In Which I Review Sleepy Hollow (3x12)

Fathers, fathers, fathers. Their ghosts return to haunt us, don't they? In a great many ways, this week's episode of Sleepy Hollow, "Sins of the Father" is a "wrap up loose ends" type. There were certain threads hanging from the first half of the arc--like Nevins and Ezra Mills--that needed to be resolved before the bigger pieces of the story can really lift off--like whatever is going on with Abbie Mills. I have to be a little blunt this week; while treading water episodes are expected in shows that have to wrestle character development and an overarching mythology, this week's episode was entirely underwhelming in many ways. It's treading water in the worst way: when the story focuses on characters and threads that don't necessarily resonate with the audience because the focal points were never given space to becomce overly interesting. However, there were a few beats that do bear mentioning, so grab a beetle from inside your body cavity and lets go!

Now as you might imagine, this episode review is going to be fairly brief in scope. There is something I'm starting to fear but haven't bothered to voice until tonight. I am starting to wonder if there is still a conversation to be had about Sleepy Hollow in general. Fear not, I shall continue to blog each episode for as long as this show is on air, but Sleepy Hollow used to take great pleasure in subverting traditional hero stories while playing with religion, iconography, and genre. It was kitchy, but meaningful, and with more charm than you could shake a stick at. However, at this point, the conversation is starting to feel stilted. There are only so many times I can wax on and on about Ichabod and Abbie's bond and how deep it runs before I run the risk of parroting myself. In much the same fashion, Sleepy Hollow is starting to hit the same beats and themes over and over again without either pushing them forward to the next logical place or upending our expectations to go a totally different route. It's nothing to be too alarmist about, but it bears mentioning. Tonight's installment puts the focus on fathers, both the bad (Nevins), the good (Corbin) and the recovering (Ezra). It's interesting that Ichabod has very little to do given that his status for the first two seasons was a father trying to reach his son, Henry. Instead this week is very much an Abbie and Jenny centric (nothing wrong with that) and how their collective fathers have shaped their lives. At the risk of repeating myself, Abbie's tell-tale line "I have people for that now" is all we need to know about how the fathers affected our characters; they hurt them, yes, but the community formed between the Mills/Crane/Corbin gang sustains and endures. The episode isn't bad per se, it just has little conversation outside of plot points (symbol is what? Abbie is praying to whom now?) which I try to avoid. In that regards, I think we'll close by saying that while the loose ends may not have needed dealing with, the important factors--Ichabod and Abbie's bond, the teamwork feelings, and slow development of mythology--are all here. They just don't warrant a total analysis.

Miscellaneous Notes on Sins of the Father

--Of course the Hidden One sleeps on gold satin sheets. And of course he thinks Pandora should be as weak as him because that's "equality."

--Ichabod singing opera and cooking. Really all you need in life, right?

--Abbie is a diva with a gun.

--RIP Nevins? But now we have a new contender and some new McGuffins to chase; what are the 9 sacred sites?

--Fido. Credit where credit is to due Nevins. That was cute/clever.

--Really nice gender swap with Abbie being the moody sullen one and Ichabod doing the pampering with food and entertainment. The show doesn't comment on it, which is to its credit, but it's still there.

--Glad to see Abbie acknowledge that Ichabod gets what she is going through, something I wrote about last week.

--Yeah, I have no idea what that ending was.

In Which I Review Sleepy Hollow (3x11)

Remember waaaaaay back in season two when a new monster arose like a cliche Frankenstein (or, Franklinstine as Ichabbie called it)? It was named the Kindred and it was rather fearsome. If you don't remember, here's my review of that episode. It has been a long time since the Kindred was brought back to Sleepy Hollow and the stories that involved him--that of the Headless Horseman and Jeremy/Henry Parrish/War Horseman--have been resolved and dismissed by the writers in favor of opening the mythology up to things other than traditional Sleepy Hollow iconography. Introducing (or rather re-introducing) an audience to a character long gone can be tricky. You have to make the audience care that this monster came back and make his reappearance relevant to the current narrative. Does it work in this week's episode, "Kindred Spirits"? Perhaps the emotions behind the episode do, though the plot mechanics are all over the place. We get some pretty heavy handed and clunky exposition from Sophia Foster that is designed to get everyone caught up on the Kindred; this is followed by an equally clunky exposition from Pandora that she summoned the Kindred thus tying him to the current arc, but I'm not sure this Kindred reemergence was warranted from a plot standpoint. However, the emotional story arc about relationships and different dynamics between the many couples and pairings of this show was something worth examining. Grab your dead monkey puzzle plant and let's go!

Relationships, it turns out, are hard. This rather pithy statement of truth speaks to any and all relationships--romantic, familial, one with the self. We are all searching for a connection and, when we do find one, struggle to maintain them. Abbie is struggling in her relationship with the normal world; unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable to work, Abbie is trying to figure out how to live back in a world where time passes, she has friends to talk with, and one where her services are demanded both with the mundane FBI and in the magical cosmic battle. While it's obvious that nm,Abbie does a great job keeping her anger under the surface, it reads that a lot of her emotional arc right now is one of rage. Not at anyone in particular, mind you, but at the situation. According to her, she lost a year of her life and almost her sanity; the enigmatic symbol at the end of the episode suggests there were moments the audience was not privy to, opening up a--forgive me--Pandora-sized box of psychological possibilities. While she managed to survive--because Abbie is a total badass--no one could come out of that unscathed and unaffected by what was done to them. Ichabod, at the same time, is struggling to assure Abbie of their bond and their unwavering connection; in fact, one might even say he's trying a little too hard. Ichabod sits with Abbie when she can't sleep; he wants to go out for an "Early Burr" breakfast; he wants to buy her new plants to bring life back into his and Abbie's home. It doesn't work though. Abbie, as it stands, believes she has to face these many emotions alone. She can't openly discuss her memories, her pain, or her internal struggle because no one else experienced what she did--that unbearable loneliness--so no one can possibly help her work through her many layered feelings. This is a bit of a false assumption on Abbie's part. Abbie is correct that no one was trapped in the Underworld-Catacombs with her, but certainly Ichabod knows what it is to be extremely lonely and feel utterly alone. When he awoke from his 200+ year old nap, it was to a different world. Ichabod had no one who could understand him...except Abbie. Against all odds, The Man Out of Time found the one woman who empathized and helped him with his internal struggle, helping him find his place in the new world. There is no reason why Ichabod can't help Abbie find her place back in this world. At the same time, Ichabod is struggling to rekindle the romance he and Miss Zoe Corinth were embarking upon during the first half of this season. As we discussed in the first episode back, Ichabod became myopic in his search for Abbie; this caused his relationship with Zoe to fall by the wayside. These two were never developed in any truly meaningful way, largely because Ichabod and Abbie are the focal points of the show, as they should be. But it's nice to see Ichabod feeling guilty, to realize that he cares for Abbie so much that everything--and everyone--else was let go to his determent.

There is a narrative throughpoint this season that's all about couples and their various dynamics. I touched on this a bit last week, but this week it became even more apparent with the Kindred and the Kindress (yes, there's some serious eye-rolling here because that plot point is more strange than delightful spaghetti-to-the-wall but her appearance is one that fits the thesis of the season). Do we all have a partner and can monsters love, the show asks? We have the Hidden One and Pandora, an example of an abusive and emotionally depraved relationship. This week, we see Pandora hinting (rather strongly) that she'd like her box back, she'd like her powers back and that without it she feels less herself, less powerful, and less alive. The Hidden One (no, seriously, can we just name him already?) dismisses his "beloved's" complaints and internal hurt for the sake of his own concerns. He needs to be powerful; he needs his army; he needs everything she can provide because at some point in the near future, The Hidden One plans on ruling this puny world. His endgame is all that matters. It's not a relationship of equals, even though Pandora believes it was meant to be. You can't miss the anger in the Hidden One's eyes when Pandora dares to suggest that they rule as one. Contrasted to this relationship is our other monster pair--The Kindred and the Kindress. Theirs is a weird and strange union and I wasn't quite sure what I was watching during their oddly touching (but ultimately creepy) reunion/makeout session, but the show answers its own questions: yes, everyone has a partner and yes, monsters can love. Yes, monsters can be like us, the humans. They want connections and helpmates just like we do. But it's only when the relationship is mutually beneficial does it succeed. The Hidden One and Pandora? Not so successful because it's decideidly not a team effort of two equally placed individuals. The Kindred and Kindress? Successful, until they were blown up. And, of course, Ichabod and Abbie are the most successful of all because without one another, they wouldn't know how to survive this always odd and sometimes cruel world.

Miscellaneous Notes on Kindred Spirits 

--Along with the two aforementioned relationships, we saw another one that has been neglected and under developed and came to an end tonight: Abbie and Daniel. Whatever happened at Quantico was hinted at but never really given any space for us to get invested in it. It seems like the writers realized this and decided to cut their losses with whatever was planned.

--I really like Abbie's curly hair.

--Ichabod is bringing the desert climate to his and Abbie's Mid-Atlantic abode. Bless him.

--"You're my Wilson."

--"Well, that was odd." Ichabod was pretty much speaking for the entire audience with this line. Honestly, I couldn't decide if the Kindred/Kindress were super weird, super funny, or super sweet.

--Speaking of Ichabod, there is something that has been bothering me for awhile but I hesitated to say anything. The writers seem to be toning "Ichabod vs the modern world" down a bit, especially in his reactions to the world around him. I don't know if it's because Ichabod is now mostly assimilated (which takes away some of his considerable charm) or if the writers simply aren't interested in his quips anymore, but I miss them.

--I honestly don't know how to analyze the Betsy and Ichabod flashbacks this week. Yes, part of it was plot driven (the medical supplies) but other than that, the only thing I take away is the same thing as always: Betsy and Ichabod's relationship is not as significant as the writers seem to think it is. There's nothing exciting, fresh, or interesting about their interactions. The writers are relying on the flashback device as if the show can't survive without it, but this isn't true. They very rarely add anything truly important to the plot and Betsy has yet to make any sort of meaningful connection with the audience. Also, in a world where it took several days to ride from colony to colony, am I expected to really believe that Betsy had her finger in every spy-pie Ichabod was involved in?

In Which I Review Sleepy Hollow (3x10)

Abbie Mills is a pillar of strength and I adore her. There, I said it. I feel better about the world. Abbie Mills is made of metal and iron and steel. She can cross deserts and wastelands; she can traverse Purgatory, the 1700s, some sort of hellscape and come out with her wits, her intellect, and her sense of self. Why? Because Abbie Mills is an empowered, strong woman and, honey, you should hear her roar. This, though, is not to say that she doesn't need support, love, family, friends, and even a partner. Oh no. Strong women need all that, but they also know how to direct the course of their own life. They know how to map out the terrain of the physical and the mental and soldier on even when it seems better to give up and given in. I kinda love Abbie, guys, in case that wasn't abundantly clear. This week's episode, "Incident at Stone Manner," is all about what has been going on with Abbie since she exploded in a tree, about her resilience, and about her ever evolving partnership with her fellow Witness. Sleepy Hollow always does a great job of letting the Man out of Time and his Leftenant take turns saving each other. While Abbie is holding her own in a strange mythical land, Crane goes in search for his better half. To seek, to discover, to find. But of course, Abbie doesn't need anyone to save her. With her own spirit and ingenuity, our girl has come home. Welcome back, Abbie Mills. We missed you.

There was a ton of plot going on this week. We had gargoyles that came alive, astral projections, Pandora and the Hidden doing whatever they are doing, and a brief aside of Betsy Ross (of course) playing some sort of role with a Frenchman. As per usual, it was all rather spaghetti-to-the-wall, but, at the same time, it was so much fun that I care not for the over abundance of plot lines. This episode really had one focus--something that is pretty much true of any outstanding Sleepy Hollow piece--which was Ichabod going to save Abbie from The Catacombs. This netherworld in an isolated landscape where you may not need to eat, drink, or sleep, but the boredom and the lack of human contact will kill you before malnutrition. Not a very happy place, in other words. And yet, there's Abbie playing chess to keep from going crazy and making hourglasses to figure out how her new world operates. The reason behind this is not only Abbie's own spine of steel, but also the fact that she is never alone. Not really. As she explains to Ichabod's astral projection (gosh, what a sentence) Abbie carries him with her, hears his voice, sees his point of view on anything that is going on. Separated not only by time but by existence, Abbie survives with Crane's help. And here's the truly beautiful thing, when Abbie explains this to Ichabod, he acknowledges that this is how he would have survived too, with Abbie's voice rattling around inside his head, being a helpmate in the dark. Even when Ichabod's astral projection is "cut" by Pandora, Abbie refuses to give in to saving herself and handing the magical Eye over to Pandora; she'd rather face potential madness and lose herself than let evil win. Why? Is she self-destructive? No; rather Abbie knows that she'll never be alone so Pandora's threats of madness mean nothing to her. It's called a heroic sacrifice and it's exactly what both halves of Team Witnesses would do. I know I say this a lot, but the relationship between Abbie and Ichabod is the central focus of the show, even with all the monsters and the doom and the death, it's about these two souls who are, as Abbie says, "as different as two people can be. But we work things out together. Always." Abbie has always been the pragmatist; she sees the world in black and white and puts her duty before everything. Ichabod romanticizes and questions his role in the world and cosmos. His duty is foremost but it's always more emotionally felt, more personal. I suppose that is what happens when your head is almost lopped off by the Horseman of Death.

Different though they may be, it's their combined strength that always saves the day. Ichabod came to rescue Abbie, but it is Abbie who carries Ichabod's soul across time, space, and astral planes because they are always together. Wither one goes, there too goes the other. Abbie isn't just getting out of Purgatory, she's taking Ichabod with her. It all leads to a truly beautiful moment when Ichabod comes back to his body and tells Abbie "I heard your voice. I followed it." There are, I believe, two dynamics being compared and contrasted to this Witness relationship in our other more-romantic pairings. Joe and Jenny are still figuring things out. Jenny has a hard time letting people in because of her Emma Swan-esque walls and it prevents her from letting Joe be a support system when she needs it. Joe and Jenny are more or less a human (read: less cosmic and fated) version of Ichabod and Abbie. While Joe and Jenny are trying to learn how to be partners, they look to the best example they can find: Ichabbie, of course, working together and being each others backbone. It's really nice to see Ichabbie be such a positive role model and influence for these two. However, on the other end of the spectrum, are the Hidden One and Pandora, a seriously messed up and perverted relationship with a horrible power dynamic. Pandora believes herself inferior to her "god" lover. The fact that he hasn't returned to full power is her fault and one blame she is willing to shoulder. In an effort to appease him, Pandora lets the Hidden One take her own life force after he has a fit of man pain. It's the exact opposite of Ichabod and Abbie. Ichabod and Abbie work together so that the partnership is mutually beneficial. The Hidden One takes what is important to him and lets Pandora suffer the consequences. Can you ever imagine Ichabod agreeing to take Abbie's life force just so that he can feel virulent and powerful? Certainly not. It's a really nice contrast between the human-cosmic team and the divine-cosmic team. Because I could never believe that Sleepy Hollow would have Ichabbie lose in a cosmic good versus evil battle, it will be very highly enjoyable to see a manipulative and damaging relationship squashed and shown for the failure that it is while affirming that a respectful, considerate, and equally balanced relationship like Ichabbie is held up on a pedestal.

Miscellaneous Notes on Incident at Stone Manor

--As usual, the makeup and graphics team deserve a round of applause for the gargoyle.

--While I like how the writers are contrasting Hidden One/Pandora with Ichabbie, the former are really ineffectual villains. They haven't done anything overtly threatening to the town as of yet except planning some sort of Demon Conclave? Pandora is more threatening than her male counterpart, who simply broods and speaks with a deep voice thus far, but that's mostly down to her doing more to our regular cast of heroes.

--I hope we haven't seen the last of Ezra Mills. It would be a shame if Abbie and Jenny's father was introduced on screen just for this one scene.

--Ichabod is able to manifest in the Catacombs because Abbie focuses on their bond and holds it tight in her mind. These two, I'm telling ya.

--Betsy Ross was also once stuck in the Catacombs. The writers are trying to give her more flavor and make her seem interesting, but she remains as dull as dishwater because she's had absolutely no role outside of the plucky ye old girl who helps out Crane.

--"If this is the way out, then you're coming with me."

In Which I Review Sleepy Hollow (3x9)

Time moves on. Unceasing and with neither restraint nor bias, time marches forward. It's one of those inevitable facts of the universe--much, I suppose, like death and taxes--that time waits for no man and does not care about your own personal stake in the grand narrative. In other words, life can be miserable and bleak but you still have to make your crappy TV lasagna dinners. A lot of the smaller emotional arcs in Sleepy Hollow deal with loss, perhaps a remnant of the original short story in which people lose their heads (literally!), or maybe just a commentary on how humans find themselves losing loved ones and meaning everyday. Be it Ichabod losing his place in time, his wife, and his son; Abbie losing her mother, her sister or even the world as she knew it once a headless demon on a red-eyed horse began to terrorize her little hamlet, the show weaves the themes of loss into its cosmic, apocalyptic, and mythological narrative as easily as Ichabod quotes dead founding fathers. Neatly swimming alongside that smaller story of loss is one of healing, particularly with regards to Ichabod and Abbie. Ichabod may have started off this series by losing all that he held dear, but he found a new place in a new world with a new partner. Abbie may have lost the sense of normalcy she so adamantly and rigidly tried to maintain, but she found a way to combat the weird shenanigans with her fellow Witness. So what happens when your support system, that which keeps the overwhelming sadness of loss at bay, vanishes (or, you know, walks into a tree and is blown up)? The season began with Abbie and Ichabod reuniting after several months apart, the audience being spared having to watch their separation, only getting the joy of their togetherness. But now we are faced with something far darker: Abbie's sacrifice and how to go on living without her. As I said in my Winter Finale review, I very much doubt that Abbie is dead for long (heroes journey, y'all), and indeed we got confirmation of that tonight, but first, we have to settle into that loss. We have to walk that lonely path with Ichabod who is trying to relearn his role not only in the cosmic story but also in the mundane world without his Leftentant. It may be a sad corner of the universe our heroes are living in with this week's episode "One Life," but to quote the man himself: "Your spirit and mine are made of far heartier stock....come what may." Let's go! 

When confronted with overwhelming loneliness and grief, what do people do? They get reckless. Us mere mortals might drink too much or make poor life choices and decisions. We might wallow in self-pity and self-loathing. We could snap at those around us; we could get selfish and myopic. We respond as human beings with wounds on their souls are wont to do. Ichabod, though he be a Witness and a cosmic player in the great game, is still human and prone to all of these things. Ichabod's life in the month since Abbie's magic vanishing act has had a singular purpose: to find his missing friend. He'll steal valuable objects, speed away on motorbikes, play a game of cat-and-mouse with the FBI, and even snap at Miss Jenny, the only other person who has the same wounds on her soul in the wake of Abbie's demise. Ichabod has always been the more faithful of the two Witnesses; he fought evil on a grand scale before Abbie Mills was even conceived. Ichabod rose from the grave and knew that such magical resurrections were possible. If Ichabod could get so many chances--saved from the Horseman and then saved from Purgatory--then couldn't Abbie? Couldn't this Orpheus find his Eurydice and bring her back to the land of the living? This is, undeniably, one of the--if not the-- strongest aspects of Sleepy Hollow. While its spaghetti to the wall style of mythic writing can take some seriously campy turns, the heart of the show remains Ichabod Crane and Abbie Mills with their unlikely but very believable friendship. They might battle the forces of evil on a weekly basis, but there is something human in the way Ichabod and Abbie's characters are drawn. Not caricatures, but character. While few, if any of us, can relate to losing one's partner in a magical tree that leads to the Underworld, we all know what it is to lose someone we love and feel helpless in our inability to bring that person back from the great beyond.

However, if you are in possession of certain magical objects (and not, say, the blood of a man who has been to hell and back--what, too early for OUAT shade?) you can make an attempt at bringing back your lost partner. But is that the best idea? Is there not some sort of argument to be made about undoing a heroic act and the consequences you potentially unleash upon the world because of your (understandable, but ultimately, selfish) desire for a reunion with your lost loved one? In other words, does Ichabod have the right to bring back Abbie, no matter the outcome? Like, say, a demon mirror monster who murders people. Sophie (whom I am tempted to call Abbie-Lite given all the parallels the show painfully laid out like breadcrumbs over this first hour back, but more on that in a moment) pointed out to Crane, "you wanted to find Abbie so badly that you let a demon into the world." Ichabod is reckless; he's hurt. He's lost his "better half," the person who was his true partner because Abbie made him better simply by virtue of standing next to him. But Ichabod still has a duty, a mission, one that centers on stopping the demonic forces. So while his pain and desire are understandable, there are other considerations that must be taken. Like, again, not letting a vengeance demon into the world. That much is laid bare and given narrative weight in the opening hour but, let's back track and talk about the new "partner" in Ichabod's life: Sophie. We met her rather briefly in the last arc, but she was given some more depth in this episode, and unsurprisingly, her backstory is reminiscent of Abbie's. It's a fairly common narrative tactic; in order to reduce the audience's anguish over the loss of a beloved character, you give the new character who is replacing the lost one a similar story, background, or hallmark characteristic. In this case, Sophie's family was taken from her by demons. Abbie's mother went crazy because of spirits and her own fragile childhood innocence was lost because of Moloch and Henry. Since that moment, Sophie has spent her life trying to prove the existence of the other worlds to avenge her parents; Abbie, while having more mundane pursuits, fought to make the world safe from "monsters" because of her own haunted past. Much like Betsy Ross being the new Katrina, Sophie is the new Abbie and it fails to make any impact on me, but unlike in the former situation, it's because no one can replace Abbie Mills. Katrina and Betsy were (and are) both problematic characters because they dulled down an otherwise exciting (crazy?) show but Sophie reminds me that Ichabod needs Abbie. Crane and Mills are the only makeup of Team Witnesses. We accept no substitutions or exchanges.

Miscellaneous Notes on One Life

--The show always manages to incorporate historical figures well and the famous execution of Nathan Hale is no exception. The flashback was one of those rare ones where the themes match the present day, instead of the artifact or McGuffin being vital. In fact, the flashbacks this week bothered me so little that I'll even refrain from discussing the uselessness and pointlessness of Betsy Ross for the 50th time.

--"You have but one life---do not indulge in recklessness." Theme!

--"[Abbie's]alive and it's up to me to find her!"

--Jenny and Joe finally gave in to their feelings. While I'm glad they admitted their growing romantic relationship, it was really Jenny's guilt over Abbie that made the whole scene.

--Ichabod should be arrested for "crimes against fashion." Sophie, take a good long and hard look. Ichabod in his coat is a (sexual) revelation. However, points for acknowledging that Ichabod "talks like a Jane Austen novel."

--Ichabod going through the mirror to recuse Abbie recalls the Season 2 Purgatory arc in which the world was conceived of as through a glass, darkly. The writers subverted our expectations of visuals past. Nicely done.

--The Japanese vengeance demon was properly creepy.

--Abbie lives! Come on, Mills. Save yourself. Your boy needs you.

In Which I Review Sherlock (New Year's Day 2016)

Well. Okay then. You know, I had absolutely no idea what to expect going into this one-off New Year's Day Sherlock special entitled "The Abominable Bride." None at all. Yes, I had seen the trailers and the photos and knew that somehow, inexplicably, we, and our two leading men, were cast into the late 1800s and looked far more like Holmes and Watson that they typically do; but aside from those obvious (and very confusing) spoilers, I had virtually no idea what this episode of Sherlock was even going to be about. What I got was one of the very best episodes of Sherlock we've ever seen. This is the sort of smart, witty, snappy writing I've come to expect from Moffat/Gatiss on this, their other BBC show. Sometimes Sherlock gets bogged down in the tricks and the trappings of a detective story (to be fair, it *is* a detective story) and often becomes a bit too gadget and direction-happy and won't let the audience breathe and enjoy, but this trip back to 1895 was exactly what the good doctor ordered. Grab a pipe, a funny hat, and a cup of good cheer: the boys are back in town! 

My review is going to be rather brief because while the plot is vast in scope, the themes of the episode really boil down to one important question. The question we, the fans, have been asking for a little over a year: is Moriarty alive and how did he survive the modern day Reichenbach Fall? To answer this question, Sherlock (as he is wont to do) go deep into his mind palace and tries to solve another famous crime: that of Emelia Ricoletti, the Abominable Bride. That is the bare bones summation of this plot line. Everything you see back in 1895 is a (sadly drug fueled) trip into the famous mind palace in order to reflect into the present and answer that all important question. But that doesn't mean that our trip to the past isn't incredibly fun. It feels as though Moffat and Gatiss sat for weeks at a computer, scouring through the best of fanfiction.net and AO3 in order to come up with a sensible plot line that was true to Doyle's writing and true to the characters as they have conceived of them in modern day London. They knew that they had a hard task before them, to whet the appetites of the admittedly rabid Sherlock fanbase while admitting that it was going to take at least another year before we get season 4 (damn Cumberbatch and Freeman and their rising-star careers). In order to do that, the writing duo decided to have a little bit of fun. An alternative universe, if you will. It's common enough in fanfiction. Setting the story back in the Doyle era of the original Holmes, we are given a little New Years Day treat but all the while not expecting any of this to be canonized. A romp in the garden, then. We get some fun with our favorite detective boys and are pacified until 2017. Instead, Moffat and Gatiss pulled the rug out from under our feet and made everything about this episode relate to the present tense. And it was insanely well executed.

Right off the bat, the death of Emelia Ricoletti feels familiar. A deranged and macabre woman blows her brains out in front of an audience and then somehow rises from the grave to terrorize all of England. It's Moriarty in a fancy wedding dress. Could Moriarty have survived his death blow? Well, sure; why not? Sherlock survived his fall, after all, and every hero needs a villain in their story. The hero need that element against which they fight in order to prove that they are the hero in the tale being told (this all sounds very Doctor Who-ish, does it not?) The case of the Abominable Bride is not really about Ricoletti, then. Yes, Sherlock in the modern day, having taken an entire lists worth of illegal drugs, is trying to solve the case as his plane lands from whence it too off only moments prior, but in reality, Sherlock is trying to solve Moriarty's case viz a viz Mrs. Ricoletti. It's a great one-two punch because while the Ricolleti 1895 case is clearly a parallel to the 2014 Moriarty one, the audience does not grasp the supreme twist that it's all happening inside Sherlock's head until more than halfway through the tale. Honestly, you have to give some props to the writers for this clever about-face and deception. So is Moriarty alive? Well, yes and no. Is the physical being known as Moriarty alive and well? According to Sherlock, in the end, no. That creature who threatened to burn the heart out of Sherlock is dead. But the memory of Moriarty, what he represents, is. And just as Sherlock often represents logic, order, control, and systematic deduction, Moriarty is a force of chaos. He is a destructive maelstrom who tries to topple Sherlock by playing a long game with the boy genius; his modus operandi is to distract Sherlock and his work by plaguing the detective's thoughts. Sherlock Holmes will never be free of Moriarty. That voice--that chaotic malevolent force--will always be there whispering evil nothings in Sherlock's ear. It's like the 1895 vision of Moriarty says at the Reichenbach Falls, "this is how we end--always together." Moriarty and Sherlock are our very own Satan and God, tangled in a web. Remember who is locked up, deep inside Sherlock's mind palace? It's Moriarty. They are two sides of what it means to be a super genius: the hero who tries to save victims and the villain who creates them. Sherlock stands at a precipice and tries not to fall over, to become Moriarty. But, unlike his arch nemesis, Sherlock has one thing that Moriarty can never hope to have: John.

"There's always two of us!" Fake 1895 John yells before he kicks Moriarty over a cliff. It doesn't matter what the case is, or what time period they happen to be in, Sherlock would be lost without his blogger. John saves Sherlock, just as Sherlock confesses during John's wedding day. As is always the case, there are a lot of Sherlock and Watson moments that feel highly significant but once the curtain rises and we realize that the 1895 drama is, in fact, not really happening outside of Sherlock's wild mind palace, we have to understand that this mustached John is how Sherlock (our modern Sherlock, that is) conceives of his best friend. It's never been hard to deduce what John is for Sherlock--John is really Sherlock's conscience. In a world that threatens to consume the detective, Sherlock turns off all his emotions and focuses on the work and on solving the case. John is there to humanize him. When 1895 John asks his best friend "what made you like this?" it's really Sherlock wanting to know why he is the way he is. His answer is that nothing made him, Sherlock made himself. And isn't that a trifle sad? Sure, he's a brilliant detective and a world class mind, but recall the season three opener in which Sherlock all but admits that he is lonely and sad without John. Sherlock may have made himself this way, but there's always a reason. The ghost of Mrs. Ricoletti causes Sherlock to extemporize on the nature of the past and how we all have ghosts, the ones of our own making. John, as always, is there to lean on, to keep the ghosts at bay, should Sherlock need it. The question we might pause to consider, then, is what are Sherlock's ghosts. Might the mysterious Redbeard that Mycroft has written in his pocket have anything to do with why Sherlock closed himself off? Or the allusion to another Holmes brother?

There were a few other themes that were parceled out to us over the hour and a half but the one that is the strongest is women's agency (something ever so near and dear to my heart). In the 1895 drama, we get a fairly accurate (and sad) depiction of what life was like for women in the world. Either they are ignored by their husbands (Emelia Ricoletti and Mary Watson); they are mute plot devices (Mrs. Hudson with maybe some of the best lines of the night); they are objects meant to serve men but have little meaningful interaction with them (the Watson's maid); and while they might be clever and just as capable as a man, they are forced to hide their gender to get ahead in the world (Molly Hooper with the best mustache in the series. Sorry, John). The invisible amry is a reference to Moriarty's network, which I assume is going to play a significant role in season 4, but it's also a statement by the two chief writers about empowering women; that they could move mountains (or plot and plan the murder of several bad men) if we let them. For a writer (Mofatt) who has been given quite a bit of grief over his misogony on his other BBC show (looking at you, Clara kid) it's refreshing to see him (and Gatiss) make a mostly-strong statement (even if I cringe a bit that the main impetus for this women's army is all about being ill treated by men). A wee bit of speculation but I do wonder if that mission statement will carry through to Season 4. Might we see the return of Irene Adler? Guess we'll have to wait (slightly less than) an eternity to find out!

Miscellaneous Notes on The Abominable Bride

--"I'm glad you liked my potato." I laughed for five minutes solid.

--Tons of call backs and references to earlier modern day cases, which really should have been the big clue that all was not what it seemed: John and Sherlock meeting almost the same way in 1895 (complete with Mike Stamford); the dialogue and Holmes deducing that Watson was in war; the (orange) pips as a harbinger of death; the creepy moors and the supernatural creature that is really just a trick of the mind (ghost, dog); Sherlock playing John and Mary's waltz.

--Fat! Mycroft is one of the best things I've ever seen. "Did you summon me here just to humiliate me?" "Yes."

--Speaking of Mycroft, the modern day gent really does get the short end of the stick with Sherlock. He might be smarter than his little brother, but loves him deeply, as evidenced by the emotion wraught on his face both in the season three finale and in a few tender moments Mycroft tries to have in the modern world. The "I'll always be there for you" was heartbreaking given that Sherlock rejects his brother.

--"I'm your land lady, not a plot device." I want that on a t-shirt.

--"Elementary, my dear Watson." #Nerdgasam

--Men out of time, the pair of them. Bless. See everyone for season 4!

In Which I Review the Doctor Who Christmas Special (2015)

Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope my dear readers are having a lovely holiday and are ready for another round of great storytelling in this the final chapter of our favorite fairy tale (that we're going to get until next Fall, at least). This year's Christmas installment, "The Husbands of River Song," is the sort of genre bending I expect from my beloved Who. On the one hand, it's a fairy tale full of chance encounters, mistaken identities, a compelling love story, a super villain, a cheeky hero, and with a good moral lesson at the end. On the other hand, the story accepts the limitations of reality and knows that there is always an ending. I must admit that I experienced some trepidation with this years Christmas offering. While season nine of Doctor Who was mostly very good, Moffat's Christmas episode are usually hit or miss. Last year's episode entitled "Last Christmas" was decent enough as was the one three years ago (Clara's first Christmas episode); the ones in between were lackluster and dull and, frankly, the less I say about Matt Smith's final episode (also a Christmas special) the better. So it was with some strong hesitation that I tuned in to watch as the twelfth Doctor met his wife, River Song, first the first time wearing this particular (Scottish) face. And, dear readers, I was blown away. This episode was jovial and happy instead of feeling maudlin (as sometimes Moffat tends to get). It was the perfect mix of witty charm, heartfelt sadness, and epic adventure. In short: everything you want out of Doctor Who. Grab a disembodied head, prepare to commit some murder (it is Christmas after all), and let's go! 

River Song has never been a favorite of mine. I know that might be blasphemous to some, but while her story is passably interesting, I've never found it to be anything more than a riff on "The Time Traveler's Wife" novel but with a more (Moffat trademarked) timey-wimey complexity than I have neither have time nor energy for. Her relationship with the Doctor (any of them) is sweet, but I was rather shocked when Moffat had the pair get married several seasons ago. I think, like River professes in this episode, I never really expected the Doctor to love her back. Yes, he loves all his companions because, as the Doctor says to Ashildr in this season past, they are his mayflies and they remind him of the wonders of the universe, the selfsame wonders he's forgotten how to see. River is a horse of a different color from your Roses, your Marthas, your Amys, and your Claras because River is more like the Doctor in that she's got the Time Vortex spinning in her blood. She has the same time traveling, adventure seeking, shock and awe predilections that the Doctor has and in the past that's the reason why they can't stay together too long; like Ashildr, two immortals (semi-immortal in River's case) seeing the Universe would most likely end badly. But mixed in with those (admittedly complicated) feelings, I've never imagined that the Doctor loved River the same way she clearly loves him. River is Amy's daughter and the Doctor cares for her by that virtue alone. The Doctor married River as a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy and felt responsible for her after Amy was taken and River was raised the way she was. He respects her independence and her own unique lifestyle (apparently she married Stephen Fry AND two other women? You go, River Song!) The Doctor would never want harm to befall River, naturally, but he wouldn't go around putting labels on River like "love of my life" or "soul mate." To her credit, River understood that the Doctor is an ageless god and never made any demands of loving affection on him; that, more than their actual story, made the pair enjoyable to watch. However, after this episode, I get the sense that the Doctor does love River quite a bit, but it took him a long time to really accept that. He had to lose the people he loved most (remember, he's hot off the story of knowing that he's lost Clara but not remembering her at all) and face the knowledge that he's going to lose River for good, no loopholes, in order to understand that while he might be a sunset, he can admire and love her back.

This understanding from the Doctor brings me back to the fairy tale aspect of this year's Christmas story. I've always been fairly critical of Moffat and his inability to let go of some of the most high fantasy fairy tale aspects in his years on the show. He tends to play the "true love saves the day" card a bit too much and he rarely has consequences to some of the bigger thematic issues he's addressing with his characters (Clara's addiction thesis, anyone?) because it will ruin the fairy tale aspect. However, Christmas episodes are a bit special in that this is a time when it's okay to whip out some fairy tale magic and have that "happily ever after" ending because of the nature of the season. Christmas episodes in Doctor Who tend to focus on something treacly be it family, second chances, hope, unity, and so on and so forth. This isn't to say that Doctor Who doesn't often focus on those themes, but at Christmas they do come out in full force; in other words, a dead father can come back to life in a Christmas episode. It can be a bit too saccharine and sweet for anyone who wants science-fiction or meta cosmic storytelling, but it works for the show since it's only once a year. This year the theme hammered home is all about how stories end, they must end; the twist here is exploring that it's okay because you can live happily until the end which is maybe the most un-treacly sweet thing Moffat's version of Doctor Who has ever done. For example, the past season dealt with the Doctor refusing to let his and Clara's story end to the point where he became "an enemy of time and space." In this episode, River assures him that the ending doesn't matter, only the story. I do believe we are looking at the final chapter of River and the Doctor. The Singing Tower of Darillium, the Doctor giving River her Sonic Screwdriver, and the almost full diary all led to one thought: the Library is coming. River Song is going to get a message asking her to come to the universe's largest library and there she will meet the 10th Doctor and Donna Noble, and there she will die. It's how we met River and, after many years and several backwards adventures, it's time for her to go. Not everything can be avoided. The ending doesn't matter though; it's how the life is lived before the ending. The final moment of the episode show a title card that reads "and they lived happily ever after" with snow wiping away "ever after." The point, the message, our Christmas lesson this 2015 year is that it's more important that River and her Doctor lived happily for their final night together, even if it is not ever after. There is no loophole, there is no clever plan concocted at the last second to save River from her fate. Time is going to march on and River is going to go to the Library and die but our takeaway is that the life she led was a happy one; she had a final moment with the Doctor. For everyone on this Christmas, Moffat wants to remind us that endings happen; they must. Companions leave or die; Doctors regenerate; and, yes, showrunners move on. But until the ending comes, we should live happily with our memories and with those we love for as long as we can. And isn't that really the message of all fairy tales? Not to live happily ever after; no one can do that unless you're truly mythic. But, simply, to live. You can't expect a monolith to love you back, but normal, everyday humans (and Time Lords) do, can, and will. It's a sappy message, but that doesn't make it any less relevant. So, as they say in all the best fairy tales: the end.

Miscellaneous Notes on The Husbands of River Song

--How about a really big round of applause for Peter Capaldi and Alex Kingston? Their chemistry was off the charts. Simply wonderful considering that they've never been together on this show until this one episode while Alex had two episodes with David Tennant and many more with Matt Smith.

--This episode was hilarious. Moffat always knows how to write a funny line, but this year it felt like every line was a funny one:
"You don't look much like your pictures." "That's an ongoing problem for me."
"I'll kill the lights. You kill the patient."
"Stop holding my hand. People don't do that to me!"
"I'm an archaeologist from the future. I dug you up!"

--I approve wholeheartedly of the TARDIS making the Doctor wear Wilf's antlers.

--I didn't really mention it, but also in the realm of fairy tales, the Doctor is a bit of a Grinch at the start with his "carol singers will be criticized" sign. An adventure with River helps his heart grow three sizes. And because it's Christmas after all!

--The Doctor's moment to shine comes when he has to pretend to be amazed at the TARDIS being bigger on the inside.

--"I'm an archaeologist! Look! I've got a trowel!" The Sonic Trowel is 100% better than the Sonic Glasses.

--The plot of the actual episode was overall very good. The villain was presented as being bad enough that I didn't care about the moral implications of River wanting to kill Hydroflax. Unlike a lot of Moffat penned episodes, this one wasn't overly convoluted but still clever. I didn't feel like I needed a road map to understand how we got from point A to point B.

--Fun reversal of fortune with River being unable to recognize the Doctor. I did love how this exasperated the Doctor every time he tried to drop hints that he was, in fact, her Time Lord husband.

--It's hard to say where we're going from here--new adventures and a new companion certainly. Most likely, this is the last episode until well into 2016. Everyone enjoy their 24 year-night with the Singing Towers of Darillium!  

In Which I Review Once Upon a Time (5x11)

Here we are again. Eleven episodes later and we've reached the end of another arc and with three months off ahead of us, it's time for me to sit down once more and ponder how effective the storytelling on OUAT has been for the past 3ish months. I suspect we all know where I'm going to come down on that question. As I normally do, when faced with the end of an arc, I went back and read my review of the season opener in preparation for this week's midseason finale, "Swan Song." The thing that struck me most on my re-read was how I wanted to take each episode one at a time, that my judgement of the show and its narrative would and could only be looked at as it was presented to me live every week. However, now that we've reached the end of our Dark Swan/Camelot arc, it seems easy to say that while episode 501 was mostly successful and the best of this season, the episodes following were mostly disastrous. This entire season was messy, sloppy, careless with little regard for established mythology and, maybe worst of all, really boring. I'm going to be honest: I don't know if I have the energy for this. This episode was a wasteland in poor morals and poorer storytelling. I don't know how much longer I can watch this. I swore to stick to it until the end, but we're so far from the glory of season one that it's getting harder and harder to keep my promises. Ah well. Grab...I don't know....an entire bottle of wine and down it quickly because, dear readers, here we go. 

Meet PapaJones   

Captain Hook has father issues. I am awash in shock. Really, this was really the most surprising part of the entire episode (sarcasm). The entire point of this (badly shoehorned) flashback is that Hook, after abandonment, became like his father and that the man he chose to be was not a good one (again, shocking. News at 11). In present day, he remembers this and chooses to be something that is perceived as a good man. If you're a Hook fan, then it's sure to give you warm squishy feelings, but I'm not so it doesn't. Honestly, this entire flashback was so flat and uninteresting that you could have boiled it down to the following and not missed a beat: Hook's father left; Hook later kills his father after *mumble mumble* magic sleeping curse saved PapaJones long ago. See, that's really the crux of it all. Hook's a villain who committed patricide in a heated moment when he is re-traumatized by memories of his father leaving in contrast to his father refusing to leave his new son (whom PapaJones stupidly named Liam, like Hook's brother. Dude, you were almost asking for a hook through the heart.) This is supposed to give Hook's character more color except it doesn't. It stretches the narrative so that you now know the entire story and history of Hook and his Papa, but it doesn't add any emotional depth to the main character of Hook. We knew he had father issues. We knew his hook "had tasted the blood of dozens" and that he was hell-bent (unintentional pun!) on revenge against Rumple. All of this we have known since season two and Hook's introduction. And I could almost forgive the boring backstory that adds nothing to the character in question--because that's how all flashbacks go nowadays--if it wasn't for the awful shoehorned in feeling. When was this supposed to take place? In "Queen of Hearts" Hook and Regina meet for the first time and it's followed by Regina explaining her plan to Hook about Cora; it's moments after said first meeting (you remember... the one where Hook beats Belle unconscious and almost kills her). There's no costume change, no change of scenery but suddenly, in this week's episode, Hook is outside in a field with a goblet of wine (for reasons!) waiting for Regina, who appears in a totally different outfit. This is one of those cases when the writers make their lives so much more difficult than it needs to be. You don't need to set this new information in the moments before the original Dark Curse. You could set it 100 years ago when Hook is running an errand for Peter Pan and meets his father inexplicably in a bar. Logistics: solved! At any rate, that's all I have to this flashback. Nothing was gleaned for Hook's character by this flashback. It was repetitious and tedious. But, one question, what happened to the kid? Did Hook just leave baby Liam 2.0? Has Hook ever tried to find him? Is the Kid on the Forgotten Character Island Orphanage along with the season three Lost Boys?

Just Die Already (I Mean The Show)

I want to start off this part of the analysis with something that has nothing to do with OUAT. At least, not directly. I want to talk about emotional truths. This is not something I came up with on my own but is the result of reading a lot of Hulk Critic, in particular one of his posts about rape culture and its intersection with media and pop culture. For me, emotional truths are why having any sort of meaningful discussion in fandoms never goes anywhere. It's why the OUAT fandom has become a cesspool of stupid, full of infighting, anger, rage, and some truly appalling logic and rationalization. To be fair, it's from all sides, all ships, and a majority of fans. When fans debate characters or ships or storytelling, it is not an objective facts-and-just-the-facts debate (it's a lot like politics, really). It's a subjective emotional debate that begins to feel incredibly personal, like you and your very self are under attack if you are "canon-warping" how you read a text (as if there is any such thing as a strict right or wrong way to read a text). What is emotional truth? It's my interpretation of a text that I will argue to be true, in spite of any evidence that someone else might present as part of their emotional truth. It boils down to my emotional truth vs your emotional truth and how when all people do is argue their emotional truths, the debate will never go anywhere because we aren’t arguing facts. We’re arguing feelings and you can’t know my emotional truth and I can’t know yours. But because it’s YOUR emotional truth, it’s real. And because it’s MY emotional truth, it’s real. In other words, we aren’t even speaking the same language anymore. This entire fandom stopped speaking the same language some time ago. Yes, this is some little silly show but this is how people digest media. And we go in circles–over EVERYTHING–because we’re arguing emotional truth instead of anything that might be factual–and my emotional truth and your emotional truth might be far from the factual truth, but it doesn’t matter. Our emotional truths are real and true to us. And this, essentially, is why debating in fandom is so…tiring. We’re never going to get anywhere. We “agree to disagree” and pat ourselves on the back and continue to believe our own emotional truths.

I am bringing this up for a very specific reason. Last week, my review focused quite a bit on the similarities I see between Killian Jones and Kilgrave from "Jessica Jones" and the parallels between CaptainSwan and Kilgrave/Jessica. My review was found by someone who is (probably) a CSer and they really (really) went to town on me. I chose, at that time not to respond because, you guessed it, emotional truths. I respectfully left up their comments because I believe strongly in freedom of speech and in being able to argue emotional truths, but I want to stress something to readers, just in case it hasn't been made apparent: I am not a Captain Hook fan nor a CS shipper. I have heard every argument under the sun for why CS is shippable and why Hook is redeemed. I have argued against both of those ideas for years, here and elsewhere. No matter what evidence you present, you are not going to persuade me otherwise. I respect your emotional truth, but mine is not yours and it never will be. Why am I saying this now? Because Hook is dead and Emma's going to Hell for her boyfriend because "not fair!" and I weep for the end of feminism, logic, and good storytelling on this show. If that particular CSer is reading (or any CSer in general), I hope you enjoyed the show; I hope you continue to enjoy the show; but I'm not going to buy into any other argument. My emotional truth...it ain't changing just as sure as yours isn't going to change.

Unfortunately, for this episode, I can't avoid talking about Hook. It was all about him, after all. In fact, most of the season was about Hook, was it not? This season was sold as part of Emma's hero journey. Season 5A had potential and I was prepared to see it out and accept it had it stuck to its original intent to be Emma focused and all about her individual heroes journey. Sadly, this did not happen. It turned on its head about 7 episodes in and became all about Hook. Sure, he's a character and a leading one but so much of this season and arc were supposed to be focused on Emma's self actualization. Her war against the darkness wasn't because she's the Savior and inherently light and therefore at odds with said darkness, but it was because of her boyfriend. Emma even went so far as to speed up a pregnancy (and who knows how that will affect baby GreenHood) but also then to plan and almost execute (pun!) an attempted murder of Zelena--granted, a low character who revels in her villainy with no hope of redemption, but premeditated murder nonetheless. And all of it was for her boyfriend. Not her son; not her mother nor father; not even the town of Storybrooke that Emma is honor bound by cosmic reality to defend. Just Hook. Sure, if you're a shipper then I guess it speaks to you about love and overcoming the odds--even cosmic forces--but to me it's taking Emma Swan--strong feminist, independent but still vulnerable Emma Swan, who's story was about her family and her home and her son--and making her into a Mary-Sue Magical Vagina who heels poor sob story boys with the power of her...womanhood. There is such a level of emotional manipulation with Emma and Hook, who are being touted as an epic love story, that it is truly sickening for me. Hook can only be good if Emma loves him and is with him. When the Darkness infects him, he becomes one of the worst examples of the Dark One that we've seen (though major props to Colin for really going to town with this role). He's a true black-hearted villain who says and does some truly appalling things. But it can all be forgiven because at the last second he saw the light? Emma should kill Hook. Not because of the Darkness or the various Jawas Dark Ones in Storybrooke with whom Hook is cavorting, but because he was a villain who terrorized her, her family, and her town. The same with Cora and Pan, both of whom Emma knew she had to stop without getting all wishy washy. Hook asking Emma to let him die as a hero bothers me so very much because he doesn't get to be the one to dictate the manner upon which he is received after death. Seeing the errors of his ways at the last second and deciding to take on the cost of Darkness himself does not a hero make! It means he realizes how badly he messed up, but it doesn't mean he's a hero!

As for the ending and the journey to Hell, yeah yeah yeah, it's a katabasis and we all know I love those. Honestly, they are some of my favorite things in literature. But for Emma to say that she has to go and save Hook (and resurrect him by giving him half her heart) because it's not fair to Killian that he remain dead just brings up all the bile in my throat. You want to talk about fair? How about Henry who misses his dad and wishes Neal was around to talk to but whom you insisted, Miss Swan, had to stay dead because he died a hero? You couldn't go to the Underworld then? You couldn't let Rumple change history? I don't care about the ships anymore; I don't want Nealfire with this version of Emma Swan, but this show used to be about family and having Neal be alive, with his son and father, breaking the cycle of abandonment, is good enough for me. Also, Emma, did you fall down and hit your head on something hard? Did you forget how Hook spoke to you last episode? Did you forget his cold blooded murder of Merlin? Did you forget how Hook used the love you bear for your child against you in this episode in order to get the shiny sword? Did you forget how, thanks to him, your entire family was almost sucked to Hell? Emma thinks Hook's death is not fair but I call it comeuppance. Hook doesn't have to pay for any of his crimes, does he? Not killing his father; not working with Cora to destroy the heroes; not taking Aurora's heart; not beating and shooting Belle; not speaking to Emma in such a vile and abusive manner. Nope. He doesn't have to pay for any of it. In fact, Hook's going to get rewarded with some Emma Swan lovin' because this show is officially morally bankrupt. Where is your self-worth Emma? Where is your respect? Remember back in season one when Emma issued a laudable creed to Ashley that, "People are gonna tell you who you are your whole life. You just gotta punch back and say, 'No, this is who I am.'" Instead of living by that code this season, Emma lets herself be Hook's emotional punching bag. Her response to Hook telling her that she'll always be an orphan should have been claws-out defense of her family, her son, and her town, all of whom love her so much that they traveled realms to find her. And then to have the audacity to say that precious Killian needs to be saved from the Underworld and brought back to life...I need to move on now, don't I? Fine one more thought. Domestic abuse in narrative, in TV storytelling, can work. It really can. When the writers are consciously aware of what they are writing and making a commentary on the effects of abuse, the signs of abuse, and how to handle it, it works well enough on TV. The writers on OUAT are not self-aware that this domestic and emotional abuse. They are romanticizing it. And it's appalling.

Repetition, Thy Name Is Rumplestiltskin

I thought about leaving this for the notes, but I really need to speak my mind on this low blow. There is something to be said about circular storytelling. When we conceive of the heroes journey, it's often depicted as a circle. The hero sets out, they encounter a strange new world that they are somehow destined to save, they conquer death and rise again, the master of both worlds, fully realized and then they arrive back home, at the end of their journey, the hero and not their former archetype (farmer, lost boy, son, or more often than not, orphan). That's a example of good circular storytelling. It has a beginning, a middle, and an ending that feels earned and organic. Rumplestiltskin being the Dark One again (by some weird mechanics that I don't fully get) is neither earned nor organic. Last season, the writers went as dark as they could with Rumple. He was full on villain, trying to destroy everyone's happy ending. It cost him everything, having already lost Baelfire, his heart darkening to a lump of coal, and losing Belle in the process. What happened after that was a bit of a transformation--granted at the hands of a plot device, but a transformation nonetheless. Rumple's darkness was sucked out of him and he became, against all odds, brave and a hero. A hero worthy enough to pull Excalibur from the stone. He faced off against Dark One Hook. He even tried to give Belle the life she deserved by granting her the means to leave Storybrooke forever and go have adventures in the great wide somewhere. And in the end, it turns out that none of those lessons--the losses, the transformation, the bout of heroism--stick. Not even a little bit. This is not circular storytelling. This is repetition at its most egregious. What the writers should write is Rumple trying to be a good man, live the rest of his life, without magic holding him up. But no, instead, we revert back to Rumple as the Dark One. Literally, back to square one. To add insult to injury, Rumple's new-but-not-really-new status as the Dark One, was revealed after Belle came back to him, believing that he had changed, and they had wild sex in the shop. Rumple has gone to the lowest low there is; he's joined the ranks of characters on OUAT who participate in wonky consent. Rumple lets Belle believe that there is hope for him and their new life together, that he's a hero, and then undoes his fly and proceeds to make the beast with two backs. It's so...disgusting. It's so...disheartening. This used to be my favorite character. This used to be the character I wanted to see redeemed. Rumple wasn't the great Cosmic Evil; he wasn't the Trickster archetype. He was the Father, looking for his lost little boy and doing highly questionable things in the process. It was deep and complicated and complex and both sympathetic and not and it made this show so fresh and interesting. And now? Now Rumple is just straight up villain, no redeeming qualities, no hope, and nothing more than a black hat with no depth. This show was once so complex and nuanced. Now, it's drudgery and as insulting as it gets. Long gone are the strong women, the morals, and the poetry. Now, we're left with parents who leave their kids with fairies to be raised while these so-called heroes go to Hell to break "dead is dead" one more time for Captain Guyliner and all his rape culture values.

And on that note, see everyone in March.

Miscellaneous Notes on Swan Song

--It's a truly bizarre world when Zelena is my favorite character in an episode. She got in some great lines, though. Robin will now be "Robbie!" I suspect we'll see her again, right around the middle of S5B.

--Adam and Eddy: try all you want, but you'll never be Joss Whedon. So, maybe stop trying. This episode was an insult to the amazing "Becoming" (BtVS season 2). 

--Words cannot even begin to describe how scared I am for what this show will do to Greek mythology.

--The Snow and Emma conversation in the vault was really good, but it was also the one and only meaningful conversation they've had all season and it really is too little, too late.

--Um. Where's the Camelot Crew? Did the heroes really just leave their town with Arthur and MindRaped! Guinevere are still out there? With Merida?

--PapaJones was in a sleeping curse and fell in love with his nurse. Mmmmkay. Oh, she died because of the plague. That’s convenient. And seriously, what happened to Liam 2.0?

--The Lake…is Purgatory? I don’t…understand.

--Emma doesn’t break her own darkness. Hook does. Sure, not by TLK, but Hook nonetheless. It would have been *such* a strong message if Emma had done it herself

--How about some thoughts on S5A overall? s5A had potential when it was going to be Emma focused, but it wasn't. It was all about Hook. Even the Camelot Crew, in the end, didn't matter at all. They mattered so little that the show didn't even bother seeing them home. This is to say nothing of all the horrible Magical McGuffins, the continued disregard for the LGBT community, the ongoing racial and class problems, MORE rape and wonky consent story telling, clunky dialogue in which the characters stood around rationalizing and explaining the plot instead of having anything resembling human emotions, horrible timing in which the story either slowed down to a crawl or sped up so fast as to be confusing, and the disregard for previous established mythology. It was sloppy and ill conceived. It feels very much like the writers got bored halfway through and began planning for 5B instead of focusing on 5A. Also, I have never denied that romance is an important part of OUAT (and fairy tales in general) but there is a point when you need to put the brakes on all the romance! And s5A really needed to learn that. Emma had next to no important or significant conversation with her parents but heaven forbid she be separated from Hook (or Regina) for more than an episode. Remember when this show was actually about the power of familial love?

Overall Grade for Season 5A: C-/ D+

Final Episode Ranking for Season 5A:

11. The Broken Kingdom (504)
10. Swan Song (511)
9. Birth (508)
8. The Bear King (509)
7. The Bear and the Bow (506)
6. The Price (502)
5. Broken Heart (510)
4. Siege Perilous (503)
3. Nimue (507)
2. Dreamcatcher (505)
1. The Dark Swan (501)