Prodigy: Touch of Grey

Season 2 of Star Trek: Prodigy concluded with a two-part episode -- and "Touch of Grey" was the last episode before that.

Asencia throws the captured Protostar cadets into an arena with a captive Loom to menace and execute them. Voyager has very little time to secure their rescue -- but Janeway, Chakotay, the Doctor, and Wesley Crusher are on the case.

The pendulum swings quite a bit in the last chunk of this season: some episodes center the young main characters in the story, and others -- like this one -- give the spotlight to the legacy franchise characters. There simply isn't much for Dal, Gwyn, and the gang to do in this episode but run from the Loom. 

And that by itself really tripped me up for too big a chunk of the episode's short runtime. At some point, we get a clear shot showing the technological collar that's been attached to the Loom, implicitly forcing it to stay in our reality, and perhaps even driving it into its extra-aggressive rampage. (While depriving it of its most dangerous powers? Maybe?) But there's a lot of hand-waving here.

Not the least of which is the question, how did Asencia figure out how to control (or at least confine) a Loom when even Wesley Crusher couldn't stop them with his extra timey-wimey knowledge? This is more of the artificial inflation of Asencia as apex villain that hasn't really made sense to me. But at least Jameela Jamil keeps delivering a deliciously wicked vocal performance as the character. The character isn't quoting authors and playwrights like Khan or General Kang, but she's bringing the same energy.

Like I said, though, this is more of an episode for the legacy characters -- and they do get some nice moments in it. The Doctor's holographic deception to stall Asencia is the "big scene," but I most appreciate a much quieter scene that opened the episode: Chakotay acknowledging Janeway's 14th anniversary commanding a starship. It's a nice moment reminding us of how much these characters have shared, informed by how much history the actors themselves share. Plus, there's extra resonance in it all when you think about it specifically from Chakotay's point of view: he had 7 years with Janeway every day, another 7 post-return-to-Earth... and a staggering 10 years where he was stuck in isolation with the Protostar and only the holographic version of Janeway for company. (He was stuck there longer than he was stuck in the Delta Quadrant!)

That's a lovely scene with surprising emotional heft... but it's also just one scene amid an episode that's otherwise mostly run-and-gun action. For me, it wasn't a favorite of the season. I give "Touch of Grey" a B-.

Enterprise Flashback: Sleeping Dogs

After a series premiere that heavily featured the Klingons, Enterprise didn't showcase them again until much later in the season, with "Sleeping Dogs."

Enterprise detects a Klingon ship that is sinking into the atmosphere of a gas giant. When a team boards the ship to mount a rescue, they find the Klingons unconscious... save for one who misinterprets their intentions as hostile. The team must find a way to save the ship and themselves.

There are a lot of decent elements to this episode. As always, the production values feel great, from the sets of the Klingon ship to the exterior visuals of it caught in the swirling gasses of the planet. (The CG Klingon targs don't look amazing, though I appreciate the attempt to do something more credible than almost literally putting lipstick on a pig, as The Next Generation did in an early episode.)

The Klingons are interesting here. It still remains to be seen how the series will bridge the gap between the relatively positive interactions we're getting now and the "at war" status Klingons have with the Federation come the time of the original series. But I enjoy how the one conscious Klingon officer is basically a conspiracy nut, spouting nonsense to her perceived captors. And I like the moment in the end where the Klingon captain (played by the ever-present Vaughn Armstrong) tries to save face by blustering at Archer.

I also appreciate that the writers are making an effort to course correct. I think perhaps they realized that they'd crafted Hoshi Sato to be so green, so loaded with anxiety about space travel, that it was going to be hard to put her in the sorts of situations that Star Trek requires. This episode seems to be an effort to sand off the corners, show that she is picking up some experience, and is finding her "sea legs." Still, a lot of this episode feels a bit familiar after the earlier episode that centered on Hoshi. And it's strange how the climax of the story sees her become an expert in weapons detonation, coming up with better ideas than Malcolm Reed on how to save them.

I don't love the bad tropes that Enterprise is already falling into. People ignore T'Pol's advice more often than Worf was ignored on The Next Generation -- and she's right more often. (Here, she points out that Klingons would rather die in the line of duty, and should be left alone.) Yes, I understand that listening to T'Pol would mean you don't have an episode, but I feel like they should stop making her the voice of reason if no one on the show -- Archer most of all -- is going to listen to reason.

Similarly, I question Archer actually saying to Trip: remind me to stop helping people. This is only highlighting another already-developed trope of Enterprise, that Archer's actions are never the right ones to carry out his intentions. (He's "new at this.") Clearly, the show isn't actually going to have him stop putting the ship in jeopardy, or again... we wouldn't have a show. So why call attention to it?

Instead, why not have Archer change something about himself that the show could actually change? Here's another episode where he punks his junior officers for his own twisted amusement, making Hoshi grovel to get on an away mission before revealing that T'Pol has already requested her presence. To me, Archer's humor feels laced with weird cruelty an uncomfortable portion of the time. At least in this episode, he finally decides to consult an expert and read up on what Vulcans know about Klingons.

Other observations:

• Enterprise really seems to like its pre-credits scene to be just "slice of life" stuff that doesn't actually tee up the story to come. This episode has Hoshi in target practice with Malcolm, and while this does touch on the themes of her greenness (and establishes Reed's cold, which... kind of isn't a thing in the episode), it doesn't get us to the "ship is sinking into a gas giant" meat of the story.

• I had a note that the three members of the away team ultimately take off their spacesuits and spend the rest of the episode in something close to underwear. But then they're actually in underwear for the final scene, in Enterprise's notorious decontamination chamber. It is a bit less salacious this time; they aren't rubbing gel all over each other.

• It doesn't seem great to put Reed -- who has a cold -- into the same decon chamber as Hoshi and T'Pol. Perhaps there's a gel for that?

• Archer was aboard the Klingon ship too, with the helmet of his spacesuit off. Why isn't he in decon?

I give "Sleeping Dogs" a B-. It's an interesting story, but the way that it's told highlights many of the elements of the series that aren't working for me.

Lower Decks: Starbase 80?!

Another week of Star Trek: Lower Decks, another great episode of Star Trek: Lower Decks. This time, we're off to "Starbase 80?!"

When the Cerritos needs urgent repair, the only option within range is the infamous Starbase 80. There they find a crew of people Starfleet has seemingly forgot, shunted to the edge of the galaxy... and also, a zombie-like "curse" that spreads rapidly to the visiting Cerritos personnel. As Mariner tries to get to the bottom of it, Freeman and Ransom are working elsewhere on the station to repair damaged systems.

Lower Decks always has great voice acting, but they really scored big with the guest stars this episode. First, the station commander, Kassia Nox, is played by Nicole Byer. Her unique comedy ability to deliver the darkest news with the brightest tone is perfect for the head of the dreaded Starbase 80. Second, the crafty-but-goofy engineer Gene Jakobowski is played by Stephen Root, who always squeezes every bit of juice out of every one of the countless small roles he's played in a decades-long career. These two would elevate any episode they were a part of.

But then, they get great material to work with too. The many quirks of Starbase 80 create a carnival-like atmosphere (of funhouse rooms and corn dogs, no less) against which the high-speed jokes typical of Lower Decks play hilariously. The nods to past Trek series were piled on thick this week too, from "the disease Geordi got in that one episode" to original series technology in every room to a lengthy callback to Enterprise's infamous decon gel.

Besides making me laugh a bunch (and smile even more), there were those Star Trek ideals buried in the heart of the episode. Commander Nox delivers the message to us with trademark Nicole-Byer-on-Nailed-It candor, giving love that doesn't feel "tough" or mean: Starfleet believes in second chances, and Starbase 80 is a place for second chances. It truly does explain how a place like Starbase 80 (or even the Cerritos itself, to some extent) can exist in the same Star Trek universe with the Enterprises. Everyone has a place.

I give "Starbase 80?!" an A-. It continues this great (sniff) final run for Star Trek: Lower Decks.

A Force to Be Reckoned With

I've now completed two of author Brandon Sanderson's many book series. After quite enjoying Skyward and, uh, rather not enjoying Mistborn, it felt like if I was going to try another Sanderson series, the best way to go might be away from high fantasy. So I came to Steelheart, book one of a series called The Reckoners.

This series is set in a dystopian version of our own world, where a handful of "Epic" people with superhero powers have somehow emerged. But they're anything but heroic. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and the Epics have carved up the world into fiefdoms where they rule tyrannically over the ashes of what remains of society. A resistance group called the Reckoners has devoted themselves to learning the weaknesses of Epics in order to assassinate them. A young man named David wants to join their ranks -- if he can find them. He wants their help, as he's set upon killing one of the most powerful Epics of all, Steelheart -- the one who killed his father.

Brandon Sanderson wrote this book five years before Skyward, and I wonder how much me coming to it in the opposite order colored my perception of it. They do have a lot of surface similarities. Our protagonist is a teenager on the cusp of adulthood, with an inflated sense of their own skills and a lot to learn about just how much they don't know. Both live in dystopian societies under the oppression of a seemingly indomitable force. Both develop romantic feelings with a person they initially butt heads with.

Mind you, these are all tropes of the genre at large, more than a matter of Sanderson repeating himself. And it's because this is probably the twentieth time I've encountered them in books, television, and movies -- not merely the second -- that I'm inclined to say that five years more experience writing helped Sanderson make Skyward a better book. I found the characterizations there to be more well-rounded, and the world-building more multi-layered, than what's here in Steelheart.

But Steelheart was by no means bad. Indeed, there are a number of welcome, even clever, subversions of the genre tropes within its pages. The obligatory Young Adult Fiction romantic subplot does not stay on the prescribed course. The eventual "humanization" of the implacable foe is indirect; the book exposes nuances about Epics in general without ever undermining the fundamental evilness of its titular villain. And the central hero, David -- in this first book of the trilogy, at least -- never really becomes the only person who can save the world; he isn't ever made "unique" or "special," remaining part of an effective team instead.

Also, this book about toppling a dystopia frequently emphasizes that you don't save the world simply by toppling one despot. Surely part of that is self-serving; this is book one of a trilogy, and Sanderson obviously needs to tee up the next books so they don't feel tacked on to an otherwise complete narrative. Still, there's some nuance here in the underlying message that many dystopian series don't get to until later books (if at all).

I'd give Steelheart a B+. I expect to rotate around to a few other things before circling back and trying Reckoners book two. But I do think I'll eventually be circling back.

Enterprise Flashback: Dear Doctor

In the first season of Enterprise, John Billingsley's portrayal as Phlox quickly emerged as one of the stronger elements of the show. But it was used in relative moderation until the mid-season episode "Dear Doctor."

In a series of letters, Doctor Phlox relates life on the Enterprise back to a former colleague on Earth. What begins as a somewhat mundane account of the day-to-day turns more dire when Enterprise arrives at a planet with two sentient species. The more dominant species is in decline due to a global pandemic, and the question of whether to help -- at the expense of the more oppressed species -- weighs heavily on Archer and his crew.

The classic "epistolary novel" -- a story told through written letters -- is such an enduring narrative convention that it persisted even into television. Many series have done their version. Star Trek: The Next Generation did a particularly memorable one in "Data's Day," and while that wasn't among the very best episodes of that series, I feel it does cast something of a shadow that any subsequent Star Trek needs to work to get clear of. Like "Data's Day," "Dear Doctor" benefits from focusing on the fan favorite "outsider" character of its series. And as I said in my intro, John Billingsley is a strong performer, who here rises to the occasion when put at the center of the episode.

The story features a strong moral dilemma, that's ultimately all about the Prime Directive even if the actual tenet of "non-interference" doesn't yet have a name in this prequel series. Is it right to allow nature to take its course when you have the power to intervene? Is it one thing to "intervene" for yourself and another to intervene for somebody else? When you begin to examine the entire realm of information that might inform your decision, how far do you take that inquiry? This episode does a good job of putting all that into question, while still making the fact that lives are at stake feel more centered in the drama.

If anything, it's possible that these elements of the episode play more strongly today than they did when this episode was brand new. Over 20+ years, people have grown more cognizant about oppression, and can sympathize more with the plight of the second alien species in this episode. But also, we've gone through a global pandemic of our own, making the situation that the first alien species faces feel more immediate and personal. (Indeed, it seems wild that none of the doctors on this planet are taking any kind of PPE precautions as they work with patients.)

And yet, this foundational Star Trek ethical construction has to share space in this episode with Phlox's letter-writing framing device. And for me, that simply does not work at all. Phlox makes his position abundantly clear to Archer in dialogue; we really don't gain much by having him pre-state it in a letter to a character we've never met. (Data, in his episode, at least wrote to someone we had.)

Moreover, there's simply too much "cutesy" information about Phlox in this episode. He eats bugs -- the same ones he feeds his menagerie of Sickbay critters. Like all dentists, he's determined to engage you in conversation while stuffing tools into your mouth so you can't talk. His culture is polyamorous, and he specifically is married. His species also hibernates. It's all fun stuff to put in a "learn more about Phlox" episode -- yet the breezy tone clashes with the serious A plot. Each half of this episode really strains against the fact that the other half has a different narrative agenda.

But Billingsley is good (as ever) as Phlox, and there are some fun moments for other characters too. The movie For Whom the Bell Tolls makes Trip cry. T'Pol hates getting dental work as much as anyone. That's if you like the lighter part of the episode. If you're here more for the heavier part, then you see Archer having to experience the "shoe on the other foot," as he comes to appreciate the position of the Vulcans, judging whether a species is ready to handle warp travel. But again -- these two aspects of the episode really aren't playing well off each other.

Other observations:

• Phlox actually has to hit a switch to turn on the lights in Sickbay; no voice commands. Technology is always outstripping writers' ability to conceive of what's possible, of course. And yet, I'm pretty sure motion-activated lights were a thing even when this episode was created.

• The aliens in this episode have met the Ferengi. Put a pin in that for later in the season.
  

• Hoshi talks to Phlox in his own language... and makes quite a few mistakes. Now sure, credit for this being like her 30th language when I'm not even fluent in a second. Still, I have to ask: is Denobulan an especially complicated language, or does Hoshi make this many mistakes in all the languages she speaks? 

I think there are two very good episodes here: an examination of the best character on the show, and a great moral parable. But stuffing them in one episode is not a peanut-butter-and-chocolate situation; the two things do not go well together. I think the two halves of "Dear Doctor" drag each other down a bit, rendering the whole a B.

Oh Boy

Boy Kills World is a wild action comedy released earlier this year, and now available on streaming. Set in a dystopian society, the story centers on "Boy," a deaf and mute man who is seeking revenge on the authoritarian family in charge, for the death of his own family when he was a child. He's been rigorously trained by a powerful Shaman, turning him into the sort of one-man wrecking crew that might just be able to get that revenge.

I knew going in that Boy Kills World was going to be a light-in-tone, but violent, action movie. I was perhaps surprised at how hard it leaned into both of those elements. The action is incredibly violent, and weirdly inspired in that regard. A memorable sequence features the use of a truly unusual weapon (you've never seen the like before), and it's a fight that will make you squirm. But that's only one dish in the buffet of gory deaths and brutal injuries this movie serves up.

As violent as it is, it's equally funny. This is an action-comedy, and it doesn't neglect that second part of the equation. Most of the humor comes from Boy's inner monologue, delivered to us in hilarious voice-over by H. Jon Benjamin, who animation fans will know from Archer, Bob's Burgers, and countless other places. Benjamin is the person you call when you want a voice that sounds badass, but who can undermine every bit of seriousness with winking comedy. I have to imagine they wrote this script with him in mind, and there was no "plan B" if they hadn't gotten him.

The movie blends these two disparate elements surprisingly well. In part, it's because that balancing act isn't overly drawn out. Video games are the in-story explanation for much of what we see, and so the movie is structured almost as a level by level fight through a cast of villains including Michelle Dockery, Famke Janssen, and Sharlto Copley. And it gets the job done in under two hours.

That said, they still manage to inject a little too much story in there. There's an "end of act two" twist that I'm not sure about. I can understand the instinct to make the move more than just a trifle, and the seeds are planted to justify what happens. All the same, I feel like everything that follows the twist simply isn't as entertaining as what came before. The comedy isn't as funny, the action isn't as clever, and the movie is starting to wear out its welcome before the credits roll.

Still, star Bill Skarsgård makes for an unexpectedly effective action hero (even more unexpectedly when paired with the voice of H. Jon Benjamin). I'd ultimately say that if you're in for a literally bloody good time, you'll probably enjoy Boy Kills World. I give it a B.

Prodigy: Brink

The sprint to the finish line of Star Trek: Prodigy season two continues with "Brink."

Voyager has been ordered back to headquarters, but the crew is reluctant to leave Asencia alone to continue building up her forces unchallenged. Gwyn suggests that the cadets be sent on a covert mission, off the Starfleet books. On that mission, they learn that two people are in need of rescue: Ilthuran and Wesley Crusher... and make the fateful decision to split up to try to save both.

I'd been waiting for multiple episodes to the get the context that this episode finally provides: the revelation that Wesley Crusher allowed himself to get captured on purpose as part of an elaborate plan to ultimately send the Protostar back in time. I think we needed this detail a lot sooner than this, as not only does it answer the question of how a Traveler could be imprisoned against his will, it helps explain the sudden elevation of Asencia as a galaxy-threatening villain.

Not that this episode had me thinking, "oh, this all makes complete sense now." Indeed, this was sort of the episode where I kind of gave up on trying to track the ongoing story. This episode introduces us to a second, non-evil version of Asencia, which I decidedly did not understand. Is she from the past? The future? An alternate reality? It probably doesn't matter; we've just reached the part of the story where Big Bad Villain with a Big Bad Plan must be stopped.

To that end, Wesley Crusher has offered the minimally helpful advice that the Protostar crew (and Ma'jel) have "got to stick together." The guy can see the future (or... I guess we're meant to assume from all the math scribbles that he's just really good at predicting it?), but he can't predict that a bunch of children might not take that advice in the literal way he'd intended it without more explicit directions. And so, his grand plan goes the way of most "let yourself get captured on purpose" plans in TV and movies go: not well.

However, I liked that this episode returned the kids to the center of the action. And I really like that their actions were quite smart for the entire episode. This was not a case of kids being kids, leading to jeopardy; I felt that they pretty much made all the right decisions all the way through the episode. (I don't hold their ignoring of Wesley's super-vague warning against them.) It was a good showing for Gwyn as leader, for Dal in following another leader, and for all the other characters in little moments where they got to use their best skills.

So, taken altogether, I'll give "Brink" a B-. We've definitely reached the customary "all is lost" moment of the story. Three more episodes left to put everything right.

Lower Decks: A Farewell to Farms

The latest episode of Star Trek: Lower Decks was the Klingon-centric "A Farewell to Farms."

Mariner tries to help her Klingon friend Ma'ah regain the captaincy he lost, using Boimler's extensive knowledge of obscure Klingon traditions. Meanwhile, the Cerritos hosts two esteemed scholar/food critics from the planet Klowahka, who focus their ire on Doctor Migleemo.

This has been a great season of Lower Decks already -- but this episode was my favorite of them so far. I have always tolerated Klingon episodes of Star Trek, finding them inherently a bit silly... and often bad when that silliness overwhelms the story. Lower Decks is a completely different context for a Klingon story, a place where being silly is the point. And so the show dives headfirst into Klingon tropes and invents a barrel load (of bloodwine, of course) of new ones.

Making sweet, soft Boimler the most enthusiastic fan of Klingon tradition was an inspired comedic choice. And having him team up with Mariner to game a system is a pairing that has worked time and again for the series. I could go on and on (tediously) about the moments that made me laugh out loud, but I have to give a few limited shout-outs: to the hilarious animation of our heroes getting painsticked, to the deep cut VCR game reference to "experience bIj," and to actually calling the most prominent feature of female Klingon armor a "boob window." This storyline of the episode went all out with the jokes.

But honestly, even if all that didn't have me laughing regularly, I'd have found the Migleemo "B plot" hilariously funny too. Just as Klingon society has for decades been built out in borderline cartoonish ways, so this episode built out Klowahkan society in... well, literally cartoonish ways. From viewing everything through the lens of food, to the amusing physical displays that accompany emotion, everything about these aliens was built for laughs. And all the details were perfect, from the idea of an amuse bouche as a last meal before prison, to the beak-like silverware a Klowahkan uses to eat.

No, there wasn't much of a story here. We got another tease about this season's "rift" Macguffin, and some sort of tacked-on morality about hiding your struggles when you could ask for help. (Lessons never go down as effectively when it's a guest character learning them.) I suppose an absolutely "best of the best" Lower Decks episode would have nailed those elements too.

And yet, I laughed a lot. That's not all Lower Decks can do, but I really couldn't ask for anything more from this episode. I give "A Farewell to Farms" an A.

Along Review

The prevailing wisdom about the Marvel Cinematic Universe on television is that everything started off with a bang with WandaVision, and then has been a parade of diminishing returns ever since. Personally, I was never that high on WandaVision, and have enjoyed several other series in the meantime (Hawkeye especially). But one part I did love about WandaVision was Kathryn Hahn. And I was all on board for her to take center stage as the title character of the spin-off, Agatha All Along.

This... mini-series (?) / first season of an ongoing series (?)... focused on witch Agatha Harkness embarking on a quest to regain her powers, bringing along a mysterious companion known only as "Teen," and a coven of other witches with their own emotional and supernatural baggage. Adventure -- and sometimes hilarity -- ensued.

Shockingly, despite this being a spin-off of another MCU property (that itself served as a sequel to other Marvel stories), I felt like the "required reading" of Agatha All Along was relatively low. And I found that wonderfully welcome at this convoluted point in the franchise's ongoing (and sometimes abandoned-midway through) story arcs. Agatha's a witch who has lost her powers, and wants them back. For at least half the run of the series, that's really all you need to know; not even the particulars of how she lost them feels all that important. And while Marvel's "it's all connected" ethos does assert itself more fully by the end of this nine episode run, this did feel like to me like one of the more "stand-alone" offerings in the MCU in quite some time. (At least, one of the only enjoyable ones.)

The writing of the series was clever as hell. For one thing, it presented twists that felt genuinely earned. More than once in the run of episodes, things were revealed that made you want to go back and watch the show again from the beginning -- because you recalled where you'd noticed some seeds planted earlier, and suspected that you'd spot even more if you were to go back looking for them.

But more importantly, the show used essentially every episode to give one character the spotlight (even as Agatha herself remained the gravitational center of the proceedings). This worked brilliantly because each of the characters was well-drawn, fascinating, and different. Every episode about a new character was a story I felt eager to see. Not only did I love seeing performers I knew doing great work -- people like Aubrey Plaza and Patti LuPone -- I enjoyed the work by performers I did not know well before this -- people like Sasheer Zamata and Ali Ahn. (And watching Joe Locke in something other than Heartstopper was both jarring and entertaining as well.)

Kathryn Hahn, handed a starring vehicle, came across like a star. Anyone who has seen her anywhere else in her long career would know that she excels at getting laughs, particularly when she's playing a prickly, strong-willed character as she does here. But over the course of Agatha All Along, Hahn is also called on to be dramatic and show real vulnerability. And often, she has to turn on a dime in the same scene. She is, simply, great throughout.

But... I unfortunately must agree with the prevailing wisdom I've seen about the show: it did not stick the landing. The first eight episodes of Agatha All Along are a triumph, among the best television of the year. And if you were to cut off that eighth episode a minute or two from the ending, I think you'd have a satisfying and complete story. But of course, nothing is "complete" in the Marvel Cinematic Universe; we have to leave open some possibility of bringing it back if it's successful, some tease for fans who read the original comics, some connective tissue.

Episode 9 is all of that. There is more great work from Kathryn Hahn in a series of flashback scenes -- but the audience has already gleaned the context that these scenes make explicit. And then the rest of the episode is a lengthy exposition dump that undermines parts of what you've watched so far in the season, followed by a long runway lining up the next "take-off" for these characters. It simply doesn't feel necessary to me; all of it could have been episode 1 of a prospective season 2, if indeed the story does continue. It isn't needed here.

I think that final episode takes down to a B+ a series I might have otherwise called an A-. But whether or not we're quibbling over which side of that line it should be on, I was pleasantly surprised by the show. I feel like it was a series that stretched the MCU tropes about as far as they're ever allowed to be stretched, absolutely knew what its strengths were and leaned into them... and had a hell of a catchy song from Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez to burrow into your brain.

Most of you who'd be reading this probably watched the show already. But in case you didn't -- check it out!

Lower Decks: The Best Exotic Nanite Hotel

Last week's episode of Star Trek: Lower Decks saw the Cerritos checking in at "The Best Exotic Nanite Hotel."

A vacation destination is beset by a growing infestation of nanites, which a Cerritos away team must find a way to eradicate. Mariner must figure out how to work on that team alongside Jennifer, her ex-girlfriend, who doesn't seem to understand the "ex" part of that. Meanwhile, Boimler joins Ransom and Billups on an undercover mission to recover a wayward admiral who seems to have abandoned his post.

This episode of Lower Decks turned the balance between comedy and "Star Trek morality" very much to the side of comedy -- and to great results. Mariner trying to get out of an awkward break-up conversation felt like a straight-up "live studio audience" sitcom plot... that nevertheless incorporated hijinks culminating in an attack from a rampaging (huge laugh for me as Mariner pauses to count the sides) icosahedron. Along the way, there were more good laughs as T'Lyn struggled to contain her decidedly non-Vulcan enthusiasm for the vibe tube stylings of an alien pop star.

Still, there was an undercurrent of something more serious here that I appreciated. When Mariner and Jennifer (Mannifer? Jenniner?) broke up last season, there was some grumbling in fan circles about an LGBT+ relationship being written out of the show. But I really like the way this episode circled back to address that. Queer people can break up, that can be a good thing (not tragic, as media so often portrays), and hell... they might even be better in navigating the emotions of an ending relationship than a straight couple. (Also, side note: they don't stop being queer just because they aren't in a relationship!)

While the Mariner storyline was serving up all kinds of deep cut Star Trek references from nanites to vibe tubes to Gallamites (we finally saw these infamous aliens with the transparent skulls!), it was the Boimler story serving up a classic Star Trek plot line. The "Starfleet person goes rogue, adopting the culture of a local planet" story is an absolute tentpole of the franchise, going back to the original series in the 1960s. But of course, it was the 1970s that brought us one of pop culture's best-known incarnations of the "going native" story, Apocalypse Now. And I love that Lower Decks mined comedy from overtly paying homage to that film.

Boimler may or may not have learned a lesson about assuming others' intentions toward you. He certainly struggled in his continued attempts to grow a beard. (Oh my God... am I Boimler?) Add in the best "Boimler scream" ever, plus fun jokes about needing recreation in a society where you can kind of do whatever you want, and I found this subplot to be just as satisfying as the main one. (Also, we seem to have learned what the major story arc of the season will be, as the quantum fissures of the season premiere made a surprise return as the true cause of the "nanite" infestation.)

This episode was an A- for me. So far, it looks like Lower Decks is having a strong final (sniff) season.

My Favorite Take

This blog is going to go back to "business as usual." Tomorrow. I felt like I couldn't just jump right back into my normal thing without first saying something about why I'm choosing to do that.

In my copious doomscrolling of the last 36-or-so hours, I've come upon hundreds of takes about the results of the U.S. presidential election. One in particular has resonated with me above all others:

There were no winners. We all lost. It's just that some of us aren't going to understand that until later.

The more I think about this, the more impressed I become about just how much is packed into that punchy summation.

The thing that really resonated with me on first blush is the whole "forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing" tone of it. I have always felt that non-evangelicals and atheists understand and demonstrate Christian values more than the performative evangelical crowd. I believe that most voters did not cast their vote as a personal "fuck you" to me. (Though side note -- here in Colorado is evidence of around 921,000 losers who very much did.) A lot of voters, and absolutely a lot of non-voters, "knew not what they were doing."

There's clear proof of that in the results. Montana and Missouri passed ballot measures they think will protect abortion access, even as they elected a president almost certain to curtail it at a superseding federal level. North Carolina voters rather emphatically rejected a candidate for governor who clearly did not align with their values... while choosing for president a candidate who espoused all the same values of (and who explicitly endorsed) the reject. It seems to me that any split-ticket voters in these states "knew not what they were doing."

But back to the take:

There were no winners. We all lost. It's just that some of us aren't going to understand that until later.

As I pondered that even more, a new layer hit me -- one I'm really going to strive to embrace. Later. That word is carrying a lot of weight.

For one thing, nothing I say (no matter how long I might spend laboring on exactly how to say it) is going to change anyone's mind now. People are going to have to come to the realization of what has happened later. We've "fucked around." It's not time yet to "find out."

I believe that so much damage is about to be dealt to the United States that I question whether it can even be repaired within my lifetime. But... it's happening later. As in, literally, not today. For my own mental health (if nothing else), I think I must choose to squeeze every bit of joy out of the two-and-a-half months we still have before our newly-reelected, self-described "dictator on day one" takes office. There are going to be enough bad days to come without me giving potentially good days I have right now over to dread.

And so, to the best of my ability, I am choosing not to. Business as usual (for now, at least).

As for later, we'll all see.

Yes We (Vati)Can

This weekend, I went to see the newest movie starring Ralph Fiennes, Conclave. The movie centers on the election of a new pope, as one cardinal must oversee the proceedings while balancing ritual, propriety, and his own wishes.

The studio marketing team knew what they were doing when they made sure this film was in theaters ahead of the United States presidential election. This is a political thriller, through and through. It mines all the tension you'd expect from backroom conversations, shrewd manipulations, and words wielded as weapons. And while it's not like there are tons of political thrillers out there, there are still enough for me to really appreciate how this movie refreshes the genre with its different setting. Putting these familiar machinations inside the Catholic church simultaneously makes them feel novel and different -- and subtly makes the point that it is ever thus.

There's a great cast here, headlined by Ralph Fiennes as I said, but also including Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow, and Isabella Rossellini. These are all performers who don't have to raise their voice to convey an intensity of emotion, and all of them heighten the tension of the story by how constrained they all behave. Rossellini in particular is a valuable addition here; in a movie that inherently will come nowhere close to passing the Bechdel test, you need to be certain you've cast a powerhouse performer in the one significant female role. The film gets that with her.

Of course, thrillers (political or otherwise) often rely on twists, and so you go in expecting Conclave to have its share. One of them, the question of who ultimately will win the election and become pope, is pretty loudly telegraphed from far out. (At least, it felt that way to me. I think any audience familiar with how these sorts of plots tend to work will sniff it out.) Despite knowing that element of the ending, I didn't feel less enjoyment from the events along the way.

But Conclave has one more twist up its sleeve, and I'm much more conflicted about it. The movie does "earn" the twist; it is very much in keeping with the values espoused throughout the story, most centrally by Fiennes' main character. But it also feels so far-fetched, in terms of what could plausibly happen in a setting that has otherwise been hyper-realistic. I suppose the story is embracing an element of fantasy here, even wish fulfillment. This isn't a documentary, and never pretended to be... so if it gets a bit fanciful at the end? Maybe that's ok if it's in service of a good message as it is here.

I would give Conclave a B. I'd heard some small buzz that it might be in the mix for the next Academy Awards. I feel like it won't be terribly competitive if it is... and yet it's a far more active and approachable film than a lot of Oscar fare. I enjoyed it overall; perhaps you might too.

Lower Decks: Shades of Green

The final season of Star Trek: Lower Decks kicked off with two episodes, the second of which is called "Shades of Green."

When the Cerritos visits a planet with a society converting to post-scarcity, away teams are sent to help the inhabitants tear down the vestiges of capitalism. Boimler is behaving differently, believing it might be the key to jump start his career. On the ship, Rutherford is less chipper than normal without Tendi around. Meanwhile, on the Orion homeworld, Tendi's family is drawn into a struggle for its continued existence... as Tendi learns that her sister is pregnant.

With the season five premiere so masterfully balancing comedy and introspection, a half-dozen character story lines, and a bucket of obscure Star Trek jokes... it was kind of inevitable that the next episode might not reach the same heights. "Shades of Green" is still a good episode with all the same elements that make for the best Lower Decks installments; it just isn't as deft in balancing it all in a perfect "meal."

A lot of the best comedy here is pretty subtle. Star Trek has always been set in a "post-scarcity" society, where everyone's needs are satisfied by a replicator or socialist ideals. How a society gets there has always understandably been waved away. By focusing on this moment of changing over for some random alien planet, Lower Decks gets to present a lot of jokes (mostly sight gags) about the end of capitalism.

It's against this background that we get a subtle story about Boimler learning he has to be true to himself (and not to the thing he perceives as a "how to succeed" manual that he stole from his doppelganger in the previous episode). Still less subtle is a nice subplot about Rutherford, wallowing in his feelings about losing his best friend. To be clear, his "wallowing" looks like many other people's best day, in terms of keeping a positive attitude. Which makes it all the more remarkable (fascinating?) that T'Lyn is able to pick up on this and react appropriately. Vulcans don't tend to be emotionally intelligent (and I've been watching a lot of Enterprise lately, where they're portrayed as especially dim in this regard), so it's refreshing to see a Vulcan character who gets it.

Meanwhile, Tendi spends the episode inside a 1980s sitcom. That's what the "D'Erika doesn't know that D'Vana knows that she's pregnant" plot feels like. You know that sitcom way in which one question would puncture the whole premise, but no one asks it? That way that someone behaves so outrageously that everyone around them ought to notice, but no one says anything? It's not only the stuff of 80s sitcoms, but cartoons, of course. So it doesn't feel too out of place here, even though it isn't my favorite element of the episode.

Still, this subplot does contribute other things I like. Star Trek has done "solar sailing ships" before and "stellar racing" before; the way both are incorporated here sort of feels like a chocolate and peanut butter thing that "just tastes great together." And I love that the writers aren't going to stretch the taffy any longer about Tendi being separated from the Cerritos. We got a few episodes out of it, and now we're going to put the crew all back together for the too-few episodes of the series we have left.

I give "Shades of Green" a B. It wasn't a favorite of mine, but it did at least set the stage for the rest of the season.

Time Slipping Away

I am sure you have too many shows in your television diet to make room for a recent single-season show that was canceled on a cliffhanger. And yet, I feel compelled to say a few words in praise of Time Bandits.

Streaming on Apple TV+, Time Bandits is a series re-imagination of early 80s film written by Terry Gilliam and Michael Palin. It's about a young British kid who falls in with a band of utterly inept thieves who bounce around time looking to steal valuable loot. They brush up against historical figures while trying to avoid the agents of the Supreme Being and Pure Evil, both of whom want the magical map they use to move through time portals.

It's been a long while since I've seen the original movie. I imagine it will be heretical to many for me to say this, but I don't remember it being particularly good. And more heretical still to say that my comic sensibilities don't really overlap much with Monty Python. But they do tend to overlap with the sensibilities of Jemaine Clement and Taika Waititi, creators of What We Do in the Shadows and Wellington Paranormal. Here, they've teamed with Iain Morris to put their own spin on the Time Bandits premise. And if you like either of those other two shows, I feel confident you will enjoy Time Bandits.

But perhaps the real secret sauce of this TV series is its main star, Lisa Kudrow. She plays Penelope, the leader ("but really, we have no leaders") of the bandits -- and her comic skills and timing make everything about this show measurably funnier. Friends fans: imagine a character as flighty and scattered as Phoebe, but give her a massive ego and exaggerated self-confidence. That's Penelope. And she's hilarious. (Really, the whole cast is solid. But Lisa Kudrow is next level.)

Over the course of 10 episodes, you quickly come to understand how Time Bandits was canceled. It looks like a preposterously expensive show to make. There's constant jumping into new time frames, requiring new sets, guest actors, and costumes. And this isn't Doctor Who style time travel, where most things can look like someplace within a short drive of London. The Time Bandits visit the Prohibition-era United States, the African desert, the Mayan Empire, and the Ice Age, among other stops. Time Bandits surely would have needed an off-the-charts viewership to justify these costs. And given that Apple TV+ has already announced the cancellation of the show after one season, it's clear they didn't get that.

I'll be direct: the show ends on a cliffhanger (that will now never be resolved). But personally, I find it light enough to not be too upset by that. After 10 episodes of watching these characters bumble their way out of any crisis they bumble into, I really don't need to know the particulars of how they get out of this last one. I think I can just appreciate that I got 10 half-hour episodes that made me laugh. Maybe they want to make me try the original movie again some time, even. (But What We Do in the Shadows made for a far better TV series than a movie; why can't it be the same for Time Bandits?)

I give Time Bandits a B+. It may not stand the test of time, I suppose (ha!), but I think many people reading this would find it fun.

Prodigy: Ascension, Part II

I last left Star Trek: Prodigy right in the middle of a two-part episode. So even though Lower Decks premiered with two episodes this week, I feel compelled to circle back and pick up "Ascension, Part II."

The showdown against Acensia's massive warship continues. Voyager is critically damaged -- but the Protostar is still in action, as is a fighter squadron with Dal and Ma'jel. To save everyone, one of our heroes must make a major sacrifice.

I had been hoping for some answers in the second part of this episode: where did Acensia get all these wonderful toys, and how did she capture Wesley Crusher? Nope. This episode is really just the second half of a more traditional one-hour episode of Star Trek. Though it is an especially cinematic one, with loads of big space combat action.

But the action is more tailored to the characters in this second part, which I found to be an improvement over part one. The fighter squadron subplot allows room for two big character moments. Dal gets to show his doubtful fellow pilots that his more instinctual brand of wild flying has its merits. And Ma'jel actually adopts those methods, in a moment where she finds the limits of pure Vulcan-style logic and is able to think outside the box.

Everything builds to a big hero moment for Zero. On the one hand, Zero has made sacrifices a few times already this season, arguably undermining the impact of this moment now. But on the other, everything leading up to this has demanded less of Zero than now. This is the moment where they actually must choose to sacrifice their corporeal body to save everyone. Intellectually, it feels like an easy choice -- and Zero being such an intellectual character, of course that's the choice they're going to make. Still, Zero is giving up a lot, and I think the show makes the emotional weight of this clear.

The battle may be over, but there are still a few episodes left -- and Acensia is not yet defeated. So I'll give "Ascension, Part II" a B-, and continue the march to the end of the season.

Night of 1,000 Laughs?

Saturday Night Live has been running 49 years. It's been the subject of countless retrospectives and documentaries, and has spun off dozens of feature films. But now there's a feature film about it --  specifically, the 90 minutes leading up to the very first episode in 1975. Recorded, on my blog, it's Saturday Night!

I don't know exactly what I was hoping for out of this movie, but in retrospect, I was certainly kidding myself if I expected it to be anything other than the frenetic sprint it was. That isn't inherently a bad thing. If you recall Aaron Sorkin's single-season television show Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, this feels like the vibe he was trying to capture: all of the pressure cooker action of the West Wing, in an environment of entirely different stakes. Loads of rapid-fire dialogue, punctuated by purposefully lowbrow moments of physical comedy. If you like this style of entertainment, Saturday Night is very faithfully working within the style.

But don't hope to scratch beneath the surface of anything here. Outside of the central figure of Lorne Michaels (and to a lesser extent, writer Rosie Shuster -- also Michaels' wife), each person gets perhaps 5 minutes of total screen time sprinkled throughout the movie. That's because between all the actors, producers, writers, executives, and guest stars, there are simply too many characters in this story to service with any meaningful personal arc. The story can only be "the chaos." 

To heighten that story, the movie condenses everything. Much of what is presented is based on real events (though some of it is only loosely inspired by them). Yet events that actually unfolded over months or even years are all crushed into the 90 minutes before the original Saturday Night Live premiere. I don't say this to claim that this movie should have been more realistic, but rather to say that you will know it isn't. No, it's not meant to be a documentary -- but it sometimes feels like it's going so far over the top that it's gilding the lily.

Still, the sprawling cast made me enjoy it most of the way. There are lots of fun renditions of celebrities we know well -- not quite impersonations, but performances that do feel like they capture the essence of the person: Cory Michael Smith as Chevy Chase, Dylan O'Brien as Dan Aykroyd, Matthew Rhys as George Carlin, and J. K. Simmons as Milton Berle. Other performers are making the most of their precious moments on screen, like Rachel Sennott as Rosie Shuster, Willem Dafoe as David Tebet, Jon Batiste as Billy Preston, and Nicholas Braun as both Andy Kaufman and Jim Henson. And Gabriel LaBelle is a good "ringmaster" of it all as Lorne Michaels.

But ultimately, Saturday Night feels like it's going to be much like a typical episode of Saturday Night Live, not one of the landmark episodes like the premiere it dramatized. You might enjoy it while you're watching, and have a few laughs. But it isn't likely to have any staying power, or to be thought of much in the future. I give it a B-.

Lower Decks: Dos Cerritos

Star Trek: Lower Decks is back for its (inexplicably) final season. And even though many fans are still enjoying the 20 episodes of Star Trek: Prodigy that were dropped by Netflix all at once, we get a double dose of Lower Decks to kick things off. First up is "Dos Cerritos."

The Cerritos passes through a spatial anomaly into an alternate universe, where crewmembers interact with versions of themselves whose different choices make them question their own. Mariner faces a version of herself who captains the ship. Boimler sees a version of himself whose achievements seem to be keeping up with his ambitions. Rutherford meets a version of himself who has more deeply embraced mechnical implants. And T'Lyn meets an alternate who says "remarkable" instead of "fascinating!" Meanwhile, Tendi tries to honor her pledge to Orion piracy without compromising her core Starfleet ideals.

It is remarkable/fascinating to me how well Lower Decks continues to concoct its episodes. They almost always manage to tell a "Star Trek" story (complete with moral) and keep jokes flowing at a fire hose pace. This time, the characters have to reckon with "the road not taken," using the tried-and-true Star Trek gimmick of an alternate universe. (And thank goodness, not the Mirror Universe again.)

While everything is presented in a light and humorous framework, there are legitimate crises of identity being expressed here. Rutherford is going through emotional pain and gets to learn whether taking it away really would be better. Boimler deals with a near-universal question about wondering whether he has achieved enough with his time in this universe. Mariner is at a crossroads where she fears slipping back into bad habits, wanting to make different choices this time. And Captain "Becky Freeman" has decided the grass is greener on the other side of the rift. (Even in the "B plot," Tendi is trying to stay true to herself in unusual circumstances.) That all of this fits comfortably in 24 minutes is impressive. That it's funny at the same time is miraculous.

While some alternate (prime?) universe doppelgangers have big, clear differences from our heroes, I enjoy the fun in the more subtle changes -- Ransom's mullet, Boimler's beard (but not a goatee; that would mean he's evil), the slightly darker uniforms, and so on. And speaking of differences, that battle sequence in the opening credits keeps getting freighted with more and and more action; this season, perhaps knowing it was to be the last, they dumped out the toy box and added V'Ger, Tholians, and Apollo.

The Tendi subplot was an equally skillful balance of character and comedy. I appreciate that her sister D'Erika is not simply an unreasonable baddie poised to hold Tendi hostage (and separated from the other main characters) for half the season. D'Erika and D'Vana are sisters, and Lower Decks really is committed to showing that this can be a complicated relationship. Also, it's committed to the deepest of deep cut jokes, bringing back the blue-skinned "Or-ee-ONS" of the original Star Trek: Animated Series to exist alongside the more familiar (to everyone except, apparently, the makers of the original Animated Series) green-skinned Orions.

Lower Decks shows absolutely no signs of running out of steam. And as an animated show, it could run for years and years, longer than any other Star Trek series. It is frustrating to know that behind-the-scenes issues about streaming services, corporate buyouts, and tax loopholes are likely the real reason why the show is ending this season. Still, I'll enjoy what's left while I have it. I give "Dos Cerritos" an A-.

Enterprise Flashback: Silent Enemy

By halfway through the first season of Enterprise, each of the seven main characters had had at least one episode centered on them... except one: Malcolm Reed. Then, with "Silent Enemy," the writers made the unusual decision to create an episode all about how nobody actually knows anything about Malcolm Reed.

When Enterprise encounters a mysteries species that turns out to be hostile, Archer faces a return back home for a weapons upgrade before continuing the mission of exploration. But in quieter moments between alien encounters, Hoshi Sato is at work on a special assignment from the captain. Malcolm Reed's birthday is approaching, and Archer wants to acknowledge him by having chef prepare his favorite food... if only they knew what that was.

There's no getting around it: this episode is pretty terrible for all the characters. The writers are hanging a lantern on the fact that they haven't bothered to flesh out one of their characters, and it feels like an elaborate punking of actor Dominic Keating. This is finally "his episode," you'd think, but he's actually not in it much. This is the moment we'll learn about Reed, but by the end we only know that he's secretive and reclusive, has allergies, and likes pineapple.

All the other information we pick up in the episode is about other people in Reed's past. He comes from a family of Navy men. (What would the Navy even be like in the future of a unified Earth? What would be the point?) He has a sister and two living parents, and a former Starfleet Academy roommate, all of whom profess not to know anything about him.

We get quite a bit of other characters in this episode, but none of them come off looking especially good either. Phlox basically violates doctor/patient confidentiality to help Hoshi. Trip had a girlfriend, we learn, but the long distance relationship didn't work out. T'Pol once again gives great advice that no one wants to listen to -- if you want to know about Malcolm Reed, ask him. Hoshi is so awkward in her sleuthing that she's mistaken by Reed for having a romantic interest.

Not that that last one is really Hoshi's fault, because Archer set her on this "mission." His behavior in this episode is most chaotic of all. At a time when Hoshi is trying to configure communications relays so that everyone can talk to loved ones back home, Archer has her drop everything to plan a surprise birthday party for Reed. (Even if this is a priority, literally anyone else would be less crucial right now to task with that.) When Enterprise comes up against a superior enemy, Archer refuses the  suggestion to ask the Vulcans for help, for no discernible reason other than straight-up racism.

And yet, as bad as this episode feels for all the characters, it feels equally and oppositely good in its "A plot" centered on the mysterious aliens. These unnamed adversaries are one of the creepier things Enterprise has done to this point, and their behavior feels genuinely alien and unknowable. What makes them escalate from observation to aggression? What was their shrill, static-filled transmission -- a threat or an unanswered greeting? (Or something else?)

When the aliens ultimately board Enterprise, we get a long, suspenseful sequence with dark lighting, well composed music, and very little dialogue. The aliens are CG, allowing a look that's a step or two distant from "human actor in makeup." Their attack leaves people comatose, arguably even scarier than if the victims had been killed outright. When they return yet again near the end of the episode, it's with a taunt stitched together of Archer's own words, like a ransom note cut from magazines. In short, I'm really into everything about these aliens. (Even if their ship, being green, kind of reads like "Romulan" early on.)

Other observation:

• Archer at one point refers to "Mount McKinley." In the time since the episode was made, the mountain's name has reverted to what it was always known as by the indigenous population: Denali.

I really feel like they did Reed (and everyone else) dirty in this episode. But they also managed to present a truly alien race, and build genuine tension and suspense. (And if I recall correctly, these aliens never recur, so this menace is never later undermined.) In all, I'll give "Silent Enemy" a B-.

Prodigy: Ascension, Part I

Star Trek: Prodigy headed into the final act of its season two story with another two-part episode. First up, "Ascension, Part I."

Reunions have come at last -- Janeway and Chakotay, Voyager and the Protostar. But it's not all happy. The ships have been ordered back to Starfleet Command for a sure-to-be-contentious debriefing. The timeline is still damaged. And now, Asencia has somehow taken control over her planet using advanced technology, and threatens our heroes with a massive warship.

If you rewind back to the very beginning of the season, Asencia was the main villain of the story, wresting control of the planet Solum before Gwyn could persuade them to follow a more peaceful path. I thought all of that played well. But now, escalating her into a menace that threatens all of Starfleet (and really, all of reality)? I just can't traverse the distance between A and B.

Part of it is that Asencia's vendetta with Starfleet doesn't make a lot of sense to me. There has been some track laid here going back to season one, stemming from the Diviner's hatred of Starfleet and blaming them for... something. But Asencia's anger feels greater and more particular, without (that I recall) us ever getting a real explanation why. If she hates Starfleet this much, could she even stay undercover with them for long without giving herself away? Did Starfleet values not rub off on her in any way? This might all be stuff beyond the scope of a half-hour kids' show to explain, but the absence of it just leaves Asencia a generic mustache-twirling villain.

How exactly she wields so much power is inexplicable too. By the end of the episode, you get a hint of how this might be -- she has captured Wesley Crusher, and perhaps she has extracted some sort of advanced temporal knowledge from him. Though there's a bit of a paradox implied here too. How did she get advanced technology that would allow her to capture Wesley in the first place to then extract advanced technology? Perhaps future episodes will address this (this is, after all, part one of two)... but leaving this unanswered for so long, combined with her already generic villainy, really just feels like it's asking a lot of the audience. Asencia's just the Big Bad now. Go with it.

I suppose at least Asencia does twirl good mustache. Jameela Jamil certainly leans into the vocal performance, relishing all the eeeeevill dialogue and claiming a worthy star in the constellation of Big Bads with powerful ships. (Chang from Star Trek VI looms large; Shinzon from Nemesis is a far dimmer star easily outshone here.) And certainly, Prodigy takes full advantage of its format, serving up nearly 20 solid minutes of action featuring two starships, a squadron of fighters, and all the wild maneuvering you could ever ask for.

But I found it all kind of aimless, and I'm really hoping for more out of part two. I give "Ascension, Part I" a C+.

From Summer to Fall

Now that we're in the final months of 2024, lots of movies I missed in the theater earlier in the year are starting to pop up on various streaming services. I remember during the brief theatrical run of The Fall Guy, the popular consensus seemed to be: "Why is no one going to see this? It's fun and good." But like most people, apparently, I did miss it at the time. Now that I've caught up, I can agree: it's fun and good.

Loosely based on the 1980s TV show of the same name, The Fall Guy follows stuntman Colt Seavers on a wild adventure in Australia. His ex is directing her first major movie, but her star has quietly vanished without a trace. Colt is brought in by the producer to track him down and bring him back to set before the multi-million dollar shoot is derailed.

...not that the plot matters all that much. This movie "understands the assignment," and it is two-fold. One, because the movie's main character is a stunt performer, the movie needs to have some incredible stunts. Two, because The Fall Guy aims to be a "four quadrant movie," the bickering romance between the two leads has to generate sparks. Everything else is incidental.

To the second point first, by casting Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt as the leads, the movie skillfully checks the box. Both actors have plenty of action movies under their belts, and both have played romances on film as well. Asking them to bring both to one movie is straightforward enough. Of course, Hollywood has given us countless rom-coms where two individually appealing actors have zero chemistry with each other... but fortunately, this is not one of them. This movie calls for the two to bicker with one another more than canoodle, but the relationship feels real all the same.

That's critical, because very little about the rest of the movie is meant to feel real. Ultimately, The Fall Guy is a patchwork quilt of wild stunts, but it works because each stunt works. You get car chases, fire gags, motorcycle gags, an extended sequence with a helicopter, fist fights, and everything in between.

It may be that The Fall Guy is just as much a "big dumb action movie" as other action movies I've accused of being too dumb. Maybe I just enjoyed the way that insider humor about movie-making is used as a glue to join all the disparate set pieces together. For whatever reason, I found it to be a fun, breezy watch that fully met its modest goals. (If millions of dollars of high-powered stunts can be called "modest.")

I give The Fall Guy a B+. I'll admit, it's a real cotton candy of a B+, that will evaporate from my brain and probably be completely forgotten at some point. But it's delicious while you're consuming it.