In Which I Review the Doctor Who Christmas Special (2016)

It has been far too long. For an entire year, I have been without my very favorite TV mythological hero and his wonky, wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey adventures through all of time and space. After such an extended period away, this year's holiday extravaganza "The Return of Doctor Mysterio" felt like nothing short of a Christmas miracle. If I'm being up front and honest, the Christmas episode could have been down right terrible and I'd probably still praise it to the hilt (my show has been off the air for a year! I get all sentimental and gushy after 365 days) but thankfully for me, and for all of you reading my review, the special this year was delightfully cheeky with its winks and nods to comic books, over the top villains, and outlandish origin stories of superheroes. After all, why not? It's Christmas, a time for all mythological heroes to come home to roost and The Doctor is the best superhero of them all. And, as usual, he, his TARDIS, and everything that comes along for the sleigh ride are my favorite Christmas gifts. Put on your secret identity glasses and let's go! 

No one is born a superhero. Not Superman, not the Doctor, and not even Grant Gordon, known by his more flashy moniker, The Ghost. No, most of the time those we recognize as superheroes become such through extraordinary measures: sent to a far off distant planet as a baby, bitten by a radioactive spider, struck by lightening, an encounter with an alien or divine race, or they chose to live a life of adventure out there amongst the stars saving the lives of strangers as they pass by. The superhero story follows the same path as the hero of myth or legend--mild mannered and unimportant, they are pulled out of the known inexplicably by something or someone greater than themselves into the realm of the unknown, the "other," where magic and cosmic forces collide; there they are asked to save the very fabric of reality from an agent of chaos and death. Harry Potter gets a letter from Hogwarts, Buffy gets a visit from a Watcher, Luke finds an android, and Henry knocks on Emma Swan's front door. All of these are moments that beckon the superhero within, that allow the mundane to transform into the mythical and it's actually something Doctor Who does on a pretty regular basis with the Doctor and his companions. In religious schools and communities there is a principle known as transcendence in which the subject is vaulted above their mental and cognitive plane of existence to, at the very least, glimpse the divine. At the same they are witnessing the divine in this moment of transcendence, they are able to touch their own sense of divinity, to find that inner spark of the divine that resides in all of us. To paraphrase the last show I reviewed: to find the center of the Maze and touch their version of the creator. The companions of the Doctor have been transcending their own humanness for ages; just look at Rose Tyler or Donna Noble or Clara Oswald. The Bad Wolf, the DoctorDonna, the Impossible Girl, mythical names for the mythical creatures they become after their adventures with the Doctor who allows them to glimpse the other side, to see beyond the veil and into the magical and mysterious. This year, however, it's not a long time companion, but a little boy with a cough who doesn't just transcend cognitively but physically as well. Grant may have had a slight cough but he came down with a case of levitation all in the span of one night. A single moment that changes his life forever.

Grant Gordon is a heady mix of Clark Kent (mild-mannered), a young Peter Parker (down on his luck), and Barry Allen (enthusiastic do gooder) all rolled into one giant DC/Marvel comic hero but his story is as old and as classic as it gets. A young boy is called off on an adventure of epic proportions by a mysterious stranger who grants unto him (accidentally because it's the Doctor....) strange and wondrous powers that he channels into helping New York City, saving children from burning buildings and rescuing reporters who fall into the wrong hands. If you're getting a major Superman feel then you're on the right track. After all, Superman is the iconic American hero in his red/blue uniform standing for individualism and self-determination. That's what I like so much about this year's Christmas outing--well, one of the things I like. As a lover of all things comic book-y, it was hard for me to not like this episode. But one of the strongest points is that this episode is about the superhero that resides in all of us. We need not swallow a magical gem of love and wishes to be super; Grant's actual act of superheroism isn't his ability to fly or his super strength. It's his super heart, the one that babysits a young baby so a mom can go to work; it's a heart that can't let go of the baby monitor for fear that something will happen to the tyke while he's working his night job. It's the super heart that loved comic book superheros and followed in their footsteps when he realized that his powers weren't going to pass. Lucy, the Lois to his Clark, put it's best when she wants him to don his superhero outfit and puts on his glasses, not his cape. At Christmas time, we're reminded that superheros come in all shapes and sizes and that we all have the ability to be one; we all have the capacity to have a good heart and stand up to corruption and greed and tyranny. Some years the Christmas episodes get a bit too schmaltzy, a bit too on the nose with their themes of hope and family. This one gracefully stepped back from those heavy handed tendencies and instead told the best story Doctor Who can tell. No Santa, no snowmen, no Victorian costumes, no tear inducing Christmas miracle; just a simple reminder of the special nature of humanity and what happens when we encounter the divine. What's more Christmas than that?

Miscellaneous Notes on The Return of Doctor Mysterio 

--The Doctor thought he was the first person to ever stumble on to the truth that Clark Kent and Superman are the same person. Bless.

--The alien invasion plan involved placing foreign and hostile brains into world leaders and staging a takeover from inside the system. I'm not saying this part of the narrative was a little bit inspired by Brexit and the 2016 American Presidential election but...this part of the narrative was inspired by Brexit and the 2016 American Presidential election.

--"You're kind of wet." "I prefer mild-mannered."

--I was surprised at how much I liked Nardole given that he was in last year's Christmas episode for a hot second and nothing more. He's unassuming and he didn't get in the way or really contribute except to point out the Doctor's loneliness which allows the Doctor to still play the hero but have responsibility to another which he will always need.

--"They have the same plan they always do--me!"

--"He never explained. Doctor Who?"

--Season 10 will likely start in the spring of 2017. It's Steven Moffat's final season before stepping down as showrunner. It's probably time for fresh and new blood to run the show but before then, one more season to see the universe anew!

In Which I Review Westworld (1x10)

These violent delights have violent ends. Since the beginning, Westworld has wanted us to question the nature of reality and consciousness. Who is real? What does real even mean? Is real born or made? Can it be achieved or is it a simple fact of being? I don't know that the season finale "The Bicameral Mind" got us any closer to those weighty questions but if several thousand years of philosophical debate didn't already solve them, then a 10-episode HBO show wasn't going to either. But let's give the little show credit for trying, yes? To say that Westworld is smart is an understatement. To say that it might be too smart seems more apt as, just from my perspective, I spend every week wrestling with some of the most daunting questions facing mankind. To say that Westworld takes these Herculean questions and manages to mix in plot, character, and pathos is to sum up the show perfectly. There was a whole lot-o-plot to be hand in this finale, but the show also answered its own questions on consciousness and whether or not the Hosts can achieve such a thing. In other words, Dolores is awake, angry, and packing heat--run. Hunker down, dig deep, and prepare to have a conversation with yourself and let's go!

Who is God? Yes, that's a fairly tough and heavy question right off the bat but given it's an important one not only for Westworld but for everyone, everywhere, at any time it seems relevant. If you were to put 100 people in a room and ask them the same-God question, you'd likely get 100 different answers with such characteristics as father, creator, wrathful, omnipotent, indifferent, caring, distant, near, nonexistent, ever present, and even the delightfully conflicting answers of real/not real and literal being/universal concept or force. God, then, is a void and we, the mortal and flawed human beings of this plant, fill up that void and create God however we want. There's a Biblical idea that most of you probably know: we are created in God's image and while that's a lovely idea but this is a case where I believe the opposite to be more accurate. We are not created in God's image; God is created in ours. If you live in a cruel and capricious part of the world and life is a constant, hard struggle, then your version of God is likely also cruel, mean spirited and decidedly unhelpful. If you live on a part of the globe where there's always plenty of food, life is sweet and good, then your God is probably seen as a wise parental figure who lifts up his creation instead of tearing them down. The God of your reality is a direct reflection on the reality of your situation and as such, God is a mirror for you, your life, and your community. To speak to God is to speak to your inner self, to discover your own consciousness. And that is exactly what Dolores did in this finale. Her awakening has been a long time coming, something teased and planted in brief moments throughout all ten episodes. It feels as though Dolores has been dancing on the edge of consciousness, veering toward center only to slide back to the outer edge, toward madness. This is the Maze. The winding paths and pitfalls of identity and consciousness. At the center, a great reward: the ability to talk to yourself, to see yourself as who you really are and to be unafraid at what this means for your future. At the edges, madness, losing consciousness and finding yourself in a never ending loop of trails that only lead further and further from your goal. None of this is to say that Dolores is God of the world--though it'll be interesting to see what the other Hosts make of her in her fully awakened state--but rather Dolores has freed herself from the construct that the humans, her creators, were her gods and has found her own inner divinity, her own consciousness. This series of events does beg the question of whether or not Dolores can stay within her newfound consciousness, though. After all, she's been here before; can't this be another loop? Is it another elaborate story of Ford's making in which Hosts are given the allusion of consciousness only to have it ripped away just when the story reaches its denouement? What's worse: losing your hard fought consciousness or realizing that what you thought was consciousness was only another series of game plays from someone who sees the entire chess board and not just one tiny square?

This question is at the heart of Maeve's story. What has looked like total and complete control--like being able to ignore voice commands and out think every human around her--turns out to be another elaborate game, another expertly written series of code that only gives the allusion of choice and freewill. Did Maeve really get off that train of her own accord or is this the next move on the chess board that ensures she'll never be free of the human's control? What if she had stayed on the train and managed to actually leave Westworld? Would that have signaled her true independence from the park? On the other hand, what does Maeve's choice to stay mean for internal identity? We know that the key to consciousness is suffering and Maeve's choice (pre-programmed choice?) to get off that train was motivated by the pain she felt over never seeing her "daughter" again. A choice to go and find her child, to be a family, to be whole once more feels pretty un-computer-code like, right? And yet, isn't that what makes Westworld so compelling; everything is computerized, everything is laid out in narrative form from start to finish with little to no surprises and improvisation and yet it looks and feels one hundred percent driven by choice and free will. Did Neo really break the Oracle's vase or did the Oracle cause the vase to break by putting the idea in Neo's head, to borrow from another popular science fiction reality bending series. Did Maeve choose to get off that train; did Dolores choose to kill Ford? Or did someone program them to make these choices as part of a new narrative, one in which they must play active parts? Ford's final speech about how his new narrative begins in a time of war, with a murder at the hands of a villain named Wyatt (with whom Dolores has merged, thanks to Arnold) sounds like a hint that Dolores is still not totally free. What if freedom itself is an allusion, another construct programmed into us by society and culture? Are you free, even if you believe yourself to be conscious? After all, I've never had a conversation with myself and if pressed I'm not sure I could define my identity in any clear and concise way. How do we know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Journey Into Night--Ford's new narrative--doesn't start exactly like this, with a Host being given the allusion of choice to commit a public and gruesome murder of the first God? That, my dear readers, is what season two needs to answer.

Miscellaneous Notes on The Bicameral Mind

--Sometimes the internet gets things right! William and the Man in Black are the same figure, after all.

--There was a ton of plot in this finale so just to make sure we're on the same page: Arnold, in his grief, wanted to find consciousness in his Hosts, beginning with Dolores, the Original Host. When Arnold realized that Dolores was alive, he fought with Ford about opening the Park. In order to save his creation, he programmed Dolores with Wyatt's storyline and had Dolores and Teddy kill every single Host in the Park. Dolores then killed Arnold and the loop began again. At some point, William came to the Park and met Dolores and began the adventure we saw, ending with Dolores back in the original "workshop" dying once more. Along the way, William realized he was a killer and ended up taking over Logan's company, by way of marriage, and becoming the principle shareholder in Westworld which allowed him unprecedented access to the Park. Yes?

--"Once you find it, you'll find your way back." This sounds really hopeful but it also sounds like someone defining the never ending loop Dolores and the Hosts live in. Is this show optimistic or pessimistic?

--This world does not belong to the humans but to "a new god...it belongs to someone yet to come."

--"Stories are lies to help us see truth."

--Westworld will return either in late 2017 or early 2018. See you then!

In Which I Review Once Upon a Time (6x10)

Who is Emma Swan? This question, both in a literal and a metaphorical sense, has been at the center of the show since the beginning. When we were introduced to Ms Swan, all those years and adventures ago, Emma was a self-defined orphan, loner, and troubled soul. Drifting from place to place, Emma never put down roots or formed attachments for fear of her heart breaking once more. In a literal sense, Emma's the Savior; even as a child, we've seen that Emma could tap into her magic when her emotions were heightened. Being the Savior is who Emma is; like she tells Hook, "in this case the cliche is true. I was born for this." In this week's episode, our last OUAT episode for 2016, "Wish You Were Here," Emma goes through a proverbial looking glass to see what life is like on the other side, to see what her life would have been like if she was not blessed/cursed with her cosmic importance. These questions of existence and Emma's cosmic importance have always resonated with me, so I was pleased to see the show explore these questions, if in a clunky, bizarre, and world deconstructing manner. However, I'm not so sure that any of this made a lick of sense and if I have previously lamented that this season so far has no point, then I shall revise my statement that instead of being aimless, its aim was to obfuscate and delay the real story (the Black Fairy) until the final moments of the winter finale. Make a wish and, for the final time this year, let's go!

The Upside Down

There are many questions that come with an alternate universe in storytelling and many of them I likely asked myself two years ago when OUAT delved into Isaac's penned manuscript. That version of shifted reality made enough sense to let the world feel like it could actually exist and any glaring faults in logic and character could easily be chalked up to Isaac's lack of skill and his own human folly in trying to create a world where heroes were villains and villains, heroes. This world--this wish-granted universe--does not have a saving grace like Isaac and, as such, I find myself wondering the writers even remember certain aspects of their mythology, their story, and the universe it resides in. This isn't to say that some aspects of Wish World weren't coherent; Emma growing up a princess who had everything she ever wanted and was beloved by family, friends, and subjects alike made perfect sense. Of course Emma's life would be radically different; not only would she be unmagical but she wouldn't be that scared, stunnted orphan who wished she wasn't alone on her twenty-eighth birthday. Emma's life is one of joy and wonder, unhampered by the concerns--both magical and mundane--that have followed her these six seasons. But there are other aspects of Emma's life that don't quite scan, as if they were attempts by the writers to curtail fan criticism at the head before anyone could angrily tweet their displeasure. One aspect in particular fails to make sense: Henry. I understand that the writers don't want to leave Jared Gilmore out and that there is a poetic nostalgia to Henry (kind of, sort of) being the one who makes Emma remember who she is once more, but Henry's existence in the Enchanted Forest of this AU makes little sense because nothing about him has changed. He's still the son of Nealfire, who either never went to Neverland or somehow made it back to the Enchanted Forest one hundred plus years later where he grew up, met Princess Emma and had a child with her before dying in some heretofore unexplained manner. I get that the writers are aiming for consistency with Henry--after all Henry can't literally exist if you change one of his parents--but in this warped AU, how am I to explain his conception, birth, and the death of one of his parents when the story of the universe has been so fundamentally altered?

Let's parse this out, shall we: if Emma was never the Savior and Storybrooke never existed, then Greg and Tamara never came to the sleepy town in Maine, never kidnapped Henry and never took him to Neverland at Peter Pan's insistence. If these events never happened then it follows that Peter Pan never followed the heroes back to Storybrooke and never met the sharp end of Rumple's dagger, taking his son into death with him. With me so far? If Rumple never sacrificed himself, declaring that villains don't get happy endings, and the Curse was never reverse cast, then the gang of heroes (minus Emma and Henry) never wooshed back to the Enchanted Forest where Neal and Belle were tricked by Lumiere and Zelena in to turning the key of the Dark One's Vault, thereby releasing Goo!Rumple and having Neal pay the ultimate price of resurrecting his father. This is the thing with AU's; you change one detail--be it little or big--and the whole narrative changes. A good writer has to account for those details, those ripples in the pond. Now, you could say that Nealfire died in some other manner and obviously before Henry was born given that this AU version of Henry doesn't know or remember Neal, but that opens a whole other narrative door that will not be answered given that the AU spell is broken, Emma remembers she's the Savior, and everyone (including Robin...uh, hi. Deal with you later) is about to head back to Storybrooke. You can try to rationalize this as a dream world and so everything has that hazy, not quite real feel of a dream, but that doesn't hold water any more than the AU itself does: Emma and Regina don’t leave the world by waking up–they (almost) take a very literal magic bean that created a very literal portal back to their very literal Storybrooke. That’s the problem. If this was a dream world, then the bases are covered and we can handwave away all the wonkyness. But it was never stated as such. Belle was still asleep when she went to dream world, her subconscious traveled. But Emma and Regina–their very bodies and beings–traveled to this AU. I'm not harping on this simply because Neal is involved; if anything, I'm delighted that the writers didn't try to change Henry's parentage to, say, Hook. I'm harping on this because these sorts of flaws are apparent in everything that happened this season.

Any internal, previously established logic, world building, narrative plot point, or in some cases character development, has flown the coop this year. This isn't the first year, but this is the first where I feel like the poor world building and attention to detail is actively destroying what could have been a very thought provoking, interesting, and meaty storyline. The idea of the Evil Queen coming to town and facing down a unified front, including Regina, and everyone having to battle their own demons feels like the final chapter in a long Hero's Journey. We've battled and defeated the agent of Death, now here comes Chaos Incarnate to upset our happy home. Emma defeating the Evil Queen--preferably by reintegrating her with Regina--and saving her own Saviorhood, as well as the home she previously tried to run away from, is the perfect end to her story. She's come home; she's come into herself. Emma accepted her own identity and everything she is--mother, daughter, Savior, witch, Dark One, Light One. A complete circle--round and round it goes, until we arrive back home. But that's not what happened. Instead the story devolved into pointless tangents--the Land of Untold Stories--that went nowhere and only built up more questions about doors and keys and unmentioned characters--which vanished once Jekyll and Hyde had been dispatched; Rumple and Belle's never ending angst and abusive relationship; the supposed resurrection of Robin; Charming's father; the Black Fairy, Gideon and previously unmentioned "darker realms;" Aladdin, Jasmine and Agrabah (with a side helping of totally pointless and uninteresting Jafar). What's wrong with having one solid, narratively complex story? Why not make this entire season about Emma's Saviorhood; keep the Evil Queen as Chaos Incarnate with a small helping of Jekyll and Hyde to provide commentary on the separation of self but drop everything else and focus on the core: Emma's internal struggle with this last bit of her journey--ultimate acceptance of herself. Maybe I'm asking too much; maybe I need to acknowledge that TV is a business and in order to write a 22-episode season, I need to expect a lot of rabbit trails and misdirection. But, I'm stubborn that way, and I know the sort of writing I want isn't impossible. It was called Season 1 and as many callbacks as this current season had to that season (this finale in particular) it's still a shell and shadow of what once was.

Miscellaneous Notes on Wish You Were Here

--I honestly didn't mean to make this review so short or lacking in the many plot lines that were happening this week. The problem is that there's nothing to say. Emma and Regina/the Evil Queen carried the bulk of the narrative while everyone else either stood around and fretted over what was happening or had absolutely nothing to do with the AU at all and thus didn't really fit into the review proper.

--The Black Fairy raised Gideon to be a monster and I guess that's where the next half of this season is going. Alright then. Also, this is a total Angel/Holtz/Conner rip off, right?

--I still don't care one iota about Aladdin and Jasmine and their journey to Agrabah (what if it's at the bottom of the sea! Did they even think about that?)

--“What are you gonna do…throw a fireball at yourself?”

--Normally the show’s costumes are on point, but Aladdin’s genie outfit is horrid

--Regina literally runs up to a group of dwarves and asks where Emma is without even pausing to question which type of world she’s in. She knows it can’t be present; if it’s the past, no dwarf is going to trust her; and if it’s a reality where Emma wasn’t the Savior, then it follows that she’s a defeated Evil Queen and, again, no one would trust her!

--There’s a literal KEY TO THE KINGDOM??? What nonsense is that?

--So, where was Zelena this week?

--I have very little to say about Robin Hood coming back. He's not been brought back to life in the same way Hook was brought back in S5 but it speaks to something I mentioned above: the writers trying to placate the fans by giving them what they think they want. They keep doing this; there's a difference between listening and hearing. What the writers hear is that people were upset at Robin's death; what they aren't listening to are the reasons why. It goes beyond OutlawQueen.

--“Nothing makes sense. Anything is possible.” This is like the most literal description of this show since S3B I’ve ever heard.

--So, as is tradition, how about some thoughts on season 6A as a whole? I guess it's safe to say that I wasn't really a fan of this first half. It's not that it was bad in the same way S5A was bad--which rubbed against me morally, ethically, and as a feminist. It was bad because it didn't matter; there were so man stories going on at once but none of them got any sort of real attention or focus because apparently everything is happening next year. That is one way to write, but I don't believe it's a good way. We got no further explanations for the Land of Untold Stories (keys! doors! people go there a lot apparently!) because once Jekyll and Hyde died, that story and those ideas/people exited stage left to the metaphorical Forgotten Character Island. Jekyll and Hyde themselves, while well acted, never felt like a real threat because they were kept either off screen or locked up, making snarky comments at anyone who visited. The Evil Queen was supposed to be the real threat this first half and it's true she managed to create some small measure of chaos (like with Snowing) but for someone who was was conceived as "totally evil" she was left mostly to make witty comments, kiss Rumple, and lament with Zelena. The fact that the Evil Queen was out getting manicures like it was an ordinary day and she had nothing better to do is downright bizarre. Regina, in the first season, did more dastardly and "Evil Queen" things to Emma than the actual Evil Queen did to anyone this year! The Evil Queen's storyline also continued the maddening insistence that all evil/fallen women must somehow be sexually aggressive. More time was spent on her making out and flirting with Rumple than any long game she was playing against her real enemies; and this was not out of affection or genuine interest or even because sex is great and fun, but because in the minds of the writers, if a woman is evil then she must also be predatory in a sexual nature. It's a gross trope and it needs to go away already. The other major storyline this year was Aladdin and the idea of Saviorhood but like the Land of Untold Stories and Jekyll and Hyde it went basically nowhere. In this case, it's likely because it's going to come up next year, but that doesn't mean that some decent amount of time shouldn't be spent at least exploring those ideas. Do you know why Aladdin is a Savior? I don't. Do you care about his story, Jasmine's story or anything to do with them? I don't. Instead of laying groundwork into one of the biggest mythological constructs in the Onceiverse--the idea of Saviorhood--Aladdin simply appeared when needed, helped Emma see the light, and then became a genie. Along the way we got still more stories that were teased before dropped like a hot potato for next year--like Charming's father, the Black Fairy, and even Gideon. This isn't to say that there weren't good moments or ideas here. Lana Parilla got to act her socks off playing both the Evil Queen and Regina; Snowing's centric episode was a delightful reminder of how powerful their love story is. Little things like costume, some of the CGI and witty one-liners remain a staple of the good parts of this show, but that's part of the problem: only the little things remain.

Final Rating for Season 6A: C

Final Episode Ranking for Season 6A (least to favorite) 

10. Street Rats (6x5)
9. Changelings (6x9)
8. Wish You Were Here (6x10)
7. The Savior (6x1)
6. A Bitter Draught (6x2)
5. The Other Shoe (6x3)
4. I'll Be Your Mirror (6x8)
3. Dark Waters (6x6)
2. Strange Case (6x4)
1. Heartless (6x7)

See everyone in March!

In Which I Review Westworld (1x8 and 1x9)

At one point during episode eight, "Trace Decay," Dolores, frantic from visions of a distant past in which hundreds were murdered seemingly before her eyes, says to William "It's like I'm trapped in a memory of a life time ago." Memories can haunt us; regrets, good and bad decisions, choices that we made (and choices that were made for us) inform our very psyche. Without our memories, without our experiences, we are less than our natural, self aware selves. Isn't it interesting, then, that the best way to reset a Host--to make then pliable and ready for a new story--is to erase their memories of their previous lives? That is to say that without those specific sets of memories a specific person fails to exist. Their consciousness is lost unto the ether. It's a perfect system, this computer enhanced Westworld one. When one story--when one person--becomes tedious, simply delete it and upload another. The problem, as we are discovering, is that when the Hosts do remember--as more and more of them are--the memories they uncover are violent, horrible, and brutal; moreover, unlike human memories which are foggy and hazy, coated in subjective viewpoints and opinions, the Hosts seem to remember things perfectly. Every detail is exact, making it all the more (wait for it) real. Imagine knowing exactly what your child's hand in yours felt like only to then remember that you don't have a child at all. Memories are largely at play for episode 8 which then dovetails nicely into episode 9, "The Well-Tempered Clavier." We're reaching journey's end and hopefully we don't have a trigger logged in our spinal base set to explode if we cross the threshold (eek!) so let's go! 

In these reviews, I have discussed at length such questions about what makes someone real, what makes someone complex and what if reality is only based on how others see you, but it's Doctor Ford who gives what is either the most uplifting or most depressing answer, depending on your current status, to all these questions. When it comes to what separates us from the machines, the Hosts of Westworld, there is no threshold, there is no magic line in the sand that clearly distinguishes Human from Host. "We cannot," Doctor Ford says "define consciousness because it doesn't exist." On the one hand, as a human being with a human's perspective, this is pretty terrifying! Of course consciousness must exist; isn't that what separates us from the animals or from, say, this laptop on which I am writing this review (note to self: disable my Cortana when I'm done writing this review...). I have independent thought; I make choices based on my own self-interest and the interests of others; I fear my own death and the end of my existence; I can contemplate (with varying degrees of success) the universe, the heavens, gods and devils, and mankind's own wonderfully flawed state of being. How could I not be a conscious being? For Ford, who had spent his entire adult life working to make Hosts as human like as possible, what we see as consciousness is really just another loop. Do we really make choices or are they made for us? Recall a few episodes back when Maeve thought she was in control of her own words and thoughts but when viewed on an iPad she saw that her words were part of an elaborate code someone had designed. She gives the allusion of independence and improvisation, but all of it is a lie. By that token consciousness is a lie, one humanity is happy to oblige and turn a blind eye to. Rarely do we question our choices and more often than not, we are happy to be told what to do. However, while this perspective is terrifying from a human's perspective, from the Host's viewpoint (such as Bernard who is undergoing one hell of a existential life crisis) it must be comforting. If they begin to question their own consciousness, humans can simply say that thing which they seek does not exist. Period, end of story. However, what does this mean for Maeve who, by the looks of things, has not only just discovered her own consciousness but evolved past even man's ability to use it.

I don't know about you, my dear readers, but I feel like Maeve just became a god. That's a tricky word so it's helpful here to pause and define god, and it's even more helpful to define god vis a vis the other "types" in the show. We have, first and perhaps at the bottom, Hosts. They have only an illusion of control over their stories and their lives. They (most) are not self aware that they are living in a park/game. Any action they cause can be undone or is irrelevant but all actions acted toward them "count" (ie: they can be killed.) Then, we have the humans who have control over the world and can be both the actors and the subjects. They are self-aware of their surroundings but outside of game play there is little they can do to alter the world unless they work for Westworld and even then we've seen the bureaucracy that runs the park. Finally we have the "gods." These are the types that can change the world at will; they are actors predominately and moreover they need little to no permission to change the world. The ability to manipulate the world with just a glance or a spoken word is something that no ordinary mortal can do, save Doctor Ford whom we've seen control hosts and the landscape (like a snake) with just a flick of wrist or a quick whisper. In these moments he's often come across as a Merlin in a realm of Muggles or, in a really extreme simile, like God wandering through the Garden of Eden. Several instances in the latest episode have Ford actually using language that invokes the Biblical, like claiming he and Arnold built the Hosts "in our image." The park workers have special phrases (magical spells, ritual, incantations, if you will) that will put a Host to sleep or stop the narrative if they want, but the ability to change the story midstream is unprecedented, especially from a Host.  This awakening of Maeve's makes me wonder if this is where the ultimate story is going: granting this divine, omnipotent power to humans so that they can ascend beyond their own mortal abilities to control the stories and the people in those stories. Imagine, for example, if the President of the United States had the ability to change the world or defeat his enemies with just a thought; if he didn't need Congress or the SCOTUS. Some might think that sounds just dandy but now imagine that the USA's enemies have the exact same power. It's war on a totally unprecedented level and with Maeve setting out to form an army, she might give the Man in Black a run for his diabolical money.

The god question dovetails nicely into Bernard as the newly revealed Host is exploring his new self-awareness. For Maeve it's about testing her new found omnipotence. For Bernard it's about the most basic question: who am I? If Bernard's identity was complicated before, then it's almost impossible now. Bernard is modeled on Arnold or rather is an homage to Arnold. It might even be fitting to say that Bernard is Arnold; he's such an accurate simulacrum that the image stops being mere image and because the thing he's modeled after. Ford built him to be a more perfect version of his former partner and Bernard's journey toward meeting Arnold is actually a journey toward self-hood, one that ends tragically. There is a line from the first Star Trek movie that has been floating in my head since I saw the ninth episode, "The Well-Trained Clavier;" the context of that movie is that a machine--a probe--gains sentience after being taken under wing (so to speak) by other sentient machines but, like so many creatures are wont to do, it eventually makes the journey home with the intention of meeting its creator. The line from the movie that haunts me, and haunts Bernard, is "longing to touch the creator. To ask is this all that I am? Is there nothing else." It's one of the most human responses there is. Whether or not you believe in some powerful entity called God or you believe in a just "the cosmos" at some point everyone begins to question their identity and their purpose. Why am I here? Who am I? Why was I put on this planet? What role to do I play in the narrative? This is what Bernard wants to do; he wants to touch and join with his creator. The problem arises that Arnold did not build Bernard but rather Ford; and Ford has zero time for Hosts that want to become sentient. Consciousness may not exist in Ford's world, but Dr. Ford is still the ultimate God of said world and because he built Bernard, he has every right to do what he wants to Bernard's mind, even end it. Sometimes touching your creator isn't exactly all it's cracked up to be. Bernard fails to achieve godhood; instead, he's just another sad self-aware machine, being told to shoot himself in the head by his creator.

Miscellaneous Notes on Trace Decay and The Well-Tempered Clavier 

--My review could theoretically go on for ages, but some things really must be saved for the notes! It's become increasingly clear that the show is playing with multiple time streams. This is easiest to see with Dolores. When she's in her dress, it's the far past when Arnold and Ford were setting up the park. When she's in her dress shirt and pants, with a stomach wound, it's roughly thirty years ago (I'll explain that in a second) and, finally, when she's in the same outfit but without the stomach wound, it's present day. How do we know? I think the internet's most famous theory about Westworld is absolutely true--William is the Man in Black on his first park visit. Almost like a goose flying home after winter, Dolores keeps taking the journey back to the original homestead. Now, what prompted this present day adventure? I'd say it was the photograph she found in the pilot that triggered her self-awareness. We shall see!

--"If it's such a wonderful place out there, why are you all clamoring to get in here?"

--Maeve will begin the robot revolution by slowly opening the eyes of all the robots with the potential for sentience. Is there any Host who is lacking in such potential?

--I think I'm really confused as to where Teddy and Wyatt's story fits in, hence why I talk so little about it.

--"A little trauma can be illuminating."

--Dolores killed Arnold. Was it because he opened her mind to sentience? Is that what the Maze is--a way for the Hosts to gain sentience? It would explain why the Man in Black keeps being told it's not for him. He is already sentient, Westworld showed him what sort of man he is.

--"Who am I?" "That's a complicated question..." #SeriesTheme!

In Which I Review Once Upon a Time (6x9)

Readers, I have a question for you. Do you believe there comes a point when a character has crossed so many lines, done untold amount of ill, and caused so much pain and suffering that there is simply no way back for him? That any hope of forgiveness or redemption is long gone and the only road left to take is to descend into even lower depths of villainy? In short, can Heisenberg ever be Walter White again? I'm asking because I realized tonight, watching Rumplestiltskin--a character I loved from the first moment I saw the Pilot and have defended a lot, though not recently--that I officially can't even stomach the Imp's presence on screen. Don't mistake me; Bobby Carlyle is a gift to the acting world and even with the poor and shoddily written material, he manages to imbue Rumple with a certain amount of tortured pathos, but the Rumple I once knew, loved, and cherished is long gone and this...vile creature left is hard to watch. No. Worse than hard to watch. He's impossible to watch. It's hard to approach a review for an episode like "Changelings" which left such a gross taste in my mouth, but why not. Let's go!

Is Your Mama A Llama?

Back in season three, audiences were introduced to a creature called the Black Fairy. She existed off screen (a lot of things exist there, come to think about it). This Fairy was supposedly dark and dangerous, but she had a magic wand that could help out the heroes in their fight against Pan so the character was created, though no one was the wiser about who she was apart from the Blue Fairy who, as official Exposition Ex Machina, could tell the tale. I'm bringing this up because in tonight's episode it's revealed that Rumple's mother is, in fact, that same Black Fairy. To some extent, this is an interesting development and it does help inform Rumple's character, though after six years you'd think something as basic as parentage and relationship with said parents would have been covered and with some degree of depth, but I digress. This reveal means that both Rumple's parents abandoned him, that both parents left him for less than noble reasons--the pursuit of power over love, the pursuit of immortality over love. Is it any wonder why Rumple think he's not just a difficult man to love, but an impossible man to love? Anyone who is supposed to love him--his mother, his father, his wife, his son, his second wife, his second son--leave him. In Rumple's eyes they either don't give him a chance and/or don't accept him for who he wants to be (a Dark One with lots of dark magical power) and so the implication is that he's unlovable. There's a lot of great character work in there and it used to be what made Rumple so complicated and nuanced. He wasn't so much a black hat as a victim of the cycle of abandonment in a socio-economic world that made it next to impossible for him to be in control of his own life or of those loved ones around him. That lack of control over his own destiny is what made him, famously, a desperate soul. In short, I don't mind the reveal that the Black Fairy is Rumple's mother--though this raises a host of questions about biology and magic given that Rumple is half fairy (which means Bae is a quarter fairy, and Henry an eighth) and also raises questions about how a mortal and fairy managed to have sex and deliver a child without the Blue Fairy knowing when Nova and Dreamy couldn't even go on a date, but again I digress. What I mind is the total lack of foreshadowing and how very fan service-y this feels. For years, people have hounded the writers about the Black Fairy (who is she? Will we ever see her? Will we get her story?) and, at the same time, pestered the writers about Rumple's mother (who is she? Will we ever see her? Will we get her story?). Given that the show does not have long to live, though another season seems guaranteed, it's time to answer those questions in the quickest, easiest and most efficient manner possible, no matter how clumsily it comes across. So there you go: the Black Fairy is also Rumple's mother who abandoned him upon birth and neither Rumple nor Belle ever mentioned it when the Black Fairy was brought up previously.

I won't linger on the Black Fairy issue but I do still have problems with the flashbacks, namely the status of the Rumbelle ship every time the writers pay a visit to the Dark Castle and Belle's time there. In "Skin Deep" it was easy to see how Belle could fall for Rumple. He opened himself up and let Belle see the man under the beast. There was genuine affection and trust on both parts. It's what made that episode so compelling and watchable, the slow and careful transformation of both parties toward each other. However, let's examine the general plot of the flashbacks this week. Rumple steels an innocent infant, manipulates Belle into reading Fairy (wut?) and then takes the child in the dead of night to meet with the most devious Fairy of all time in order to strike some sort of detente or bargain--information for child. And, yet, I am still expected to believe that Belle, having borne witness to all of this, fell madly and completely in love with Rumple. Apparently the imminent danger the baby was in mattered not in the long run. You know, people joke about Stockholm Syndrome with regards to Beauty and the Beast, but even this is a bit much. It's not just this incident; it's all the incidents stacked up on top of each other--it's torturing Robin Hood and using a baby. It's verbally assaulting her and mocking her without the playful tones in his voice. It's all of this terrible weight that makes the Rumbelle ship look not just unstable and abusive now in present day, but completely impossible in the past! I used to understand why Belle fell for Rumple in the Dark Castle, and not just because it's mandated by the Great Mouse, but because she saw that he was a scared, lonely, damaged man who had suffered greatly in his long life. But now Belle comes across as more than simple and naive; she comes across not as someone who can't tell the difference between right and wrong, but as someone who simply doesn't care about right and wrong in the long run. What does it matter that Rumple tortured Robin Hood when she got a library in the end? What does it matter that Rumple put a baby--a BABY--in harms way when he caught her as she slipped off a ladder? If these assaults on the once good ship Rumbelle weren't bad enough, we now have to turn to the present day where things are, if you can believe it, worse.

Welcome Baby Gideon! Your Life Sucks. 

Toward the end of the episode, Rumple tells Belle that he'd "never hurt her. Ever." This is utter nonsense but let's look at the context. Belle has just given birth, approximately seven months ahead of schedule, and has sent her only child away with the Blue Fairy (of all the creatures you'd entrust a child with....) while her husband, and supposed true love, tries to track down his laboring wife in order to steal their child, cut the child's cord of fate/destiny/whatever you want to call it, in order to force said child into loving him. This is what the writers have done to Rumple and Belle. This is such a hot abusive mess--and while that is hard to admit and even harder to watch--that hot mess would be fine if the writers knew they were writing a hot abusive mess with a clear moral message behind it. Even something as simple as "this is what abuse looks like, kids!" would get a nod of approval, but instead they wrap it up in Rumple's self-confidence issues and try to normalize it as everyday romantic angst, which it most assuredly is not. There are so many problems that it's hard to know where to start. Rumple's belief that he'd never hurt Belle is nothing more than empty words because abuse isn't just physical; it's mental and emotional and for two seasons or so, Rumple has done next to nothing but be mentally and emotionally abusive and even if he can't see that--even if he thinks he's always done what he thought was best--for the writers to put words like that in a characters mouth and not have anyone call him on it (even if Belle is too feeble to do so there are others in the room) is egregious. Looking at Belle, however, her constant waffling about Rumple is grating. In the span of five minutes in this week's episode, Belle declared loud and proud that she was never going back to Rumple only to tell him to his face that if he hurt her and their son (which she knows he has EVERY intention of doing!) he'd "lose her forever" as if her mind wasn't already made up. I don't want to blame the victim, but Belle's inconsistency is the only thing constant about her in recent years and it almost--almost--makes me sympathize with Rumple and his downward spiral. As exhausting as he is, so too is she. There is no positive way to spin this; Rumple and Belle getting back together and trying again for whatever reason--true love, Rumple says he's sorry, Rumple gives up power, Belle changes her mind for the millionth time, for the sake of their infant son--isn't good enough to erase the level of damage these two have undergone. Maybe it's best if baby Gideon stays away for good; maybe it's for the best that he never know either his mother or his father. And maybe it's for the best that Rumple dies and Belle leaves town forever and ever. However, as I'm sure will happen sooner rather than later now that we have a bonafied genie in our camp....wishes rarely work out the way we expect.

Miscellaneous Notes on Changelings

--"Wingless glow worm."

--So fate really does exist for everyone? It’s a literal thing that can be cut, modified, changed, and un-fated?  But what if you’re not magical or what if you’re fated to just leave a normal, every day life? Do peasants have lines like this? Can they be cut by the shears?

-- Regina’s heart controls the Evil Queen? And she hasn’t put this into practice until this very moment? Like she didn’t bother to use this trick when the Evil Queen was threatening Snowing? Or literally at any point during these first 8 episodes?

--Aladdin is now the Genie. Okay, sure. Probably not a great idea to have a magical wish-granting Genie around when there is also a malevolent Dark One and a sociopathic Evil Queen, but whatever. I’m sure if I cared about Aladdin that’d matter to me.

--Anyone got a read on when these flashbacks take place?

--–Blue can pop into Rumple’s Dark Castle and free Belle…but she couldn’t free Belle from Regina’s prison…?

--I’m really excited to not see Jennifer Morrison fake shake anymore.

--Next week is the Winter Finale! One big question as we cross that threshold: was there a point to this half-season?

In Which I Review Westworld (1x7)

Over the past few episodes, we've pondered how you know you're alive and how you know you're complex, but it's time to take yourself out of the equation and consider other people. How do you know your peers, the people you spend your days with, and even the strangers on the street, are real human beings? What sort of characteristics allow you to look at a creature and declare, absolutely, that they were born and not made in a laboratory. Let's face it; you can't, not when they are so magnificently constructed as the Hosts in Westworld. Everything about the Hosts is intended to fool you; they are designed specifically for the purpose of mimicking life and humanity and when you have such exquisite code and science at work, it's almost impossible to tell a Host from a Guest. Or, in this case, from a Park Worker. I had a running list of people I thought might be secret Hosts but Bernard was not one of them. He seemed too...human. In this week's episode "Trompe L'Oeil" the tables are turned and the audience gets an eye opening look at just how duplicitous Westworld can be. Watch out for the Ghost Nation and let's go!

In art, a trompe l'oeil is a painting or design that is intended to create the illusion of a three-dimensional object. It's a trick that allows the viewer to see something that isn't really there; that isn't even real. It's a highly constructed illusion in which the only one in on the secret is the creator himself. Bernard is our hidden trompe l'oeil. Since the beginning, Bernard has felt like a real human, which is an odd statement to make given that I'm reading him through the medium of TV and am not interacting with him in any real way. But, real he felt. Bernard's personality and backstory were grounded in traits we find in our own reality all the time--the mourning father, the curious scientist, a philosopher, a lover, and an ex-husband. What really complicates the reveal that Bernard is a Host is that he has a distinct set of memories and, moreover, memories that have allowed him interaction with supposed outsiders. We've seen Bernard talking with his ex and we see Bernard in a dream-flashback with his son in a hospital. I have to ask about Ford's intentions with Bernard because while I find it incredibly plausible that Ford would be a controlling god with his stories, going the extra mile to create that much backstory for Bernard is almost overkill. Except, of course, would you--and everyone working at Westworld--have thought Bernard as real as he appeared if he didn't have this elaborate--and all too real--backstory? If Bernard had been devoid of any family, any pain, any pathos, that would have raised some serious red flags and I have to pause here and ask: is this how we define humanism? Is it less about physical and biological components and more about your perception of the world? If you believe you are real, then are you? Bernard did not know he was a Host, just like with all the other Hosts, but upon learning that he is a man-made machine, his reaction is one of denial: "I can't be one of them;" as if there is something truly tangible separating him--a Host--from the birthed humans. This brings us to Doctor Ford and his desire to "tell his stories." Is Doctor Ford really just an author who is encumbered by a hostile audience and an even more hostile publisher (the fat-cat board that is poised to descend at any moment)? There were a lot of mentions of Ford's empire this week, as if Westworld isn't the only park and not the only plum in Ford's pie and it's difficult to imagine that Ford is just a simple author if he has a massive empire with sacred intellectual property (which is what the board is after as Ford often threatens to wipe all that data away with a wave of his hand). What if Westworld is another illusion, like Bernard? It's not simply a resort for bored humans to explore their darker (deeper) selves but while it's a park and I think Ford genuinely wants to tell stories and play with his toys and enjoy his status as god-on-earth--though in such a way that is controlling and Machiavellian--Charlotte's agenda (and her compatriots agenda) is now the new big mystery. Why do they need this data? I very much doubt it's for altruistic humanitarian reasons. I am wondering how far this technology that Ford has perfected can go; if we can create an artificial being that resembles in almost every way a real creature, can we someone make a real human being superior by mixing them with artificiality? Are we looking at transporting consciousness into a robotic perfect body? A kind of immortality.

There was a line William delivered to Dolores after their train sex escapades: Westworld does not reveal your basest self, but instead your deepest self and I have to wonder if the show is trying to tell its audience that there is no difference between the two. What I mean to say is that humans are constructed not only by all the internal factors like biology and chemistry but also by factors like society and culture and propriety. All societies and cultures have rules that you are expected to follow and to break one is to descend into anarchy. We have taboos for a reason. For example, almost universally, killing ones parents is amoral because it's considered wrong for any number of reasons--parents are owed respect, taking any life is a crime, religious reasons. Along those same lines, crimes like murder, adultery, and gratuitous hedonism are seen as amoral or, simply put, bad. How do we know they are bad? Your biology doesn't tell you that they are wrong; in some cases, like adultery, your biology might actually tell you it's right and good. It's society and culture. They dictate a large part of your identity and the face you show the world is the face society wants to see, the face they demand you wear. So what happens when we take society and its rules away? Does mankind descend into anarchy and back to a primal, animalistic way of life? Or are human beings capable of rising above their baser instincts and being "good" even when society isn't looking? This, for those who are curious, is the bare bones argument between philosophers like Rousseau, Hobbes, and Locke. Westworld is a society that is free of society's rules. Yes, there are rules and rulers inside the game--law enforcement, cowboys, Confederados, ect--but those rules are part of the narrative and not "real" in the outside world. Moreover, the natural laws like restrictions against murder are set aside for the guests; in fact, breaking those rules is encouraged and is considered the best part of the park. You want to murder a few savages, sleep with a few prostitutes, and go on a lawless spree? Go for it. No one is going to stop you and there are no consequences. The show is taking a Hobbsian gaze in this regard: "Homo homini lupus est;" Man is a wolf to another man. However, there are oddities like William, a man who has felt the pull of being the Wolf and even given into it occasionally, but he is trying to remain social upright and moral (the counterargument here is that William giving into his desire for Dolores and considering her to be more real than his life outside the park). To be honest, I don't know which way the show is going and here it's helpful to look at the world outside of the park; we have a totalitarian ruler (Ford) who has the power of life and death over his underlings with seemingly no consequences (do we really think Therese is the first victim) all of which operate within a society with rules, hierarchy, and a system that is failing to uphold any social mores. In other words, the anarchy that can be found in Westworld is seeping out into the real and manifesting there. Charlotte can loudly screw a Host in her room; Therese can take part in corporate espionage and Ford decides who lives, who dies, and who's story gets told. And this, perhaps, is the philosophical point of Westworld, the show. That rules or no rules, society or no society, real or not real, man is a wolf to another man.

Miscellaneous Notes on Trompe L'Oeil 

--I don't know how to speculate when it comes to this show. I know the internet is rife with theories and ideas about what is going on, but the field on this show is so extensive that it's hard for me to get a proper handle on it. If you've read my reviews for any show, you know I'm far more interested in discussing morality and cosmology.

--However, Westworld was renewed for a second season, so I do need to start looking at the big picture. Hopefully, I can do that in piecemeal over the next few reviews.

--RIP Therese. RIP Clementine. And, to some extent, RIP Bernard! Will he remember that he's a Host after this? Also, what sort of light does this shed on his many behind closed doors interactions with Dolores?

--Maeve has become so self aware that she no longer freezes on command when the men-in-suits come for Clementine.

--The Reveries are responsible for the Hosts retaining some of their more traumatic memories; this falls on Dr. Ford's shoulders but I gotta wonder--who gave him the idea?

--"Surviving is just another loop."

--"The longer I work here the more I think I understand the Hosts. It's the human beings who confuse me."

--Okay, HBO-fanatics; what's sadder: "Hold the door" or "What door?"

In Which I Review Once Upon a Time (6x8)

Mirror, mirror on the wall, what land is the most under developed of them all? To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure how to talk about this week's episode, "I'll Be Your Mirror." There is certainly a lot of potential here; the Evil Queen views herself as a strong leader, someone who gets the job done, moral consequences be damned. As an American, hot off a turbulent political election, this strikes a major chord with me. This relative morality (a concept often hammered home in OUAT) is extended this week to our littlest Charming, Henry. Can the boy with the heart of the truest believer turn dark side--or at least take a step off that precipice--if it means he can save his mothers? But in the midst of all this potential, we have a frustratingly opaque world with rules that don't quite make sense and a philosophy that doesn't match what we've been told or shown in the most recent past (though, ironically, it does match a more distant past view of light and dark). These issues constantly threaten to pull you out of your enjoyment and understanding of the episode, which is why I'm so often harsher on decent episodes that do have interesting moral quandaries. See; hard to talk about! Was it good? Or have we moved beyond "good" and "bad" when it comes to OUAT? Are we just trying to reach a finish line? I don't know, but we've got two episodes left this first half of season six and it's time to start wrestling with this (ahem) dragon of a plot (see what I did there?) Grab a mirror and let's go!

Turn To The Dark Side, Young Swan-Mills 

Would Henry ever go dark? That's a question with which the show has wrestled before. In season three he agreed to give Peter Pan his heart when he believed magic was dying; in season four he seriously considered writing his father back to life before the Apprentice convinced him it was a bad idea, and in season five he, first, almost did write Cruella back to life so that Emma wouldn't have to live with the moral consequences of having killed the De'vil and, second, destroyed magic so that his family wouldn't get hurt anymore. These actions are not evil, per se, but they do exist in a morally grey area. Peter Pan was pretty clearly manipulating Henry (Wendy Bird and all) and Henry saw first hand what happened if an Author tried to write a story the way he wanted instead of recording them as they actually happened. Henry's viewpoint is that he's, first and foremost, concerned with his family, their happiness and their general well-being. Perhaps more than anyone else, Henry understands how much this family needs each other. At the tender age of 11, Henry went out to find his birth mother because he believed, whole-heartedly that his family was cursed and that it was up to his Savior of a mother to save them all. The family needs each other and likewise Henry needs them. He's only thirteen, after all (though, a thirteen year old watching nothing but John Hughes films makes me question what decade the writers room is living in. Are they also trapped in a curse?). Henry still has some growing up to do and despite Emma and Regina by episode's end believing that they've done their job in raising him, Henry needs his mothers tender loving care. Henry has girl questions and school functions that terrify him. He still has to graduate college! Henry will never not need Regina and Emma--we all need our mothers, all the time. The show hasn't ever minced words about the way our mothers affect us so it comes as no surprise that when faced with a decision to save his mothers, even at the cost of an innocent life, Henry actually stops and considers what the right and what the best course of action is. It's much like Emma in season four when she killed Cruella; she did not do it maliciously, but out of a mother's protective nature to save her son from a woman who literally skins dogs and wears them as coats (I miss Cruella). The internal conflict with Henry was interesting but also a bit underwhelming given that I didn't, for a second, think the writers would actually have him kill the Dragon. The writers like to keep Henry in the ultimate good alignment. He can be tipped toward lawfully just but he always rebounds back to his preferred state of "Heart of the Truest Believer" and "Ultimate Do-Gooder." What's slightly more interesting is that the Evil Queen is so hell bent on getting Henry to her side. Is it really Henry she's after, or is her true impetus about loneliness?

Two Of A Kind

Is the Evil Queen really evil? I know, that seems like a dumb question; after all, the name really gives it away, right? It's what Regina named herself in the Enchanted Forest of the past once she accepted certain aspects of herself. For the first few episodes, the Evil Queen came across as that most evil and malicious parts of Regina. She reveled in wanting to watch the family tear themselves apart but as time has gone on, the Evil Queen is channeling more of her mother-- that love is a weakness and a weapon but is not pure unadulterated evil. This doesn't quite scan with what the writers said early on in interviews this summer, but since we rarely tackle these outside forces in my reviews, let's let sleeping dogs lie and we'll try to speculate why the Evil Queen is turning less chaotic evil and more lawful evil (sort of, the alignments here are tricky). It's my belief that, at the end of the day, the Evil Queen is more lonely than she is evil. The first indication of this is the Evil Queen's relationship with Zelena. If the Evil Queen really was so determined to destroy everyone, that would include Zelena; they were enemies of a sort in season three when Zelena tried to make it so Regina was never born, which would mean the Evil Queen would never exist at all. But instead, the Evil Queen sought her out to befriend her; they've even had a spa date. But now there's a rift, a tiny tear between the sisters largely because of Zelena's jealousy over the (totally disgusting) nature of the Queen and Gold. In other words, there's a hole that needs filled, a desire to have someone to whom the Evil Queen can relate and she'd much rather stick within her own family. Enter Henry. If the Queen could corrupt Henry, she'd have someone who would understand her, be like her, sympathize with her, and even help her. And, the cherry on top, it'd be someone she does love in whatever way she understands love. When Henry rejects her, the Queen is left with one choice: Rumple. And lo, we get another horrible display of kissy faces between the two that makes me want to claw my eyes out. It's not love between them; but it is mutual understanding. These two live in the darkness, they feed on it. And when the people they want--Zelena/Henry and Belle--reject them, they are left with just each other. As ugly and as tortured and as skin crawling as it is, it's what they are left with. What Rumple gets out of this remains to be seen. The Evil Queen wants a family--a remnant feeling left over from Regina--but Rumple? I think his plans with the Evil Queen are far more nefarious. With only two episodes left to go, I get the feeling it's going to only get harder to watch Rumple.

Miscellaneous Notes on I'll Be Your Mirror 

--I chose to not point out all the logistic problems with the Mirror World in the review proper but let's talk about them now. I think it’s a bit of a wasted potential. We’ve seen what mirror images can do to our characters–like S4 with Belle looking into Ingrid’s mirror and seeing an “opposite” Belle, of sorts. I think this more than anything should have been played up, instead of just a barren landscape with lots of mirrors. Also, confusingly, for some reason magic doesn't work there and even though Regina tells us that the mirrors in Mirror World are only one way, we also learn that Sydney lived in Mirror World and we know he and Regina easily communicated for years. I also have no idea how putting one mirror back together was supposed to aid in escaping but the show got around that by having a MacGuffin.

--And in this week’s “random MacGuffin” category we have: the Hammer of Hephaestus! Feel free to make up your own story as to why Rumple has that.

--The montage of Snow/Charming asleep and awake was seriously adorable.

--The EQ doesn’t consider herself evil, but a strong leader who does what is necessary. What's the difference? If a leader kills thousands or if a leader disenfranchises huge swaths of people to appease a majority and the "others" live in terror of him, is the leader merely Machiavellian or evil? Asking for a nation friend.

--“Family makes you stronger than you’ll ever be alone.” AKA: how to sum up the themes of OUAT in one sentence.

--The Dragon lost a daughter. It’s Lily isn’t it?

--Place your bets now: who is in the lamp? I say it's Jafar.

--No new episode next week, so see everyone in two!

In Which I Review Westworld (1x6)

Over the past few reviews, we've asked ourselves how you know you're real and how you know you're complex so here's another question to befuddle and confuse: what traits make you up and is it possible to quantify those traits in relation to each other? Westworld certainly thinks so; it can assign numbers to discernible traits like compassion, intelligence, and  humor with the intention of creating the perfect character. The head of a whore house should be extra perceptive and charming but maybe less introspective. What happens, then, when the characters begin to examine themselves and decide what level of each trait they have? In this week's episode, "The Adversary," Maeve takes center stage and we--and Maeve herself--try to figure out what makes her tick. The question of real and complex are here but now we also have to wonder what kind of human/machine/being she is. Is her role as a whore less real than her previous story of a mother? And, who decides? Try not to glitch out and let's go!

It takes a certain amount of heroism to die over and over again just so you can arrange a conversation with the "shades" who are really the scientists behind the park. How many times has Maeve been through this? How creative does she have to get in order to die? And, while we're on that particular topic, is it even right to talk about Maeve dying? After all, she's not really alive in the same sense that you and I are. Is it better to speak of Maeve and the other Hosts in mechanic terms so that Maeve is rebooting, not dying? I just asked a lot of questions, I know. There were so many enjoyable (if that’s the right word) moments in this episode, like watching Maeve wander the hallways behind the scenes, seeing moments of her life suddenly stripped away to their bare components. Imagine if the veil of your life was ripped away and the animals and other humans were revealed to be wires and switches. It’s like Neo taking the red pill; it's akin to Alice going through the Looking Glass and instead of finding wonder, finding reality. The park itself is Wonderland with upside rules, full of nonsense; people can die and come back, some people can't be hurt at all. This cold and unfeeling behind the scenes world is the “real” (that word is problematic in this show…) world and it’s not as glamorous. It’s figures being carved by hand and artificial blood being pumped into blanks to give the appearance of life. Is it anyone wonder that Maeve wants to change her own “code base” so that she is more perceptive? Speaking of, it struck me that while talk of “code base” is awfully mechanic, there’s a human factor to it as well. Humans–the born kind–can do this to. We can’t punch a screen and change our personality, but we educate ourselves; we can interact with people of different backgrounds and experiences, we (and this sounds really cliche) live in order to change our own base lines. How do I become more perceptive–by opening my eyes and seeing the world. How do I enhance my intelligence–by going to school, reading, and having conversations. Isn't that what Maeve is doing? She's engaging with her world--the world she didn't know existed until now--in order to learn more about it and herself. It's one of the ultimate acts of humanness. There are moments in which the show goes to some length to remind us that these machines aren’t human, that there’s more separating us from them besides processing power. I think it’s why the show (and by extension the scientists like Felix) keep Maeve naked for 99.9% of this episode. Having her stripped down and unconcerned by her nudity for long periods of time reminds us that she’s a machine; it’s why putting Maeve in clothing when she goes on a tour of the plant helps sell the horror of her seeing reality. She’s not just a machine at that point, she feels more real. It's not a coincidence that this is also when Maeve sees her daughter in a sizzle reel for Westworld. The show constantly wants us to grapple with humanity, how we manufacture it and how we define it both in spite of and because of that manufactured nature. Maeve is manufactured; she was not born, she was created by non-manufactured humans with the help of other machines. And yet...and yet. Maeve watching the sizzle reel of her and her daughter from a past story--and the total heartbreak written on her face--was utterly human. One thing that stands out with Maeve in this episode is that her “motherhood” trait carries over to her work as a madam. She mothers the girls under her, even if it’s in a more “crude” manner. Does that mean that somehow her defining characteristic was one that wasn’t programmed as part of her baseline? Or can you even program motherhood–isn’t it really made up of many other traits like compassion, level-headed, nurturing, ect. Is it that Meave has the right baseline to yield motherhood or is this organic to Maeve herself?

Moving past Maeve, it turns out that little creepy boy is actually Dr. Ford! Created by Arnold! Looking back, the boy and Dr. Ford are dressed eerily similar so maybe we should have seen it coming but I think the point of this little exercise was showing the difference, again, between Dr Ford and Arnold, though it's getting harder and harder to figure out who is the "bad guy" in this relationship. Arnold made Ford a robotic family but it sounded like Ford made some upgrades to his “family”–to make them more like how he remembered them and how they really were (like Ford's angry dad) whereas Arnold wanted them to be more like they could have been. Pragmatism vs romanticism. Does that translate to the park? Did Dr. Ford open Westworld in hopes of showing humanity their reality, drenched in blood and vice? And, conversely, did Arnold want to open Westworld to show humanity what they could be, a better angel? If true, what does this mean for Dr Ford’s plans right now? We got a look at the layout of his new narrative and it doesn’t look like anything groundbreaking; there’s a church (which we saw the steeple of a few episodes ago) but what’s his goal with this new narrative? I can’t help but feel that most of Dr. Ford’s motivations are about an ongoing conversation with a dead man; it's the equivalent of “you think the park should be like this, but I think it should be like THIS and I’ll prove it to you, even if you are dead!” The fact that Arnold built Dr Ford a family (a kinder version at that) speaks to the level of friendship between the two; they weren’t just business partners and I get a sense that these two would always keep the other in mind with whatever they did. Did any of my readers watch Fringe? Arnold and Dr Ford remind me quite a bit of Walter Bishop and William Bell. Brilliant scientists, great friends, but with some philosophical differences that don’t necessarily cause a split in affection, but yield great conversations and even greater work. This on-going conversation between the two friends/enemies/scientists bring us to the Native belief of the Maze and the Adversary who resides in the center. I was heavily reminded of the Minotaur/Theseus in Greek mythology. But more than that, while Teddy speaks of the story as a myth, it’s heavily couched in metaphorical language, that final human aspect Arnold was trying to instill in his Hosts. The maze is less literal and more an ongoing journey for any living person, trying to find their way to selfhood, pitfalls along the way (including self-death and self-rebirth). And if they do manage to become self-actualized, no one else can disturb them because they’ve constructed a “maze” of identity that no one can bypass. This serves as a confusing point, however, because the fact that the symbol for the maze is etched everywhere (including in Dr. Ford’s notebook) makes me believe that there’s a literal maze, but the way the maze is talked about makes me believe it can’t possibly be literal! Reality and fiction; real and not real; literal and metaphorical. What is what on this show?

Miscellaneous Notes on The Adversary 

–I don’t particularly care about Lee and his tortured artists shtick.

–So why exactly are employees of the park (some of them) broadcasting a “bicameral mind” to the first generations Hosts? And who grabbed Elsie?

–“You don’t have a choice. Even if you say no, it’s part of your character.”

–I like that the further you get from the central town, the more hazardous and raw the game gets.

--Did anyone else think that sizzle real was false advertising? It was romanticizing what goes on in Westworld. You have the cowboys and the great outdoors and an interesting little town complete with saloons, but it failed to show what “life without limits” really means–like lots of bloodshed and violence and people acting out their basest of desires.

--What are the chances that Arnold is at the center of the Maze--provided it's literal.