Hello There!

The spinoff/prequel/sequel series Obi-Wan Kenobi has finished up its six-episode run on Disney+. In my personal corner of social media, the response seems to be generally (though not enthusiastically) positive. In the broader world of social media, it feels like a broken pipe is endlessly spewing sewage. Put me down, unsurprisingly, for something more like the first response.

It feels pretty clear to me that these six episodes serve as a far better prequel to Star Wars than the actual prequel film trilogy did. It's more grounded in characters (who don't behave woodenly), and it's more cognizant of trying to lead up to the original (as opposed to simply "rhyming" with it -- George Lucas' oft-cited term for repackaging his own earlier ideas). Of course, the paradox is that this series wouldn't hit as strongly had we not already seen Ewan McGregor play the role of Kenobi. I can't claim that this in any way supplants the prequel trilogy; it's just better.

Of course, it isn't without its flaws. Some of the character behavior is a little hard to square without just falling back on "people can be complicated and inconsistent." (True, but not usually a winning defense of fiction.) Increasingly in the later episodes, characters act in ways that don't seem to fit with the previous episodes -- instead, they're made to fit with what must be true because of where Star Wars begins. (To get slightly spoilery about the final episode: the theme of "mercy" seems big at the end, but not very organically incorporated.)

But there's a lot more good than bad in the series. There was surprising fun in seeing many actors return to Star Wars when you probably thought you'd seen them there for the last time. There was even more fun in seeing many things appear in live-action Star Wars for the first time (especially if you've watched the Star Wars cartoon series).

There were several compelling new characters that resonated with me despite limited screen time. Kumail Nanjiani and Indira Varma felt like especially strong additions to the Star Wars universe, and Moses Ingram did a good job as the Third Sister -- a role that was almost written to fail with its big emotional swings.

The shining jewel of the whole experience for me, the reason to have done Obi-Wan Kenobi the series? Princess Leia, as played by Vivien Lyra Blair. I saw a bit of whining about the character online, essentially stemming from overlooking the fact that Leia is ten years old here. In my eyes, the portrayal was an absolute triumph in both writing and acting. Basically every single moment felt like the Leia I've seen before, and often Carrie Fisher in particular. This little girl absolutely becomes the Leia of Star Wars.

I didn't need Obi-Wan Kenobi to be completely great, so maybe that's part of why I'm ok that it wasn't. (Hopefully, it's also because I'm not a toxic fan.) I give the series overall a B. Stronger by far than The Book of Boba Fett, probably not as strong as The Mandalorian when it's really firing, but worth the time.

Better? Yeah, It Might Be!

It's not exactly a hot take to praise Breaking Bad as one of television's best series. But perhaps it's at least "warm" to suggest that its prequel spinoff, Better Call Saul, might actually be better.

Better Call Saul is currently on a mid-season hiatus, halfway through its sixth and final season. When it started back in 2015, it was definitely a dessert for those of us who weren't quite ready to be finished with the fine meal of Breaking Bad. It was fun to see the further (earlier) adventures of some of the characters we enjoyed so much from the flagship series, but "fun" was pretty much all it was in season one. The drama felt rather low stakes, and the moral grey areas it explored were "shades of white."

But even in that first season, Better Call Saul didn't feel "slow" so much as "methodical." And that careful pace turned out to be one of the best things about the show. In both its season-long story arcs and the plot threads of individual episodes, Better Call Saul is so deliberate about what it's doing... which, ultimately, was to redraw existing stars into a whole new constellation. The show may have started as all prequels do, prodding the audience to take more interest in two or three known characters whose backgrounds we didn't really need to know more about -- but it pulled off two amazing magic tricks along the way.

First, it turns out that we actually did need to know more about the returning characters of Breaking Bad. You might have imagined that Vince Gilligan and his writers really said all they had to say on "slowing sliding into evil" with Walter White, but Better Call Saul unveils three compelling back stories for three other BB characters. Best of all, these arcs each feel organic -- neither afraid to sometimes be exactly what viewers would expect, nor always forced to be surprising just to thwart those expectations.

Second, Better Call Saul introduces a host of new characters with journeys of their own -- and in my view, those turn out to be even more compelling than those of the Breaking Bad "transplants." There are at least four new characters on the spinoff series who have their own important tale to be told, and the writers have used them brilliantly to generate tension that most prequels don't have. The prequel problem, in a nutshell, is that you know exactly where characters are going to end up, and that ultimately deflates the stakes of the story. With so many BCS characters having unknown fates, the audience is unsettled all over again. Even the knowledge that "they weren't in Breaking Bad, so something terrible must happen to them" isn't sufficient to inure you to the twists and turns in their tales.

The craft of Better Call Saul is as good at the micro level as it is at the macro level. Television is sometimes called "radio with faces," and while the age of visual effects has moved the needle on that, this series challenges it in a way that has nothing to do with CG. I don't think there's another show on television that tells its stories as visually as Better Call Saul. Almost every episode has long scenes with no dialogue at all. The series defies "watching while on your cell phone," demanding your focus -- and rewarding that focus. You see characters take time to think, and understand what they're thinking. Exposition is often omitted; you'll have to watch a scene unfold (or sometimes even a whole episode) to catch up with the context. The writers are smart, and they assume the audience is too.

In six seasons, spread out over 7 years, yes, there have been some stumbles. (A season-long arc explaining the origin of a secret underground meth lab from Breaking Bad was compelling only at its character-centric conclusion.) But generally, each new crop of Better Call Saul episodes has been more compelling than the last -- especially the 7-episode "half season" that ran just weeks ago. I'm eagerly awaiting the final 6 in mid-July.

Breaking Bad was famously a series that "stuck the landing" with a great series finale. (At a time when many other long-running series were perceived to have blown it.) If lightning can strike twice with the finale of Better Call Saul, I truly believe the show will be seen as equal or greater than the series that spawned it. I give Better Call Saul an enthusiastic A.

Voyager Flashback: Nemesis

Though Star Trek was about seeking out "new life and new civilizations," the franchise routinely discovered very human "aliens" who speak pretty much exactly like us. The reasons are obvious, of course. But occasionally, the writers would push a little further outside the norm for an episode. In Voyager's "Nemesis," this involved the creation of a unique and heightened language for the aliens of the week, the Vori.

Chakotay's shuttle crashes in a war zone, and he is taken in by a group of Vori soldiers. The more time he spends with the group, the more his sympathies with them develops. He learns of their evil enemy, the Kradin: the horrors they visit upon the Vori, and their campaign of extermination and desecration. His Starfleet ideals gradually give way to a sense of common cause.

The core idea of this episode could not be more "Star Trek." Making social commentary on the evils of propaganda, demonstrating how each side of a war can be made to believe lies about the other -- this kind of critique is Star Trek's bread and butter. There are also at least two fun and rather well-executed twists in this episode too: the reveal that Chakotay and his shipmates have each fallen in with opposite sides of the war, and the revelation that nothing Chakotay has experienced really happened (but was instead an elaborate indoctrination scenario).

Unfortunately, I think that's about all this episode has going for it. The execution hits me so wrong that were it not for those elements, it would easily be the worst episode of Voyager to this point.

The pacing of the episode is glacial. Despite there being plenty of action sequences, it feels slow. A long teaser shows people running around in a jungle set, and it takes a long time for them to show that it's Chakotay being chased. We're halfway through the episode before any main character other than Chakotay is shown. A platoon of unmemorable guest stars lean on Vietnam movie tropes for any sense of personality. (Could these soldiers not have included some women in their ranks to give us something a little different?)

And that's not the only thing that feels borrowed in this episode. The look of the Kradin aliens, specifically in this jungle environment, can only make you think "Predator." Withholding the bulk of the main characters for so long makes it feel more like a Twilight Zone episode than Star Trek. (From a modern standpoint, I'd say it feels like Black Mirror.)

Then there's dialogue spoken by these Vori. I gather it works for some viewers. It really doesn't work at all for me. It's basically a "find-replace" function in which words are replaced with the most awkward synonym that the thesaurus says still is a synonym. Fathom, glimpse, clash, sphere, fast-walk. It's impossible to speak this way without it coming off as over-the-top melodrama -- assuming it isn't just unintentionally funny. ("I was told to drill you, Chakotay, but it's you who drilled me.") The dialogue is cheesy as a baseline, and it only gets worse as Chakotay begins to adopt the dialect as his own. I get what it's supposed to be showing: he's slowly coming around to their way of thinking. But him barking "motherless beast" as he tackles an alien is an eye-roll moment.

Other observations:

• For the third episode in a row, we lose another shuttlecraft. Let's not even pretend this is a limited resource for Voyager anymore.

• This episode is the only one, after Jeri Ryan joins the regular cast, in which Seven of Nine does not appear. This episode was in fact filmed before "Day of Honor," but was bumped later so that the new character could be featured more before getting a week off.
  

The parable about hatred at the core of this episode is a good foundation. But if it weren't for the clever twists near the end, all you'd have here would be basically unwatchable to me. Because this episode does snatch something sort of like "victory" from the jaws of "defeat," I'll give it a C-. But it's a C- that was very nearly an F, if that makes any sense.

Looking Skyward Once Again

Several times now, I've written in praise of the Skyward series by Brandon Sanderson. I've also written about an offshoot novella co-written by Janci Patterson, Sunreach. That novella is just the first in a series of its own, a trilogy I continued with ReDawn.

ReDawn continues the story of the people of the planet Detritus (happening in parallel as Skyward's protagonist Spensa is away on her own adventure). This story focuses on alien Alanik, who finds herself turning to help from the humans when the political landscape on her own planet begins to crumble. Spycraft, ship combat, mutiny, and psionics ensue.

It seems increasingly common to me that authors write novellas and short stories sprinkled around the official books in their long-running series. But the ones I've encountered always seem "optional" to me -- fun little larks if you just can't get enough of this particular author/setting/character. This trilogy of Skyward novellas is something else. Clustered in around the events of book three in the main four book series, I honestly don't know how you could properly experience the series without including these.

I continue to believe that the advertised "co-authorship" of these novellas is far from a 50-50 balance. Sanderson seems to have handed off his characters for Janci Patterson to play with. Whether he contributed anything to the story outline, or just signed off on what Patterson herself created, is not as clear. But honestly, the biggest clue to any of this is in the dedication and acknowledgments -- not in the text of the story itself. The occasional difference in word choice might clue you in if you're paying very close attention, but Patterson has thoroughly captured the characters in the main series.

Indeed, she has expanded on a few of them through these novellas. While the main books are each a first person story told from the same character's perspective, each of these three novellas adopts a different character for the first person narrative. In particular, this story being from the perspective of an alien presents an interesting challenge. This is, of course, a "pop sci-fi" kind of alien, not so different from humans that their thoughts and behavior would be incomprehensible. Still, the story does have to deliver a lot of alien society, turns of phrase, and values without making that exposition awkward and conspicuous. With only few exceptions, Patterson does so very well.

Collectively, the three Skyward novellas total up to be just a little longer than one of the main books of the series itself. (At least, the three of the four that have been published so far.) And "bundled" like that might be the best way to think of them, because the story of ReDawn in particular ends in a fairly dramatic point of tension to pull you into the next volume. I'm eager to read what happens next. (Or rather, hear what happens next. Once again, I've experienced this book in audiobook form. Once again, Suzy Jackson narrates, with subtle shifts in her performance for the new character's perspective. She's excellent.)

I give ReDawn an A-. I continue to enjoy each new part of the Skyward series I experience, and highly recommend them.

Strange New Worlds: The Serene Squall

Strange New Worlds once again entertained with its latest episode, "The Serene Squall."

When the crew of the Enterprise is captured by pirates, Spock in particular becomes the focus of their leader. He must navigate the friction between his human and Vulcan natures to find a way out of the situation.

This episode goes a bit broad at times, but it stays well away from cheesy on the strength of the cast. Even though this is only the seventh episode of Strange New Worlds, you can really see the dividends being paid by how well all the characters have been set up so far. Even though this very much a "Spock episode," with significant roles for Chapel and Pike, there's other great banter involving Number One, Ortegas, and M'Benga that makes them all feel like important spices in the meal. I feel the absence of Uhura and Hemmer from this episode, much more than when an older Trek series would give a character the week off, because I can already imagine how each character would behave in a given situation, and I want to see it!

Of course, Ethan Peck continues to excel in the role of Spock. Yes, he has the help of Leonard Nimoy (and Zachary Quinto) before him, but that's also casting a huge shadow that could easily make it hard for him to find the spotlight. Instead, Peck is really showing us the less self-assured version of Spock that the writers have been presenting in this series.

This episode gives Spock a great foil in the character of Angel. I was aware of a lot of press surrounding this episode that Angel was a non-binary character played by a non-binary actor, Jesse James Keitel. Within the episode, that aspect is barely acknowledged -- which I found to be something of a double-edged sword. In terms of representation, where a character simply is non-binary and this is unremarkable to anyone around them, it feels good. But also, there's enormous context in this particular character being non-binary that made me wish the script had emphasized the point more.

For starters, there are essentially two characters here: the supportive counselor "Aspen" and the scenery-chewing villain Angel. But it's not really a dichotomy, because all of "Aspen's" advice (manipulative though it is) is actually genuine and reflects real history with Vulcans and emotion. Angel is both of these things at once, and not defined by either. Moreover, Angel spends the entire episode telling Spock to not let himself be defined by his own binary, his Vulcan and human selves; the message to "find his own way" hits quite differently coming from someone who has comfortably defined their own identity. In any case, Angel escapes at the end of the episode, so we have the chance to see more of them in the future.

Speaking of comfortably defining an identity, it already feels to me like Anson Mount has been playing Captain Pike all his life. True, he was around for season two of Discovery, and has more "reps" playing the character than others in Strange New Worlds. But still, think about how some other past Trek captains felt after a comparable number of episodes. Near the end of season one of The Next Generation, Picard was still quite the stick in the mud. Near the end of season one of Deep Space Nine, Sisko hardly resembled the man he would be a few seasons later. Sure, Pike might evolve more in the future, but he really doesn't feel like a character who needs attention from the writers in the same way.

Instead, the writers have been giving attention to a particular character relationship inspired from the original series: the one between Spock and Nurse Chapel. I'm really impressed at how Strange New Worlds is deepening that relationship while not invalidating what came before (or after, in the chronology). Chapel was always played as hopelessly, wrongly smitten with Spock in the classic series, but Strange New Worlds is showing that she's not dumb for that, but going into it with eyes open.

But that's not the "greatest degree of difficulty" among all the dives the writers are performing in the episode. That goes to the decision to connect Spock's half-brother Sybok to the plot in the final moments. I would say Sybok comes from the worst Star Trek movie... except that I firmly believe that "boring" is worse than "bad," so Star Trek: The Motion Picture comes out lower in my estimation than Star Trek V: The Final Frontier. In any case, you could have forgiven the writers for leaving alone the idea of the "laughing Vulcan who wants to meet God." But if anyone could spin that straw into gold, I'm believing it would be the writers of Strange New Worlds.

Another strong episode, I give "The Serene Squall" a B+

Hail Yes!

As someone who regards organized religion with healthy suspicion (and the dominant organized religions in the United States with something more like casual disdain), I've had a particular documentary movie on my radar for a while now. I was finally able to watch it (streaming now on Hulu!), and was not disappointed.

Hail Satan? (with the question mark) is an examination of The Satanic Temple. Over 95 minutes, you learn about its birth as a sort of cheeky protest against theocracy, and follow it through its growth into a movement where religiosity and activism mingle. (So: a religion.) Director Penny Lane gets complete access to the key players within The Satanic Temple, and she uses it to present a compelling tale of, as she put it in an interview, "watching a new religion get born, right before our eyes, and how goofy and weird that looks, especially if you’re not part of it."

What The Satanic Temple is essentially doing is lifting up equality and social justice as the basis for a religion. While the documentary is only 3 years old, and the Temple itself only 10 years old, the need for (and righteousness of) that cause seems to me only to have intensified in that time. As actions are taken in the name of conventional religions with increasing fervor, secularism is deserving of equal fervor. Why not embrace that with a religious passion?

The work of The Satanic Temple would make a largely overlapping Venn diagram with the beliefs of an atheist. But interviewees in the film make a compelling case for why atheism is not enough. A growing movement needs to foster a sense of community. It needs symbols to signal to outsiders and to each other. And you do not have to wait for all that to develop organically; you can take up the symbols and community that have been rejected by others and jump-start your way to a strong statement.

The Satanic Temple may have started as a put-on, but it's very much not that now. It's not to be taken literally... but the most savvy people in their membership know that tongue must remain planted firmly in cheek, lest it undermine how sincerely they are perceived. The documentary essentially left me feeling: "how is this not a religion?" For sure, they're out there doing... heh-heh... Lucifer's work.

I definitely recommend watching Hail Satan? I give the movie an A-. (The movement itself? A+.)

Voyager Flashback: Day of Honor

In the fourth season of Star Trek: The Next Generation, an unusual but entertaining episode focused simply on "Data's Day." It feels like Voyager tried their own spin on this concept with B'Elanna Torres in "Day of Honor."

It's the holiday on which Klingons compare their accomplishments to the great figures of history. B'Elanna is conflicted about taking part in the tradition, and her feelings aren't eased by the horrible day she's having: a transwarp experiment fails and forces them to eject the ship's warp core, and efforts to retrieve it wind up with her and Paris alone in spacesuits in deep space. Meanwhile, Seven of Nine continues to adjust to her new life as an ex-Borg, dealing with hatred for what she used to be.

Executive producer Jeri Taylor wasn't writing as many scripts herself by this point in her tenure with Star Trek: Voyager. But it feels like she seized the reins of this one so that she could steer the story in a direction that others in the writing staff were reportedly reluctant to go. Most, it seems, were happy with the sort of "will they, won't they" dynamic between Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres; Taylor wanted to advance the couple into a true relationship.

My memory of Voyager is that the Tom-B'Elanna pairing eventually works well enough. But I'm still not that sold on it at this point. It feels to me like Tom is always pushing her to be someone she doesn't necessarily want to be: more Klingon. He accuses her of using hostility to push others away, but he is often just as eager to avoid serious conversation, deflecting with humor. It's unclear to me at this stage how much Paris truly loves B'Elanna as opposed to desires her; it feels very awkward to me at the climax of this episode when she finally says "I love you," and he doesn't reply at all (not even with something pithy like an "I know").

The concept of the Day of Honor, in which all of this is explored, is in a similar space for me: it sort of works, but sort of doesn't. The idea of a Yom Kippur inspired holiday in which Klingons take stock of their lives is clever (and, apparently, was first created for a series of Star Trek novels before it appeared here). But the particulars we see in this episode feel more like Cinco de Mayo: inauthentic cultural mimicry. Before B'Elanna bails on her Day of Honor ritual, we're told it will involve eating and drinking challenges, painsticks, and bat'leth fights. It's just as well we don't see most of that, because we've certainly seen it all before.

Instead, the show spends its budget to maroon Tom and B'Elanna and spacesuits for the back half of the episode. It's a great idea, and they certainly do the best they could for late 1990s television. Still... it doesn't look great. The floating is awkward, the compositing on the space background is often obvious, and there are lots of weird reflections on their helmets. Yet actors Roxann Dawson and Robert Duncan McNeill really worked hard for it to look this good: fans had to blow constantly to keep their helmet glass from fogging, so they could not hear each other and they had to re-record all the dialogue later. Both spent days of shooting in a variety of uncomfortable rigs, Dawson revealing to only a very few people that she was actually a few months pregnant at the time!

A subplot with Seven of Nine is similarly good in concept but not great in execution. Having Seven face hatred from aliens who were decimated by the Borg is a great idea, but the way these aliens are written borders on tacky. The Caatati are refugees in great need, but they behave like con artists giving a shakedown. Their dialogue is written as if by a Reagan-era conservative: they don't say what people in need would say, they say what a "needy Welfare Queen looking for a free handout" would say.

And I think not enough is made of Seven's naivete here. She gets a big growth moment where she volunteers to hand herself over to the Caatati so they'll spare Voyager. But she can't understand the full context of what the aliens would do to her. She wouldn't be in for more taunts like B'Elanna trying to make her feel bad. She would be tortured and violated in ways admittedly not to be discussed explicitly on a family show... though to not voice this even obliquely seems like a wild omission to me.

Other observations:

• Vorik is back. Jeri Taylor wrote her son Alexander Enberg back into the show. (And why not? Minor characters should recur on Voyager.)

• Neelix offers himself up to be berated by B'Elanna whenever she's feeling bad. I know I for one would enjoy seeing her take him up on that some time.
  

• Paris is more willing than most to overlook Seven of Nine's past. This feels authentic to his own history and having been given a second chance.

• The "space walk" effects may be spotty, but the visuals of the warp core ejection (and the empty space that leaves in Engineering) look great!

• We lose yet another shuttle. Feels like we're going through those faster than photon torpedoes.
  

• B'Elanna says floating in space is like floating in the womb. Who remembers that?

• When rescue arrives for Tom and B'Elanna, they're told to "prepare to beam aboard." What's to prepare? We're dying here, beam us up!
  

A good idea that's quite rough around the edges, I see "Day of Honor" as a B-.

Very Knife!

I'm past the point where I can retain all the plot points from all the as-yet-unfinished book series whose authors I'm waiting on for the next volume -- and consequently, I rarely start an unfinished series these days. But finished series aren't so hard a sell, and that's how last year I embarked on the five book Lightbringer series from Brent Weeks... and recently finished book two, The Blinding Knife.

If I'm to persuade any of my readers to become readers of a book series, then spoilers become a major consideration after book one of a serialized saga. So I'll have to keep things general and recap only the basics: this is set in a world where magical power is derived from light (and specifically, which colors in the spectrum you can "draft" from). There are tropes here: a familiar "Chosen One" (or is he?) character, and a familiar wise sorcerer character (though he's not especially wise, and not much of an advisor).

The Blinding Knife builds up a lot of what's intriguing about the setting, and it also satisfying develops the aspects that aren't the most trope-tastic parts of the narrative. We're introduced to a very engaging new character, Teia, and her relationship to the magical system of this series is unexpected and compelling. The political landscape continues to develop, with the major antagonist developing in a good way -- he has a good underlying point (as the best villains do), but goes about achieving his ends in a truly monstrous way (as the best villains do).

Other subversions of the fantasy formula are more subtle, but no less welcome. The arc of a young magic apprentice coming into his power is nice in that he really has to work to improve. His facility with magic is all you'd expect it to be, but he's not especially smart and certainly can't do "everything." He regularly needs help from others (especially the new character, Teia), and he's a pawn in a game that others understand far better than he.

The pace does slacken at times. In particular, Brent Weeks' fascination with the real-world Magic: the Gathering shows too often, and the romantic tension between two of the characters doesn't feel as tense to me as it was surely intended. But quibbling about pace is a very different thing than arguing that "nothing happens." I was actually shocked at how much does happen in this book, for a series that's going to continue three books more. At least one major subplot that I felt sure was going to loom large in the later books appears to be shockingly, abruptly ended in this book. And a major "hammer waiting to fall" actually does so as part of the cliffhanger here, rather than another book or two from now as I might have anticipated.

Starting here with book two, I made the switch from reading the series to listening to the audiobook version. Epic fantasy tomes can certainly take up a lot of listening time, so this approach probably isn't for everyone. And while I can't say that narrator Simon Vance is among my favorite readers I've listened to, his British accent certainly suits the atmosphere I'd hoped to be immersed in when I first took on a five-volume high fantasy series.

I give The Blinding Knife a B+. I'll definitely be moving onto book three of the series.

Strange New Worlds: Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach

Much has been written about the way Strange New Worlds is capturing Star Trek of the past with its episodic structure. Of all the episodes so far, I think none have captured the original series in particular as much as the latest, "Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach."

The Enterprise rescues a Majalan ship under attack, and in doing so saves the most holy figure in the planet's entire society: a young child dubbed the "First Servant." Pike reunites with a local leader he met years ago as a lieutenant, and the two rekindle their relationship -- but the secret of the First Servant lurks beneath. Meanwhile, Dr. M'Benga realizes the Majalan's advanced technology may provide a means of curing the disease that afflicts his daughter. And Uhura begins a rotation in security under the demanding La'an.

This episode has its share of old school trappings that immediately put you in the "original series" mindset. The captain is bedding the fetching-alien-of-the-week. Spock gets a light interaction with a keener intellect than he can always find among his shipmates. But mainly, it's the moral parable at the center that feels most like something the original writers would have put on screen. (To a less dark extent, they kind of did so in "The Empath.")

This episode of Strange New Worlds may have been inspired in particular by the short story "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas," by Ursula K. Le Guin. (My well-read friend pointed out the connection immediately; several online reviews have done the same.) In any case, the timing of this take on the message is particularly poignant as we all still processing the school shootings in Uvalde just weeks ago.

Sadly, there's no coincidence of timing required for a science fiction tale to arrive soon in the aftermath of a mass shooting in America. Perhaps it's barely even a coincidence for it to be an especially horrific shooting. Or one in which children in particular are victims. Perhaps that makes the message of this fiction all the more sharp: your society has made the decision that sacrificing children is acceptable. Are you comfortable with the terms? The scope? Is it really for a "greater good?" Are you fully aware that this is the exchange being made?

Did the writers of Strange New Worlds make "Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach" about gun violence? Probably not directly, and certainly not to the degree that the original Trek writers were thinking about racism when they painted actors' faces half white and half black. But... if the shoe fits.

For those in the audience who might find this part of the story too dark, or not subtle enough (those who, some might say, don't want to look at issue as the alien leader Alora says), there's plenty more to the episode. Indeed, I am becoming more and more impressed by how Strange New Worlds incorporates multiple story lines and characters into each episode. The era of (good) Next Generation through Enterprise was marked by episodes in which a "scenario of the week" would particularly impact one character, making it "their" episode. Strange New Worlds finds ways for several characters to brush up against the story in intriguing ways, a more "ripples in the pond" approach.

This is mainly Pike's episode (and Anson Mount is excellent again). But M'Benga gets a touching furtherance of the ongoing story with his daughter, in a way that's naturally linked to the larger narrative. Uhura and La'an have a fun side story together that ultimately does inform the main plot. And so we keep learning more about all these interesting characters.

I will say, the level of suspense doesn't quite work throughout the episode. We know there's a shoe waiting to drop here for a very long time. The episode itself seems to know that we know, but keeps drawing the reveal out as long as it can. And while the conclusion does still work, it's easy to believe that it could have hit a little harder had the taffy not been stretched quite so far.

Still, "Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach" is a solid episode. I give it a B+.

For the Sarah Paulson Appreciation Society

If you don't watch any of TV creator Ryan Murphy's various "American [BLANK] Story" shows, you may be less aware of the considerable talent of actress Sarah Paulson. She seems to get plenty of work in Hollywood, but when she comes back to one of those anthology series, it's to play Marcia Clark, or conjoined twins, or a drug-addicted ghost. She's got range, is what I'm trying to say. But she does seem to enjoy the horror-thriller genre. Which may be how she ended up in the Hulu movie Run.

Teenage Chloe deals with a number of challenges: she's confined to a wheelchair, has diabetes, asthma, and still more health conditions. Her mother Diane has taken care of her all her life... but now Chloe is planning for college. And in the process, dark secrets begin to come to light.

Quite honestly, this movie is beneath Sarah Paulson. But because she's so good in everything, with a proven track record of making basically anything feel credible, this movie turns out to be a fun (if sometimes a little cheesy) ride. Think Fatal Attraction for Glenn Close, or Misery for Kathy Bates. If you think you'd enjoy watching Sarah Paulson take a turn at "bringing the crazy," this movie is for you.

Run is a tight little movie at less than 90 minutes. It seems to recognize that there isn't a lot of meat on this particular bone, though there are certainly some delicious bites to be had. The script is crafted efficiently take you from one fun suspense set piece to the next, and it doesn't overstay its welcome.

It's also essentially a two-hander, and fortunately it's not just Sarah Paulson who does good work. The character of Chloe is actually the lead here, and she's played capably by Kiera Allen. You have to be able to root for the protagonist here, or the whole story isn't going to work at all. Fortunately, that's not an issue.

I wish I could say a bit more, but with few actors and such a tight story, there's simply not much else I could say that wouldn't spoil the charms for fans of this movie genre. So I'll simply get right to it and give Run a B-. It's not a "must see" movie, but I think it will appeal to some -- and I've probably already said enough for those people to know who they are.

Voyager Flashback: The Gift

Star Trek: The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine had both written main characters off the show during their runs. Voyager's turn came with season four's "The Gift."

As Seven of Nine faces difficulty adjusting to life outside the Borg collective, Kes suddenly undergoes a spike in her mental abilities. One of them struggles to fit in with the crew, while the other is forced to say goodbye.

There are two vastly different stories surrounding the circumstances in which Kes was written off of Star Trek: Voyager -- the version told at the time in 1997 (and enhanced with small details over the years), and a version that emerged more recently in 2020 (when authors Ben Robinson and Mark Wright wrote a behind-the-scenes book on the series).

In the first version of the story, budget was to blame. Voyager was bringing on the new character, Seven of Nine. The show already had nine regular cast members and couldn't afford a tenth; someone had to go. Kes' story arc had proven more limited than the writers had originally imagined, so she was the one to go. (Later, a rumor would emerge that Harry Kim had been on the chopping block, but actor Garrett Wang's timely appearance on People magazine's list of the "50 Most Beautiful People In The World" persuaded the Powers That Be to keep him around.)

In the later version of the story, actress Jennifer Lien had been having problems with the production that were kept from public knowledge. She'd become erratic and unreliable, and the decision was made to write her character off the show wholly separate from the introduction of Seven of Nine. This would seem to comport with clear mental health challenges Lien would face later in life; she has had multiple legal run-ins since 2015. But which came first: Lien's untreated condition leading to her dismissal from Star Trek: Voyager, or her firing from the show being a formative event echoing decades later in her life? (Producer Jeri Taylor indicates that Lien refused any offer of help at the time.)

There's probably no way of knowing how it all really happened. But apparently, writing Kes off the show happened sooner than originally planned. After thinking Kes would leave in the fifth episode of season four, the departure was abruptly moved up to the second episode. Unfortunately, Seven of Nine had not yet been fully introduced, and so the episode couldn't be just a goodbye to Kes. The result is a very tightly packed episode.

There are good scenes within it, though. The real life feelings of the actors spill through all over the Kes half of the story. The only Neelix-Kes scene we've had in ages is good, and the later Janeway-Kes scene even better; both are clearly brimming with real emotion. More time would have allowed us similar scenes with the Doctor and Tuvok at the very least, but at least the writers avoid killing the character. Sending her off with ascendant powers is satisfyingly similar to Wesley Crusher's ultimate fate, and with the added sweetness of shaving a big distance off of Voyager's journey home.

Moments of the Seven story are good too. She is an addict going through withdrawal, and Jeri Ryan gives a solid performance. But also, the show is already pushing her sex appeal even before she's fully de-Borged: there are lots of long, almost leering camera angles, Seven is sporting an amount of visible hip that feels like "side butt," and the Doctor takes a slightly gross level of interest in establishing her ultimate physical appearance.

Other observations:

• Kes uses her mental abilities to literally save Seven of Nine's life. This requires Jennifer Lien to stare intently at the actress who is replacing her. Rough.

• In one scene (at the left), there's some truly weird blocking for the camera that just makes no sense in real life. In the middle of Janeway making an impassioned argument to Seven of Nine, she walks behind the Borg to deliver the words to the back of her head. (Just so we can see both faces in frame at once.)
  

• Neelix says Kes always hated his cooking. So he's known this WHOLE TIME?!

• We lose another shuttle. But "shuttle for 10 years closer to home" is a good trade.

As a continued introduction of Seven of Nine, this is a pretty strong episode. As a goodbye for, frankly, one of the best characters Voyager had? It's a nice idea, but the execution feels rushed and insufficient. I give "The Gift" a B-.

All Dolled Up

How is it that I never blogged about Russian Doll before now?! The recent release of season two of this unusual show gives me a chance to address that. (Even though it must be said: season two is not as good as season one.)

Russian Doll is the story of Nadia, who finds herself in a cosmic conundrum when she keeps dying on her birthday, only to appear again at the party her friends have thrown her. Season two ups the time travel ante, as Nadia finds herself able to take a train ride into her family's past, where she hopes to set right the things she thinks went wrong.

Everything about Russian Doll is just a little odd. It's a complicated story... told in a tight handful of 30-minute episodes. (Season one is 8; season two only 7.) It's debatable whether it's mostly meant as a comedy or a drama. It's borrowing from particular existing story structures... and isn't afraid to tell that to the audience as it piles on its own strange twists.

What makes it all work is Natasha Lyonne. She's the star, the co-creator, often the writer, and sometimes the director. Russian Doll feels like it's speaking with one authorial voice -- and it's a voice I love. (I even mean that literally; her raspy, irreverent speech is one of the great charms of the show.) Russian Doll has really made me feel the need to go back and pick up Orange Is the New Black, and/or generally seek out all the Natasha Lyonne I can. (The more creative involvement she had, the better.)

I highly recommend season one of Russian Doll. Jumping off from Groundhog Day, it introduces its own clever spin on the "repeat the same day" trope, and also manages to reach a kind of message that isn't simply "be a better person."

Season two? Well... there no denying it's a big step down. It's inspired more by Quantum Leap, but the message isn't as sharp, the characters aren't as well used, and the story isn't as tight (despite one fewer episode). But Natasha Lyonne is still at the center, and she's still a delight to watch. I would never have fallen so hard for Russian Doll if this had somehow been the first season, but having already been sold, I was happy to watch more.

I'd give season one of Russian Doll an A-, and season two a B-. I think most of my readers would enjoy watching at least some of it... the question is whether to jump off after the first batch of episodes.

Electric Sheep (A Eulogy for The Orville?)

This past week, The Orville returned with new episodes after more than three years. I probably will keep watching? But I certainly doubt that I'm going to share weekly thoughts on the show as I once did. Still, I thought I'd at least write a post on this occasion because... poor Orville. It never had its time to shine.

The Orville was conceived in a world with no Star Trek on television. Star-creator Seth MacFarlane clearly, deeply loved the franchise and wanted to fill the niche. But just two weeks after The Orville premiered, Star Trek: Discovery made its debut, bringing official Star Trek television back into existence. And the show has only watched as its role has been chipped away at by the modern Star Trek industrial complex.

OK, so Discovery was "Star Trek," but The Orville was clearly striking the tone of "what if The Next Generation had gone into an eighth season?," serving us weekly throwback kinds of episodes. Well, then along came Star Trek: Picard to apply directly to our inflamed nostalgia. The Orville often had a welcome, lighter tone than either of those two shows... until Lower Decks came along to fully inhabit that role. And now, just as The Orville finally makes it back after long delays? Strange New Worlds is doing "weekly episode" Star Trek better than any longtime Trekker could have hoped for.

It's not like "there can be only one." There was room on television for several CSI variants, NCIS variants, Law and Order variants, and more similar shows besides -- for years on end. On the other hand, The Orville isn't just competing with five Star Trek series (!) currently juggling new episodes -- it's competing with Obi-Wan Kenobi, the new season of Stranger Things, For All Mankind returning for its third season, three shows on that streaming service where you're waiting for a fourth to justify subscribing, and twelve pressing recommendations from your friends.

What a "problem" to have. But for The Orville, unfortunately -- it's a problem. Because let's all be realistic about where it's going to fall in the pecking order. That's a shame, because even as "not actual Star Trek," it's still "pretty good Star Trek." The third season premiere, "Electric Sheep," was absolutely a solid episode, with reasonably deft takes on big issues including bigotry and suicide. It introduced a new cast member fairly well. It served up enough eyeball candy visual effects to make Star Trek: The Motion Picture jealous.

And that was... fine. A grade B? Totally enjoyable as I watched it, probably worth recommending. And a recommendation I doubt anyone would have time for.

It took so long for the third season of The Orville to make it to Hulu that all the cast had to be released from their contracts. Seth MacFarlane has moved on to announce a TV show spin-off of Ted. So The Orville would have to be an out-of-control hit for them to pull the band back together for any more episodes after this third season. We all know that's simply not going to happen.

Maybe in a few more weeks, when Strange New Worlds has run all of its (so far excellent) first season, and The Orville is still bringing new episodes for a while longer? Maybe then, there will be more space to enjoy it? Ah, but then we'll still be trying to keep up with more Stranger Things, the arrival of Andor and The Sandman, the return of What We Do in the Shadows, and more. We're not even going to care about Westworld season four then; how are we expected to make room for "proxy Star Trek?"

Sorry, The Orville. You were trying to do a noble thing. You did it pretty well. You got lost in the sea of "peak TV."

Last But Least

After watching the first two Fear Street films (and generally enjoying both), there was no way I wasn't going to finish the Netflix horror trilogy with Fear Street Part Three: 1666. But unfortunately, the series concluded with its weakest installment.

In the 17th century, a small group of California settlers are shaken as calamities befall their community. They take up a hunt for the witch they believe to be responsible, setting in motion a curse that would plague the area for more than 300 years.

The first two Fear Streets were clear homages to particular horror sub-genres: 90s films in the mold of Scream, and 70s/80s slashers. While I suppose there are a handful of "period colonial horror films" kicking about, it's hardly a genre staple like, say, the "found footage" horror movie, the possession sub-genre, or the "young child in jeopardy" formula. So Part Three of Fear Street is starting at a disadvantage, unable to trade on the goodwill of a familiar movie style as its plot settles in.

Another issue is that Fear Street Part Three is really "Fear Street Part Three Part One" and "Fear Street Part Three Part Two." Or, less confusingly: it's two movies in one. It's spoiling little to say what you'll suspect before watching any of the Fear Street movies: there are continuing plot elements running throughout the entire trilogy, and ultimately those have to be wrapped up. The last section of Fear Street Part Three does exactly that, concluding the entire series. I don't want to spoil anything there, but suffice it to say that conclusion, while reasonably good enough to satisfy you for sticking around, wasn't mind-blowing.

But first, you have to get through the 1666 section of the film, and it's pretty rough. Moreover, it's disappointing after what the finale of the previous film tees up. A small spoiler here, but coming into this movie, you're primed to expect that a character from one time frame has somehow been sent back in time to inhabit the body of someone in the past. You expect some nightmare Cassandra kind of scenario, in which no future knowledge that person has will help them change the course of a dark history.

Yet even though we get a "Quantum Leap" style gag in which we see that the "future person" actually looks like the "past person" to everyone else, it turns out that the "future person" isn't in control at all. They're simply starring in a reenactment; we're just seeing the story of 1666 exactly as it happened. The idea that someone is simply "riding along" to witness the story is far less compelling -- and muddled further by the fact that all of the characters in the 1666 time frame are portrayed by actors from the first two Fear Street movies. What's going on here, exactly? We're specifically shown that the main character only looks the way they do to us, the audience. So... do any of the other characters actually look like this either? Is this a Back to the Future treatment of ancestry, or colonial dinner theater? Either way, it feels false and deflates the stakes.

So, after two decent takes on two different horror styles, Fear Street Part Three is a badly put-together take on nothing in particular (oh, and with terrible accents!)... until it transforms into a "good enough (but not great)" wrap-up for the trilogy as a whole. Which really puts the audience in a bind. Each of the first two Fear Streets almost stand alone enough for a horror fan to enjoy them individually... but not quite. You're going to want to know how it all ends, and that final film is by all measures the weakest of the lot.

I suppose anyone who likes horror movies is no stranger to watching bad ones. The whole genre is like panning for gold: the truly great ones are rare and precious. With that in mind, I suppose I would recommend Fear Street as a whole to fans of horror movies. But Fear Street Part Three: 1666 in particular? I'd give it a C.

Strange New Worlds: Spock Amok

Nearly every Star Trek series has gotten a handful of episodes into their first season before serving up a sort of goofy romp meant mainly to highlight character. Strange New Worlds took its run at that with "Spock Amok"... and it was delightful.

The Enterprise returns to spacedock, and much of the crew takes shore leave. Spock and T'Pring conduct a Vulcan ritual to bring themselves closer together... and wind up switching bodies. Meanwhile, Una and La'an stumble onto the activities of junior crewmembers, and Pike is unexpectedly drawn into diplomatic negotiations with an alien species. Hijinks ensue.

Until perhaps the last 5 to 10 minutes of the episode, "Spock Amok" almost strikes the tone of an episode of Lower Decks. Live action Star Trek has dared to be this irreverent before. It's even done a body swap story or two. But here, the episode just goes full "Freaky Friday," embraces the hijinks (literally calling them that!), and gives us Spock-as-T'Pring and T'Pring-as-Spock. It's even doing it for the same typical "moral" of a Freak Friday scenario: for each person to learn what it's like walking in the others' shoes.

Every aspect of this story line is perfection. Ethan Peck and guest star Gia Sandhu expertly mimic each other's vocal inflections and physicality (and yes, they are different even within the narrow confines of being Vulcan). And theirs isn't the only marvelously subtle acting on display; Anson Mount is chef's kiss with Pike's reaction to the situation, and Jess Bush gets her best scenes yet as Nurse Chapel.

The comedy isn't limited to just this "A story," though. La'an and Una's pairing to discover "Enterprise Bingo" is another light (and wonderful) story line, filled with truly funny moments. (Both wanting to be "bad cop" is perhaps the best.) Chapel telegraphing a bad date and then us seeing that is a lot of fun.

But most incredibly, the episode does take a turn for the serious in the end... and while not quite the pure joy like everything that preceded it, it basically works too. Pike resolves the diplomatic crisis with the R'ongovians with pleasant subtlety; we'd all figured out that they empathically react to the people they speak to, but Pike goes one step further in serving their empathy back at them. Una and La'an share the awe inspiring moment of watching the solar ship sail over them as they stand outside in space. Chapel hints at a romantic interest. (In Spock? In Ortegas? Both? Interesting!) And Spock and T'Pring finally do share their deep insecurities with one another.

All of that in an episode that also opens with a nightmare that re-stages the classic episode "Amok Time" -- complete with composer Gerald Fried's iconic battle music! I found myself totally, unreservedly enchanted by the spell this episode cast on me. For certain, it's at least an A-. Perhaps I'm only withholding an A here because I can't see my way to that for a "comedy episode?"

Then again, I really can't think of what more I would have wanted here. So... sure! Call it the first A episode of Strange New Worlds in my book. No, this is not what I want every episode of Strange New Worlds to be. But yes, this was my favorite episode so far.

Us, Weekly

I suspect that most of my readers did not watch the NBC family drama This Is Us. The Venn diagram of the audiences for my blog and that show might be pretty close to two separate circles. However, I watched the entire six-season run (week to week, as it was new), which just concluded satisfyingly on its own terms. It felt to me worth a few quick words of praise, on the off chance that more of you might like the show than I expect.

The worst -- and yet perhaps most accurate -- way I could describe This Is Us is that it was like Lost with none of the science fiction parts. This Is Us was a twisting, elaborate narrative told in multiple time frames. Flashbacks gradually illuminated the audience on every facet of the lives of the Pearson family. But instead of mysteries like "what is the smoke monster?" or "what's inside the hatch?", the questions were mysteries like "how did that couple end up divorcing?" or "how did the father die?"

Whether those kinds of questions appeal to you depends entirely on whether you can get caught up in the daily trials of these characters. But if you can be, then the answers are more rewarding across the board than anything Lost ever offered. (And mind you, I'm generally a defender of Lost overall.) This Is Us was something of a highbrow soap opera, with twists grounded very much in the good and bad decisions of its characters.

How did it stay engaging without the big swings of long-lost identical twins, pregnancy scandals, or forced love rhombuses? Through very good writing and even better acting. The show had a way of turning the mundane into the profound, and featured a cast that won not nearly as many Emmys as it should have during its run. I could drone on for paragraphs praising each performer, but I'll focus on two in particular: Sterling K. Brown did receive awards for his raw and emotional work on the show; and Mandy Moore (much to my shock, given her original background as a singer) was stunning at playing the same character in multiple times, with increasingly challenging story lines the longer the show ran.

No, not every episode in six years was perfect. Each season had its highs and lows (and like so many shows, Covid presented a huge production challenge that they weren't totally successful in meeting). But the series was genuinely, deeply moving with remarkable regularity. A show that you watch even though few people you know do is perhaps by definition a guilty pleasure... though I don't feel at all guilty in saying that it was a pleasure. I'd give the whole of This Is Us an A-.

I'll miss the show now that it's gone, but I'm glad it chose when to go out, and did so on a creative high.

Voyager Flashback: Scorpion, Part II

The fourth season premiere of Star Trek: Voyager, "Scorpion, Part II," was a big milestone for the series: it marked Seven of Nine's introduction to the show.

The alliance of Voyager with the Borg, to overcome Species 8472, is working... but not without friction. As Janeway and Chakotay continue to clash over how to handle the situation, a "representative" from the Borg collective is chosen to interact with the humans. Will the Borg betray them at the first opportunity?

It sure seems like in the run-up to this episode, no one was especially happy about the Seven of Nine situation. A vocal contingent was complaining on BBS forums and at Trek conventions about how unnecessary "T&A" was being forced into the show. UPN executives were reportedly confused and upset that the character didn't look anything like they'd been promised in her first appearance. Actress Jeri Ryan, who had auditioned with scenes reflecting Seven's eventual position with the crew, hadn't exactly realized that she'd have to play full Borg in her first episode.

The seeds of behind-the-scenes resentment, which would eventually bloom in full, were planted here. Kate Mulgrew would ultimately come to feel that the Powers That Be were taking her show away from her by bringing in some new, sexy thing to upstage her. And to make room, they were unceremoniously shoving out the door a very young and relatively inexperienced actress with mental health issues. (More on that in my next "flashback review.")

But you hardly see any of that on the screen. Perhaps you might feel the Voyager crew is being oddly uncaring about Kes' telepathic distress in this episode... but no more so than they are in throwing Harry Kim right back to work the moment he's recovered from the trauma of almost being "bio-assimilated" by Species 8472. (Physically, anyway. The mental trauma is given no mention.) Yet it's not as though the episode is so action-packed that it doesn't have time for any character moments; it's just that there's only time for some of the characters.

The conflict between Chakotay and Janeway in this episode truly is interesting here. Taking Janeway out of action to allow Chakotay to back out of a plan he never really believed in makes for great conflict -- though I do wish both sides of their argument were more forcefully presented. Janeway is right that the entire galaxy is at stake here, and so risks need to be taken. Chakotay is right that the Borg are going to double-cross them, and no one knows better than him how collective Borg thought creates that inevitable end. It all plays well if you know the characters and bring your own subtext; it just would have been nice if the episode had more time to put more of the subtext into "text."

Seven of Nine isn't really the character she'd come to be, but she does get a number of chilling threats and fun "we are Borg" ("you're being stupid") moments. The Borg adapt and assimilate techniques of coercion: after being forced by Janeway to cooperate, they in turn force Chakotay's hand by transporting Voyager to their enemy's "fluidic space." And along the way, the Doctor gets a couple of fun quips.

But there are some very inelegant moments in the writing as well. The Borg aboard Voyager know well in advance that they're going to be blown out into space, but take no steps to adapt in advance to this information. A trip to Leonardo da Vinci's workship without Leonardo himself feels weird. And in the end, our heroes stupidly decide to remove any Borg tech upgrades, purely for television reasons of keeping the ship looking the same. (How about for justification: "if we leave any Borg tech connected to our ship, that's a risky access point the Borg could use against us in the future"?)

Other observations:

• The show isn't being coy about its cast changes at all. Jennifer Lien is out of the main credits (bumped to "Also Starring") and Jeri Ryan is in. Plus, a long and lingering shot of Seven of Nine at the end of the episode is meant to tell you she's here to stay (in case you missed all those other clues, or the summer media blitz that preceded the new character's arrival).

• CG of this time period remains hit and miss. Species 8472 looks a little better than in the third season finale (those eyes are quite creepy), but Voyager itself looks pretty rough in several shots.
  

• Fans counting Voyager's stash of photon torpedoes were flummoxed by this episode. The number given here is higher than it should be by subtracting everything used since the last time a number was given.

Officially, this is the second part of a two-part episode -- and it does resolve the Species 8472 cliffhanger of last season. (Arguably, too easily.) But unofficially, this is the middle part of a three parter that's really setting up the new landscape for Star Trek: Voyager. As such, it kind of has that "not entirely satisfying" feeling that middles of trilogies so often have. I give "Scorpion, Part II" a B.

2 Fear 2 Street

Plenty of horror movies spawn cash-in sequels (usually with diminishing creative returns). But Fear Street was a novelty: a trilogy of horror films made all at once, and released across just three weeks on Netflix. Part One was good-but-not-great, enough so that I moved on to Fear Street Part Two: 1978. And I found myself rewarded for it.

The title promises exactly what's "inside the box"; this movie is set in 1978, at a summer camp where a bloody killer goes on a murderous rampage. Yup, where "Part One: 1994" used Scream as its main touchstone, this installment in the trilogy is drawing on Friday the 13th.

Once again, director Leigh Janiak let's you know that she's studied these classic horror movies and is able to adjust her own style to match them. Part Two doesn't have the "chewed up and spit out" grind house quality when it comes to the actual "film stock" (you have to really want that in an age of 4K digital photography), but in every other way that matters, the movie is using the cinematic language of a Friday the 13th or Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Violent as both Part One and Two are, there was something about Part One that felt a little more "juvenile." The characters felt like I'd imagine those in an R. L. Stine book to be (except that they curse), and there seemed to be more time for teen drama. Part Two seems more adult, and once things get going, there's precious little time for angst. I don't always go for horror movies that are premised on lining up lambs for the slaughter, but I enjoyed this one more than usual.

With a new time period comes a new cast, and I generally found the actors of Part Two to be just a cut above the Part One ensemble. Sadie Sink stars as the protagonist of the piece, and I think it's not just good vibes from recognizing her (from Stranger Things) that made me like her here. I could go on and list a half dozen more performers you certainly won't recognize by name (but you've probably seen one or two of them somewhere you can't quite place). Suffice it to say that I find this group believable and enjoyable -- a useful thing for getting the audience to care once the blood starts flying.

At the same time, while Part Two is a well-made slasher movie, it's not as well written as Part One. There really aren't any clever twists here, no novel take on a time-honored formula. It's a very straight-forward "if you like movies like this, you will like this movie." Which really isn't something you can always get away with, except that people haven't exactly made movies just like this in a while. (But to stress: you have to be enough of a horror fan to appreciate that it's the particular "throwback slasher" niche I'm talking about here.)

I'd say I enjoyed Fear Street Part Two: 1978 a touch more than Part One, so I'll give it a B. And yes, of course I went on to finish the trilogy. I'll catch you up on that soon.