment loved eachother.   

The series was all about the small scale. Small dramas in a small town. This was its bread and butter. This never was more stark than the show’s very bad 2^nd Season which distanced itself both from football and from the small, everyday things of a small town in Texas. Instead, we got weird stories such as Landry killing a rapist and him and Tyra trying to cover it up, Matt having an illegal affair with his much older Latina in-home nurse, and a sort of threeway in Mexico between Tim, Jason, and Lyla. It was the sort of material that made the series feel like it was completely different from the 1^st season that had made it so great in the first place. At times it felt like 6 different, unconnected stories that just happened to take place in the same town. Thankfully the 3^rd season reestablished its roots and we got four more really great, but sadly shortened, seasons.

The shows quiet, pragmatic optimism, its shaping of characters into good but flawed people, and its emotional depth and sincerity made Friday Night Lights into a pleasure to watch.  

Thoughts on Season 1 of "Fringe"

First seasons are often about shows figuring out what they want to be. Very few series start out hitting the ground running. This was very much the case for Fringe’s first season.

The main problem with Fringe’s shaky and often frustrating first season was its inability to balance larger narrative mythology with more episodic, specific procedural developments. The procedural stuff was usually fairly decent. However, the series always shined just a little brighter when it revealed a bit more about what exactly the deal was with “The Pattern”.

The first nine episodes floundered. Though the crazy scifi events of any given episode were usually interesting enough, they never really sparked a significant fervor in me to continue watching the show. There were obviously glimpses of the excellence of what the series could be in certain episodes (The Pilot and “Arrival” were early efforts that left me intrigued enough to believe the series, given the push in the right direction could be something that I would really enjoy). But it remained unfocused and a grab bag of a narrative. It’s as if the show’s writers didn’t figure out what they wanted to do with the show going forward until incredibly late into the game.

This isn’t an uncommon occurrence, but for a show like Fringe, it can suck a lot of life and liveliness out of it. This was never more apparent than the season’s 10^th and 11^th episodes “Safe” and “Bound” where the series emphasized the larger picture mythology more than ever before. The two episodes were the best episodes the show had produced up to that point. These episodes were so effective because they connected the more episodic, specific procedural events to the bigger picture. The writers also tied together elements from previous episodes (including “The Equation” and “In Which We Meet Mr. Jones”); finally making them meaningful elements to the bigger story. 

The more the series advanced this season, the more abundantly clear it became that the isolated stories that were disconnected from the larger story and mythology just weren’t working. By the end when the series essentially went for broke, stuck to its guns, and went for the parallel universe stuff, it became incredibly fun to watch. The character moments felt honest and spot-on; the action felt intense and unforced; and all the crazy twists hit harder because they had much, much larger implications for what was to come. 

Now serialization doesn’t necessarily imply that a show is any better than any other series. Law and Order and the various CSI series do procedural stories on a weekly basis, and that’s all well and good. I, however, personally find serialized, long arc stories to be much more entertaining to watch in tv dramas. In the case of Fringe, the mythology of the show has been far more interesting and enthralling than anything else the show has tried to attempt. I can rarely get invested in individuals caught up in the crazy events of a particular episode who I know are never going to return after that episode. There’s no reason for me to get emotionally invested, no matter how well-executed. On the other hand, when the procedural work is linked to the main characters and the mythology it engages me in a way that the one-off tales don’t. 

Fringe’s character work was also spotty. John Noble’s performance as Walter Bishop was an obvious stand out, and he appeared to have a lot of fun with the role. However, Anna Torv’s Lena Dunham was at times poorly written; often too plain for me to care about her. Other characters such as Lance Reddick’s Agent Broyles, Kirk Acevedo’s Charlie Francis, and Jasika Nicole’s Astrid were highly underutilized despite seeming like they could have carried much bigger stories. Reddick, in particular, was always great in his scenes, but these were too brief for such a talent. 

Fringe hinted its whole season that there was potential lying underneath the surface. And when it handled itself right that greatness showed through. As a broadcast network, Fox probably wasn’t the best network to handle a series like Fringe. Rarely does a series with as much bizarre science fiction elements and an increasingly dense mythology garner large ratings (which apparently have continually declined over the series's run). Having to appeal to such a broad base of an audience probably tied the hands of the series initially, and I doubt going forward they're going to be capable of continuing to appeal to everyone. That can only mean good things for mythology story lovers such as myself.

I look forward to watching the show’s 2^nd season. As problematic as its first season might have been, when it was firing on all cylinders, it was an immensely enjoyable show. With the implications of the last few episodes still up in the air, the series seems to be emphasizing its mythology more, which I can only assume will do wonders for its storytelling.