In Which I Review Once Upon a Time (5x13)

It is always nice to be reunited with an old friend. Time passes and life marches on (unless you're in Hellbrooke) but we, like I stated last week, we--the indomitable human race--are haunted; sometimes we're haunted by friends and relations from our past and our unresolved business with those long gone friends. The problem, of course, arises, when a long lost friend, who was never even hinted at being a long lost friend, shows up as a sad emo and we're expected to pretend like this person really was just so super important to us. I'm sure we've all been through this, right. No? Just Snow White? Okay then. In this week's episode "Labor of Love," the audience was treated (or maybe endured is a better word) to the sudden and inexplicable friendship (and mutual face-licking) between our young Princess Snow and the son of Zeus himself, the biggest hero in the ancient Greek World, Hercules (who is not played by Kevin Sorbo, much like Hades is not being played by James Woods. Honestly, way to drop the ball, OUAT casting department). The episode this week wasn't horrible; not in the same way that other episodes are absolutely horrible. But it was dull, monochromatic and tedious; all TV shows have these episodes, thus aren't uncommon by any stretch of the imagination, but why does it feel that every single Snow or Charming episode (or Snowing, the combined pair) always end up with episodes that are boring and pointless when it comes to plot development? I guess I should be grateful that Young Snow didn't kidnap a baby and infuse it with darkness. Like last week's episode, the theme is reiterated over and over again because that's how themes work: you only get them when they are literally told to you, point blank (hint: no). If I sound overly harsh, I'm not meaning to, but does anyone else remember when Snow episodes were fantastic and moving and showed Snow as an awesome bandit living on the lamb or as a compassionate princess who made the hardest decision any child should ever make? Then again, the author's pen is apparently alive and living in Hellbrooke with unfinished business so expecting character arcs and themes to stretch over several seasons seems like the dream of a mayfly. Grab Cerberus and hold him tight (he's really very sweet once you get to know him). Let's go! 

Girl Meets Demi-God

Let's start with what seems like a pretty obvious fact after five seasons of OUAT: the flashback as a narrative device has long since worn out its welcome. We're at the point in the show's lifespan when the flashbacks are a hindrance instead of a helpmate and often times the flashbacks are crammed into an episode, adding little to nothing to the current arc or even our understanding of the characters. Suddenly, out of the blue, characters who have never interacted before are the best of buds, throwing the timeline and history of the characters into mass confusion. Such was the case this week with Baby Snow White and Hercules, the demi-god wonder boy. First, just to clarify, it's great to see Bailee Madison again. She always brings such an honest portrayal to the screen; a mini Ginny Goodwin who effortlessly captures all of Ginny's mannerism and hallmarks characteristics as if she might actually be Ginny Goodwin from the far past. Apart from the joy at seeing Bailee again, what exactly was I supposed to take away from this flashback? Snow learned how to be a hero and conquered some of her fears with the help of her new godlike pal, Hercules? Okay, well that's nice and all, but it would have been even nicer if that been touched upon at any point in the past five years. It also throws a big ol' feminist wrench in the fact that Snow originally learned how to lead and be a (future) queen from her dying mother, Eva, a woman who told her incredibly young daughter that fulfilling those hard roles was about hard decisions and choices, like not killing another person in order to save someone you loved. That moment-- Snow letting her mother die and realizing just how heavy the crown really is--is far weightier and more meaningful than learning to fire a bow and arrow to stop some bandits. The original message imparted by Eva was a simple one but it was a powerful one and one that fit into the earlier seasons theme of women who depended on one another, helped each other, guided each other, and found solace in each other without the aid of a man, or getting their cues on how to be a hero from a man.

That, of course, sounds like feminist propaganda, so lest anyone think that I'm burning my bras in anger, it is possible (and indeed more than a little possible) for men and women to equally help one another, to give aid to each other without any sort of underlying power dynamic, which is where the show wanted to take itself in the present day. That's really the heart of feminism: not that women are better than men and hate everyone "not man" but that the sexes are equals and can both give and take help, comfort, love, anger, joy, responsibility, and so on and so forth together. And while I've been harping on some of the more questionable moment in terms of feminism, there really is one area that bothered me more: Snow White and her wide-eyed crush on Hercules, he of the rippling muscles, soft doe eyes, and early 2000s floppy hair. I understand, and acknowledge that young teenagers can have crushes and even significant relationships, but most of those latter ones are borne out of similar, long lasting life experiences. There is usually a significant emotional link between the two--Gus and Hazel have cancer; Henry and Violet lost a parent, and so on and so forth. In the flashback, there is a serious inequality; Hercules has all the power and knowledge and bravery; Snow needs all the power, knowledge and bravery and only her new friend (who happens to be "hawt" as the kids say) can provide this to her. It's bothersome for a lot of reasons, the least of it being that Snow is simply too young, too inexperienced, and has known Hercules for too short a time to have learned such valuable life lessons from someone who is equally young (even if he's more experienced in battling). So was there a point to these flashbacks? Only in the smallest way possible. You see, in a season where our characters go to Hell, it is actually possible to run into your former demi-god best friend (and his sad sack of not-a-girlfriend).

Does Hagrid Know His Dog Is On The Loose?

Hey, look, there's a three headed dog residing in Hellbrooke! Also, Hercules appears to have taken the Dexter route in life and become a lumberjack? Maybe he and Mary Margaret can renew their friendship by bonding over their tragic fashion sense. Hercules has gone from a floppy haired teenage wunderkind to being a depressed dead man who, this time around, needs Snow to remind him that "you can't let fear of failure keep you from trying" (theme!). And sure, it's nice to see the gender roles reversed and witness Snow teaching the demi-god a lesson, but at the same time, it's a lesson Hercules already knew and had previously taught the young Snow White. It's not like this is an inversion of gender dynamics; it's one in which the female props up the male by reminding him how simply awesome he is. If they were going for strong women, they failed (I know; the shock is overwhelming, isn't it?). This is, essentially, the main problem with this week's episode: the events are so paralleled as to be repetitive. OUAT has always paralleled their flashbacks with their present day, but it used to feel stronger. Or at least, they were different enough that I wasn't watching the same story play out with only slight changes in the notes. It's because of this that I find I have very little to talk about. Yes, Snow decided she wants to be Snow again and not Mary Margaret anymore. But why now? Hasn't she faced down hardships and been self-confident and brave before? How about when she fought for her daughter against an Ogre? Or said goodbye to the same daughter in S3; wasn't she the most Snow White she's ever been since the Pilot during this moment? Bravery doesn't have to be fighting and winning with bows and arrows be it against bandits or three-headed puppies--and, in fact, I'm getting rather tired of the show selling home the point that heroism is defined by physical prowess. Snow's bravest moment came, post-curse, when she kissed Emma's head in a wordless goodbye, knowing she'd never see her child again. She wasn't Mary Margaret, then. She was Snow flipping White; but apparently it takes Hercules and his trials (sorry, labors) and his bravery to help Snow see sense. It's disturbing and disappointing but as I said above...not exactly shocking.

Miscellaneous Notes on Labor of Love

--Speaking of underwhelming, Megera had the impact of a small pebble, no? I've seen the actress in other things and she's done well so this is clearly a writing issue because she was so dull and lackluster here and very much a damsel in distress as to be completely pointless. A sad reality given how spunky her Disney counterpart is.

--"I miss the gin, the glamour...the gin." Cruella is fabulous and I've missed her.

--The pen has magical essence, is alive, and has unfinished business. Okay, sure. I guess I should expect Chip to come to life and have a sit down talk with Rumple about the fate of his favorite ship before crossing over the bridge to Olympus.

--Emma you lived in the real world for your entire life and have made several Harry Potter jokes before. How did you NOT snarkily suggest that someone play Cerberus a lullaby?

--Hades and Emma meeting was nice and I'm glad the show didn't keep it until the midpoint of the season. It should have felt a bit more weighted, but I can wait for the more cosmological meeting. Speaking of...

--"Why does everyone think that [I can be defeated]? I'm Hades. This is death...." Classic Hero Story: unlocked! Emma Swan, that's your cue.

--Heaven is Olympus. Ooh, keeping it religiously neutral would have been better, I think. Or at least not implying that heaven is a specific mythological place from legend. Does this mean that Mulan from Fictional China and people from Agrabah don't get to go to "the better place" because it's not their mythology? Does this mean that their cultural stories of what happens when you die are wrong? Also, gods really do exist? How does that mesh with the Holy Grail of S5A?

--Hercules would make an excellent Sunday Roast.

In Which I Review Once Upon a Time (5x12)

And lo, Once Upon a Time did celebrate their 100th episode with the maudlin and macabre title "Souls of the Departed" and we all bore witness to the main cast of characters (except Belle, of course) literally take the show into Hell. How's that for a meta commentary? Yes, our favorite (loosely speaking) fairy tale show is back for another round of what I'm sure will be stellar, logical, and heartfelt family narrative. Or, you know, not. I've done a fair amount of thinking this winter with regards to this little show; not necessarily about how I approach the show anymore; that was decided last season (one episode at a time with little to no hope for anything decent), but more along the lines of whether or not, after 100 episodes, this show was "worth it" to begin with. In other words, was season 1-3A worth all the heartache, confusion, anger, and disappointment that came with everything that happened after episode 315 (Neal's death)? Do a few mostly okay, sometimes pretty good, episodes like Shattered Sight, Sympathy for the De Vil, Operation Mongoose part 1, and The Dark Swan, balance out the rest of the show with its rape culture values, misogyny, and focus on romantic love/ships over family? I suppose to put this in OUAT episode terms: was Skin Deep/Manhattan worth Quiet Minds/Swan Song? I don't have an answer. I wish I did, but I don't. At any rate, those big questions aside, the show has gone to Hell (not in a hand basket, but close enough) and we all better settle in for Emma's quest to save the Pirate Wonder by splitting her heart into two. I will repeat something I said at the start of Season 5A: this has potential. Not the romantic Captain Swan aspect of it (that I couldn't care less about), but rather Emma traveling to the Underworld and going against Death. That's cosmic and mega and mythological, everything Emma's story should be. The question is whether or not the writers can keep this arc focused on Emma and not have it devolve into being all about Hook once more. We shall see. Grab your favorite long lost enemy and let's go!

Didn't We Kill You A Few Seasons Ago?

We, the entire human race, are haunted. We are haunted by our pasts, our regrets, things we did and did not do. We are haunted by ephemeral ghosts of yesterday who follow silently behind our footfalls until, at long last, they catch up with us. They always do, in the end. I, for one, am haunted by what this show used to be and what it could have been before it rebooted itself into a show that is a sad parody of its former self. Hence all my big questions at the beginning of the review. There is no denying that the rather in-your-face prominent theme of this episode was unfinished business; how many times did different characters says those two words? Neal, Cora, Rumple, Henry Sr, and I think the list might go on for a bit. The Underworld isn't so much the fire and brimstone Hell we imagine (though, there is some fire in Mount Doom--no really, didn't that look like Mount Doom?) nor the mostly calm realm of the dead in Greek mythology, so much as it is a limbo of people who are waiting to crossover to another place--be it a better or worse location--because they have unfinished business. In a way, this sets up a really interesting premise for the season. If it is true that all the souls can be saved--as Henry Sr was in the end--then Emma's real arc here isn't so much about finding her dead boyfriend, but rather saving the people in the Underworld who can't cross over. It's a meaty and enticing storyline that keeps with her Savior mythology quite nicely. After all, Emma's role as the Savior isn't just breaking curses, it's bringing back the Happy Endings, be they of the small mundane worldly ones or the great cosmic ones, like moving on to receive your ultimate punishment or moving to receive your reward of peace and tranquility. That story beat brings Emma's narrative back to her and her cosmic significance instead of relegating her to someone's girlfriend, which is a much needed shakeup after the disaster that was her own Dark Swan arc. Now, I say all this knowing that Emma will be more focused on Hook than on saving the souls of nameless individuals who haunt the streets of Hellbroke, but it would be nice if her quest to find Hook turned into a quest to save all the souls trapped in this Limbo-like domain. So what--or, maybe better, who--haunts our cast of intrepid characters? Their family of course.

It's certainly not shocking that we see a lot of familiar faces in Hellbrooke (clever name, fandom, I'll go with it). I expected to see Pan and Cora at least; they are the most famous of the seasonal arc villains--the two who really fit into the messed up family dynamic of the show. One of these appearances works far more than the other, though. Cora's mayoral role is tinged with bitterness. It's the part she always wanted to play; Cora's in charge, she's ruling for Hades, sitting in the seat of power. Much like her Wonderland role, she finally got to be queen of a little domain. The difference this time around, however, is that being the mayor-lite isn't what she wants anymore. Regina would have been enough and now Cora needs to see to it that her daughter isn't harmed by the Underworld, a place where Regina is certain to run into some familiar faces. What's disappointing is that Cora hasn't quite learned all her lessons yet; she's still ruthless in her desire to give Regina what she thinks is best for her daughter, including tossing Gollum into Mount Doom. There's a question I asked while I watched this episode and that's "do these people deserve to be saved?" Henry Sr, yes. His death was a tragedy and he himself acknowledges that his greatest regret was not intervening with Cora and Young Regina earlier. And that's basically on par with how most of the fans have read his character; he's a villain by neglect. He doesn't physically or emotionally hurt Regina but Henry Sr never protected her either, as is a parent's role in this world. Cora claims to be giving Regina her best chance by forcing Regina's hand and getting her out of the Underworld but it's really Henry Sr who is giving Regina her best chance--her chance to make amends, to prove her bravery and how far she's come. She's not the Evil Queen anymore who once longed to crush the heart of Snow White; now Regina's working in tandem with her former nemesis to save another soul (whether or not that soul deserves to be saved is another question, and we all know where I stand on that). Henry Sr got his ever after; he crossed the bridge into--oh whatever shall we call this place--paradise, heaven, the land of shiny light and fluffy clouds? But what about Cora? She might have her heart and care more about Regina that she did whilst she was alive and living it up in various red dresses (does the woman own any other color?) but her heart hasn't changed her. She's still willing to do reprehensible things in the name of love. Love might not be a weakness to Cora anymore, but her expression of it isn't exactly on the level.

I'm harping on this because, honestly, the emotional beats between Regina and her father were by far the heaviest and most meaningful and if that sort of resolution can be gotten from other characters over this arc, then it might not be a total wash. You just have to wonder if Cora is capable of the same self-awareness that killing others in the name of love isn't exactly loving. The appearance that did not make the same splash was Peter Pan, though it is always nice to see Robbie Kay back in this role. Like Cora, Peter Pan hasn't quite learned all his lessons. He still only cares about himself; his smooth talk to Rumple about wanting to start over absolutely rings false; it's an obvious contrast to what is happening on stage left with Regina and Henry Sr. I don't even know what to make of Pan's plan because I don't see it happening. I don't see Emma and the others letting Pan switch places with someone (even Dark One Rumple) to allow Peter Pan (a sociopath if ever there was one) back out into the world. Peter's appearance here feels like the writers knew they had to have him back, but couldn't think of a proper storyline so he gets stuck with one that isn't ever going to happen. Maybe I'm wrong, though. But it wouldn't be the only appearance from a dead character that was for the sake of the 100. But, I think we'll save Neal for the notes. I might be too tempted to go on at length otherwise.

Honey, We Gotta Talk About Your Hair

So this isn't James Woods. Thought I'd just get that out of the way in case anyone was confused. It is, however, Hades. It's hard for me to get too firm a read on him since his scene was at the very end and I was distracted by the random pedicure (really, a pedicure?). But Hades does appear to be a fun villain; he was menacing but he has a certain charm about him, like Rumple did back in season one. You were scared, but you couldn't look away because you weren't sure if he was going to smile and grant your every wish or slaughter you where you stood. I get the same vibe off of Hades. However, just to be clear, that CGI hair is appalling, especially when viewed from the side. Hades, here in OUAT, has more of a Devil-Lucifer vibe to him rather than the Greek god for whom he is named. He is set up to be an enemy to life. His domain is full of the dead and he likes it that way. He cannot stand the tick tick tick of the clock as another soul exits the Underworld. I think more than anything, Hades is set up to be the antithesis to Emma. One is a servant of cosmic good and life, and one is the lord of cosmic evil and death. What are the chances that Hades created the Dark Curse, that which ruins lives and happy endings? If Emma's main story this arc isn't so much saving Hook but turns into saving everyone, then Hades has to be stopped. This is really the heart of the hero journey. While the hero goes on epic quests and fights some sort of villain figure, it's really their victory over death that proves them to be the Chosen One or what have you. It's like the writers are killing two birds with one stone; Emma fights a big bad, and the big just so happens to be the representation of death. It's really the big good vs evil battle that has been teased before but always gets watered down to smaller stories. It would be nice if this time it really came down to the ultimate showdown. But, yeah, Hades--turn off the hair. You look ridiculous.

Miscellaneous Notes on Souls of the Departed

--So, shall we talk Neal? It's very hard for me to be objective about this scene, especially since it induces both rage and love. A winning combination, I know. On the one hand, he should absolutely be part of the 100th episode. Baelfire is a huge reason for the show and to not have him there would be a disservice to everything the show was. It was also just beautiful to see Emma and Neal together, catching up and talking about things that matter--like Henry. On the other hand, the scene played as a "writer insert excuse." What I mean by that is that while there were some really nice emotional moments, the real reason for the scene was to tell the audience that Neal had moved on because he has no unfinished business (malarkey. Absolute malarkey) and that we wouldn't be seeing him in the Underworld and can't save him because he's in a better place. In other words, the writers are trying (one final time) to tell their audience (who keep wondering) why Neal can't come back, if not for Swanfire then for Henry.

--Emma would have come after Neal too but she didn't know she could go to the Underworld. Okay, sure. But you could have let Rumple fix history like he wanted in the S3 finale but instead you told him that Neal died a hero so he has to stay that way (while now claiming that Hook is a hero and needs to be rescued). It's a bipolar world you live in, Emma Swan.

--Henry trying to find his dad and not getting to see him hurt me more than I wish it did.

--"Your questions are pointless." Because the writers are making this up as they go?

--Adding to the special 100th episode appearances were the Blind Witch of season 1 fame (Gingerbread or Children?) and James, who totally made out with Snow in Hellbrooke's version of Granny's.

--Adding to the confusion of the show's mythology, the Underworld-That-Is-Not-Really-The-Underworld is surrounded by 5 rivers, just like the mythological Hades. 

--I'm sorry, but Jiminy is in Snow's shirt because....?

--How did Henry Sr get Snow's heart and switch it out with another?

--Welcome back, everyone. It's been a quiet hiatus and now we've got another 11 episodes ahead of us. Here's hoping we make it out of the Underworld without too much rage.

In Which I Review Sleepy Hollow (3x13)

As Abbie says, sometimes it would be nice if the stories were just stories. However, that's not how Sleepy Hollow rolls, certainly not in this week's episode "Dark Mirror." This is a pretty standard episode of Sleepy Hollow, which is not ever a bad thing. We have Ichabod and Abbie facing down a legendary and mythic monster--who turns out to be pretty real--and, because it's Sleepy Hollow, also happens to have a connection to a Founding Father. We have some mythological development, some danger, and some good ol' fashioned adventure. It's a welcome change after last week's loose-ends episode. This, maybe more than any other episode since saving Abbie, felt like Sleepy Hollow at its finest. The charm of the show comes from Ichabod and Abbie working together to stop the various evils that inexplicably find their way to Sleepy Hollow (I swear this small town is sitting on several Hellmouths) and it's when the show highlights those charming interactions that we get a very solid hour of TV. But, again, like I mentioned last week, it's also becoming so rote that I  worry if there's a conversation to be had. But, for this week, the stories get some much needed depth and thus my worries are assuaged, at least for the moment. Grab your favorite alchemy symbol, try not to worship it, and let's go! 

The biggest selling point for this episode is actually Pandora and the Hidden One. Finally, after several exasperating episodes where they simply sit around and bemoan their fate, the gruesome twosome were given some much needed color. In the first half of this season, Pandora was a fairly compelling and properly creepy villain. She seemed unpredictable and obviously had a long game going on that was enjoyable to watch week after week. Once the Hidden One entered the scene, he began to suck all the life from Pandora--both literally and narratively. The two have felt incredibly ineffectual and lackluster for quite some time, but in case I had any doubts, Sleepy Hollow had a plan. Not only was the power dynamic between the two meant as a contrast to Ichabod and Abbie, but it also does a nice job setting up the backstory between the two ancient beings. The two villains were never equals; one was literally a servant to the other. For this particular story--the sort of which Abbie laments always turn our to be true--we have to go back in time, to what historians often call the mythological time. This is a time that is before history; not only before humans wrote down and recorded anything but also a time when our world was categorically different than the way it is now; and in this universe, a time when gods roamed the earth and held humans captive in their sway. I don't want to go into a whole lot of plot (because that's not what a review is) so instead we can discuss how the story here plays into the arc of the season. It seems pretty apparent that the Hidden One's goal is simply to recreate his former life--one where he was all powerful, a god, and humans brought him cups of blood everyday as an offering. Pleasant guy, I know. I think there's a narrative connection here to Ichabod, strangely enough. Both Ichabod and the Hidden One are men out of time.

Ichabod and the Hidden One have struggled with what the world became while they slept, hidden away underground. Ichabod eventually adapted, even to the point of wanting to become a citizen of this new world. The Hidden One desires nothing more than to go back to his glorious past. All he needs is a green light at the end of a dock--wait, that's Gatsby. But the message of both figures is the same: you can't recreate the past, no matter how hard you try. Ichabod tried with Katrina, to go back to their happy marriage but two many bridges had been burnt. It's a lesson that the Hidden One hasn't learned. It's not surprising, then, that the magical object of the week is a literal Sands of Time in an hourglass; a new world (which is really the old world) begins now. While the power dynamic between the Hidden One and Pandora is already pretty messed up, we see another point of contrast with the villains and our witnesses. Abbie never tried to recreate a supposed perfect past with Ichabod; in fact, she even went back in time to Ichabod's past and still knew that it was the future that mattered. Pandora, by contrast, only wants to recreate the Hidden's One past, and you have to wonder if she's all the keen on it. After all, her past was as a slave, with a brief moment in the sun before it all ended again. Her power is evaporating, her box is taken, and her own desires and agency are on hold while the Hidden One gets what he wants. We are not boats, beating against the current, borne ceaselessly into the past. We move forward; humanity moves forward. The Hidden One cannot win because what he desires goes against the very fiber of nature. Ichabod and Abbie aren't just safe guarding Sleepy Hollow; their protecting the very laws of nature and the universe. Heroes, the pair of them. Even if one of them might be ever so slightly enslaved by a demonic symbol? Again, I have no idea what to do with that but, as Abbie, who had some of the most on point lines of the night said, the first step in solving a problem is admitting there is one. Abbie has asked for help. Together Team Witnesses will pull through. The cosmic nature dictates: the good guys win.

Miscellaneous Notes On Dark Mirror

--The Jersey Devil was a perfectly fine episode villain, but the real meat lies with the Hidden One and Pandora. And if I'm being honest, a colonial alchemist who turned himself into a goat, snake, scorpion was more silly than anything.

--Speaking of Mr. Hidden, might he actually be Set? I had though Amun-Ra, but if the goal was to destroy his brother, Set makes a certain amount of sense. Or, possibly, Mr. Hidden is an archetype for, simply, corrupt and evil divinity and has no particular mythological callback. Along the same lines, Pandora's story resembles the Greek story in the barest sense.

--Joe and Jenny had a cute little side adventure. Glad to see the more playful, less life and death, side of their relationship.

--Ben Franklin used to put warm spoons on..."not his nose." Gross!

--Ichabod's reaction to the hold the symbol has on Abbie was perfect for how these two characters have developed. He won't judge her, he won't condemn her. He just wants to help, if she'll let him. These two, I swear.

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.