In Which I Review Once Upon a Time (6x21 and 6x22)

The end. It's how all good fairy tales finish their tales. The villain defeated, the lovers reunited, the world of chaos righted into a world of order; and they all lived happily ever after. The end. While it is true that OUAT has been renewed for a seventh season, in so many ways this year's finale "The Final Battle part 1 and part 2" felt like a series finale. It was designed to wrap up the story of Snow White, Prince Charming, their daughter and how she, a lost, lonely, orphan saved an entire people. What comes next is really anyone's guess. There's a new generation, a new storybook to open and explore. But for six years we've been a part of this story, this family and suddenly it's time to say goodbye. It feels...weird, to be perfectly honest. I know I'm pretty critical of OUAT and what I feel are some truly poor stories but, at the same time, they were my stories. I knew Emma; I knew Rumple and Snow and Regina. Not liking the stories presented doesn't mean that I don't have some sort of attachment to them. After all, I'm still here with my little reviews week after week, aren't I? Seeing so many of these characters leave--and knowing that next year is something I can't predict or seeing coming like I have in the past--is a strange sensation. Am I getting sentimental? I suppose I am. For the Charmings, then, one last time. Let's go!

Happy Endings 

If there has been one major through-line for the entirety of season six, a season that has jumped around from plot thread to plot thread more than other seasons before it, it was Emma Swan. Emma has always been at the center of the story as Savior, Mother, Daughter, and as just Emma, but this year she's come more into focus as large portions of the story were devoted to giving Emma her happy ending, pushing her past those final hurdles to self-actualization. I suppose it's appropriate then that this finale, this final hurrah for Emma Swan, is derivative of season one. Around and around and back home again, the circle of the heroes journey goes like meticulous clockwork. But before you can reach the final destination, it's important to look back from whence you came which is really what this season finale is; Emma Swan this is your life! Yes, there's some plot nonsense about the Black Fairy but this finale could easily swap in any old villain into this story because it's less about the actual villain and more about what she represents: isolation, loneliness, those things that Emma has been fighting for six years. In order to show how far Emma has really come, the writers take her--and us by extension--back to an inverted season one. Emma's cursed this time around, a new set of memories in which believing Henry about fairy tale characters, magic, and curses put her in the mental hospital. This new curse also has the neat effect of casting all her family members (except her son, tellingly) into another realm. Once again, like she was for the first twenty-eight years of her life, Emma is seemingly alone and cut off. Except, of course, she's not and never was, which you'd think the Black Fairy would note and remember given that Emma literally sang her way to togetherness last week but that's all of apiece with the (and here's that word again) haphazard approach to this season. Nothing quite gels the way it should even though the writers are reaching deep into their and our collective memory to make everything feel like a nice full circle back to season one. If there was one reaction I constantly had during this two hour finale, it was "huh?" Emma's belief keeps all the realms alive and active (but wasn't affected by the 28 years she didn't believe in anything or for the whole span of human history before Emma was born); only light can snuff out light and Gideon is apparently light enough to go up against the Savior; the Black Fairy's curse is broken with her death not by any true love's kiss and Emma is saved from her sword wound by true love's kiss even though she's no longer cursed! All of it was rushed and sloppy and really underwhelming but the intent behind it softens the blow a bit.

Snow White says it best (she often does) when she remarks that The Final Battle isn't a literal battle but it's a battle for Emma's soul. Both episodes hinge on one critical moment and it's not the moment Emma faces down Gideon and it's not the moment the final Curse is broken with the Black Fairy's (super easy) death. No, it's the moment Emma, in her red jacket, chooses to come back to Storybrooke and tells Henry that while she doesn't believe in fairy tales and magic and curses and saviors, she wants to be the person that does believe. That is some serious self-actualization right there. Emma could have easily left, lived in Boston forever, totally un-bothered by any of this weekly nonsense. She could have had that day off she lamented about back in season three's finale "Going Home." Emma would be none the wiser about what was going on in Storybrooke or any other realm that pops out of existence with her dying belief. If this season began with Emma lamenting being the Savior and learning about the fate of all Saviors and wanting to run from it, then it's absolutely fitting that it ends with Emma wanting to be the Savior, choosing that path that is hard and largely untrod upon that really makes her the Savior. So sloppy, haphazard, and frankly a little boring in places, yes, but fitting. A fitting end to Emma Swan. Her reward isn't glory or ascension or apotheosis. It's something much smaller, something much calmer, and something much more human. Emma is, after all, a human Savior. Her mythicness is concrete but she is first and foremost of this world; she's a new fairy tale, one that is grungy and dirty and a little bit sad in places. No, Emma's reward isn't to achieve godhood; it is, quite simply, to live. Emma gets to live a life she never thought she'd have. And, it's cliche and it's overwrought, but surely....surely to live would be an awfully big adventure.

All of this is to say that it's time to leave Emma aside. Her story is over, that book is closed (sort of literally there at the end). We're moving into a different territory and to borrow from one of my favorite franchises, welcome to OUAT: The Next Generation, staring Lucy Mills! Hey little girl, are you the new Savior or the new Author? The show didn't really make it clear, but I suppose that's the point. If it was clear I might not tune in. I don't know what to do with a lot of this, honestly. It's not surprising that the show is gong back to its roots with a little kid showing up at a door and demanding that the adult inside follow them. It's a new heroes journey (though, who's exactly?) and I'm sure it will follow much of the same pathways that Emma's hero journey followed. The new Savior has to save a realm, a people, the happy endings and there will be talk of true love and hope and belief. That's the nice thing about archetypes: change the characters, keep the story the same.  It's another call to adventure! Are you coming along?

Miscellaneous Notes on The Final Battle part 1 and part 2

--I suppose we need to discuss the elephant in the room, huh? OUAT has been renewed for a seventh season but with a massive cast shakeup. The actors and actresses who play Emma, Snow, Charming, Henry, Belle, and Zelena will not be returning for another year. This leaves Hook, Rumple and Regina as leading the series. I have committed myself to watching (and reviewing) OUAT until the (possibly bitter) end but for the record, I'm not sure this revamped and rebooted series is going to be the fresh start the writers and network are hoping for.

--“If she thinks she can rip this family apart…curses have never stopped us before.”

--The musical cues while Hook was walking around the giant's table were really cool.

--How does Emma have third person omniscient memories? She actually remembers seeing herself walk down the aisle!

--Holy horrible outfits, Aladdin and Jasmine! Wow those getups the costume department forced on to them are miserable.

--"Hello there, Mummy.”

--Sven is my very favorite character. More Sven. Always.

--“Truthfully? The beanstalk that fell on me gave me pause” (I will miss Snowing. I will miss them, miss them, miss them.)

--Belle’s cursed personality is a shut in. That actually makes loads of sense given that she’s famous for wanting “adventure in the great wide somewhere.”

--Belle and Rumple get a fresh start without having to actually talk through their issues! So many healthy relationships on this show.

--As is tradition, here my final thoughts on season 6B. It's really hard to grade this arc since the first several episodes were devoted to wrapping up last arc's dangling threads: Charming's father, the Evil Queen, Aladdin and Jasmine. The real story of 6B, Gideon and the Black Fairy, didn't get properly off the ground until episode 16 so, in effect, we only had four episodes of Black Fairy plot before the big musical episode and then the finale. That's simply not enough time to build a believable and coherent plot. Jamie Murray did good work as the Black Fairy, as did Giles Matthey with Gideon, but when you look back at the more well rounded villains, like Cora, the one thing the Black Fairy and Gideon didn't have was time. It's that haphazard approach I keep bringing up; if the Black Fairy is supposed to be the biggest and baddest evil in this universe, then she needed tobe built, explored, and fleshed out in more than just two flashbacks. I'm still not sure what her motivation for anything was; just because she's "evil" and Emma's good? How vague and asinine is that! Her reasoning can't even be rooted in her son, Rumple, because she severed him from his Savior destiny when he was only a few weeks old. On top of a frustrating villain, the magical MacGuffins really ran amok this time around. Every single week there was a new one, each more eye-roll worthy than the last, the worst being the True Love Flower that awoke Snow and Charming in the middle of the original Cursed years, retconning a large portion of not just season one but the entire premise of the show. I have my typical complaints about out of character and anti-feminist moments from the likes of Emma (who really took a turn toward the horrifying with each new terrible outfit and overly clingy moment); some squicky moments from Belle who goes back and forth in terms of attitude about her husband more than any sane (or well written) woman should. This isn't to say that there weren't some good pieces here and there, though. The musical does stand out as a big shake up and invigorated the show, if only for an hour. The actors are mostly still hitting it out of the park, especially Robert Carlyle as Rumple in any scene he had with Gideon. It was also nice to see a lot of returning characters, probably for the last time, like Archie, the dwarves, Tink, Malcolm, August and Gepetto.

Final Episode Ranking for S6B (lowest to highest):

12. "Awake" (6x17)
11. "A Wonderous Place" (6x15)
10. "Ill-Boding Patterns" (6x13)
9. "Where Bluebirds Fly" (6x18)
8. "Mother's Little Helper" (6x16)
7. "The Final Battle, part 1" (6x21)
6. "The Final Battle, part 2" (6x22)
5. "Tougher Than The Rest" (6x11)
4. "Page 23" (6x14)
3. "Murder Most Foul" (6x12)
2. "The Black Fairy" (6x19)
1. "The Song In Your Heart" (6x20)

Final Grade for S6B: C

--See you all in September!

In Which I Review Doctor Who (10x5)

It's amazing how deceptive promotional material can be. When the ad for this week's episode "Oxygen" aired, following last week's episode, I internally groaned quite a bit. It appeared to be a bottle episode, set almost entirely in space, where there's some sort of countdown until everyone dies and the Doctor and Bill just happen to stumble into this problem even though
"space station" wouldn't be on anyone's list of places or times to travel when the entirety of universal history is open to them. It seemed a fairly standard piece of NuWho, a one-off that doesn't leave any lasting impressions and is quickly forgotten a few days after airing. Boy, was I wrong about all of that. It's true that this is a very classic episode of Doctor Who with a whole lot of running down corridors and an inexplicable and close save at the end of the day, but there are a few points that make this week's episode more than just a typical danger-in-space sort of romp. Take a deep breath, monitor your oxygen levels and let's go!

On one level, this week's episode works as a commentary against the dangers of a modern capitalist society. Like any good science fiction story, Doctor Who doesn't stray from meta naval gazes that reflect the world we, the audience, currently live in. Remember two episodes back when the real crux and villain of the week was white privilege and the otherization of anyone who did not fit into the white hetero nomenclature (like Bill). This week's enemy is less tangible because they are unseen, though I would argue the villain goes hand in hand with the white privilege thesis set up two weeks ago for surely the overlords who decided that their workers lives are expendable, because they are no longer making as much money as they were previously, are members of that white privilege sect. In this case, however, the workers are from all races, genders, and at least in Bill's case, sexuality. These workers are not "others" because of any visible difference but rather by station and circumstance. Workers versus job creators, as it were. These unseen but deeply felt overlords get to decide how much human life matters and how much it's worth; it's the final line in a capitalist society where we make commodities out of everything. Human beings become objects, goods that can be exchanged and are easily expendable when their worth has depreciated. Our capitalist society is already set up like this, though many are loathe to admit it. Workers give their time, their effort, their labor, their blood, sweat, tears, their bodies, and their creative genius in exchange for wages. If the worker stops being productive or is no longer able to give any of the above, they are terminated. Granted, terminated in our society does not mean death but instead "firing" but the end result is largely the same. The worker's life has been deemed not valuable for the company anymore and whoever is in charge gets to determine the worker's net worth. Doctor Who is making a very bold political and social statement here where even the oxygen we breathe costs money and humans can be gotten rid of when they are taking up space and resources. It seems absurd except that it also felt too real and too likely. What I like most with this particular salient point is that the Doctor bests the overlords not by waving his magic wand but by beating them at their own game. If the overlords want to save money, it's now cheaper to keep the workers alive because the alternative is to lose their space drill, which I'm sure costs more than a pretty penny. It's not emotion, it's practical. The Doctor does not convince the overlords of the value of a single life, but speaks to their profit and loss,the language that matters for these job creators. I wouldn't go so far as to say that Doctor Who is advertising we all storm Wall Street and overturn tables of money and hold the exchange hostage but the episode does make a compelling point about being alert to how these sorts of mentalities--the expendable nature of human life--comes about. Given that the current American President is a multi-millionaire "job creator" who hired other business men to fill the most important positions in government, I'd say it's a lesson well learned.

The second item of interest in this week's episode is whatever the hell is happening with the Doctor. I've been sitting on my hands for the first four episodes of this season, only making random mentions of Checkov's Vault and the Doctor's great oath in my notes but not lingering on it more than that. I'm still not sure how to unpack this year's major plot points except to note that Nardole isn't just a nag; he's absolutely determined to keep the Doctor on Earth for the safety of said tiny blue planet! It had seemed like an exaggeration, that some figure behind a locked and impenetrable set of doors could so ruin the Earth, but given Nardole's final speech to the Doctor in the school office whatever is behind those locked doors could cause irreparable harm. Which brings us to the Doctor and his newest condition: he's blind. There's a fairly famous axiom that says there are none so blind as though who will not see and I have to ponder if we can apply it to the Doctor here. Whoever is behind the Vault--Master, Mistress, some other figure from the great Who lore--has gained a certain amount of affection from the Doctor. He speaks to the person; he tells them stories; he's given him or her a piano to keep them company. The Doctor is not a cruel Time Lord, though with his godlike powers he certainly could be, but there's something genuinely sad going on with this figure behind the Vault, as if the Doctor hates what he's doing and is trying to atone. His blindness might not be literally and directly associated with this looming mystery but its placement in the story--at the end when Nardole is reading the Doctor the riot act--is telling. The Doctor is blind to the repercussions of not keeping his oath; the Doctor's blindness is working not only on a literal level but on a metaphorical one too. He can't see the danger that lurks just downstairs, silently tucked out of sight but not so out of mind.

Miscellaneous Notes on Oxygen 

--"Space....the final frontier." Yes, let's combine all my favorite science-fiction things into one. I approve!

--The BBC should probably get the rights to the idea of "The Walking Dead in Space" before AMC snatches it up and makes it into a seven series show.

--"What do you want from me?" "The truth." "Don't be unreasonable."

--I've been questioning what Nardole's purpose is, and I still don't quite know, but he's got excellent comedic chemistry with Bill and the Doctor so that's a step in the right direction.

--"I thought I sent you to Birmingham for a packet of crisps!" "Yeah. I saw through your clever ruse."

--I don't have much to say on Bill this week but she continues to shine as our new companion. I thought her "death" scene was very emotional. I also like that the Doctor doesn't seem bothered by all the hugs.

--"Do people ever hit you?" "Only when I'm talking."

--So, what does dying in space have to do with crop rotation?

--"I've got some spare eyes somewhere. I think they're from a lizard..."

In Which I Review American Gods (1x2)

"Angry," says the African spider god Anansi "is good. Angry gets shit done." When people discuss gods and their characteristics we tend to think of them as benevolent figures full of love and warmth. After all, the most popular metaphor for god in the western world is that of a father. What I think is often missing from the conversation about godhood is the raw power and how these cosmic figures wield said power. This is also where it's pretty handy to know some non-western traditions about gods and the awesome energy that emanates from them. I'm using awesome here not in the colloquial sense of something being "cool" but awesome in the classic sense of stunning to the point of fear. The gods of the classic world weren't just archetypes for farmers and fathers; they were warriors, patrons of blood and battle. They rode mythical beasts into the fray. They controlled every aspect of the world and their wrath was seen in the flashes of lightening that flickered across the sky and their anger was heard in the rolling thunder claps. Gods are not devoid of emotion; they are emotion. Unfiltered, unrestrained emotion. And the gods in this week's episode "The Secret of Spoon"? Oh, they are angry, my readers. Very angry. Grab your checker board and let's go!

Shadow Moon has a lot of reasons to be angry. After three years in prison, he's released early only to learn that his wife died in a rather compromising position; Mr. Wednesday puts it a little more aptly, bluntly, and frankly crassly than I shall. In the wake of his newly found freedom, Shadow is tasked with the thankless job of cleaning up Laura's mess. It's a dirty and sad job but Shadow is almost clinical and methodical about it. He has to be; if he pauses in his tasks then he remembers what Laura did to him while Shadow served his time. He packs the boxes, he tapes them up. He puts everything that was the Moon's life together in neat little packages that he can safely store away. Until, that is, Shadow comes across a photo that reminds him that while he was off serving time in jail, missing Laura and counting the days until their reunion, she was getting erect penis pictures from Shadow's best friend. When confronted with these (ahem) hard truths--that Laura claimed to love him but was also screwing his best friend--Shadow has two options. On the one hand, he can process the grief slowly, go through the motions as they come from sadness to confusion to regret to anger. On the other hand, he can bottle it all up. Suppress the rage because as Mr. Wednesday says, "you only obligated to feel bad about this for so long." It's an interesting way to look at this whole sorry situation because Mr. Wednesday is equally angry. Not about Laura Moon, to be sure, but about the situation he and his people are in. The show is still dancing very vaguely around what these plans are, why Mr. Wednesday is so enraged, and even what exactly Mr. Wednesday is so I'll refrain from laying out his grand plan but make no mistake that under this calm, jovial, and charming exterior Mr. Wednesday is all thunderclaps and lightening bolts. He's on a mission; this is a mission he needs Shadow for and when he hears that aberrations like Tech Boy and Not-Really-Lucille-Ricardo are talking to him, engaging him, tempting him to their side of whatever war is going on, Mr. Wednesday is pretty angry. And that gets shit done. This week, we get to see more of Mr. Wednesday's opening gambit. It has something to do with recruitment of old friends; friends who, like Czernobog and his relatives, aren't exactly thrilled to see him.

If Shadow Moon is fighting an uphill battle to keep all his emotions over Laura in check, then Mr. Wednesday is fighting a much more visual uphill battle against his rather stubborn, obstinate and morose friends. Our introduction to Czernobog isn't the same as our introduction to other larger than life characters. Anansi on the slave ship was breathtaking in his anger and hatred; Mr. Wednesday is charming and mysterious, almost Santa Claus like with his his full bellied laugh and twinkling eyes. Czernobog though? No, Czernobog isn't even remotely charming, covered in dried blood and smoking a cigarette down to the last few ashes. He's definitely angry, like Anansi, but his anger is less powerful, soul stirring and more subdued, a sort of ennui that makes everyone around him roll their eyes. Anansi's anger is a call to action; Czernobog's anger barely registers. Czernobog's anger boils down to his own self image and self worth as it directly relates to his own strength and job in the modern world. There was a time, claims Czernobog, when his mighty arms and steel hammer got the thankless jobs done. His position as cow-killer required brute strength but with a delicate touch. After all, in his line of work, you need to be able to kill a cow with one blow, not multiple. Because he was able to do this, Czernobog's manliness was intact. This subtext becomes text quite rapidly as Shadow visualizes Czernobog stroking his (very phallic) hammer as blood spurts from the head. Czernobog once felt useful, needed. Now? Not so much. That's what at the root of Czernobog's own anger. His utility, and by extension his manliness (dare I say, godliness), is long gone, replaced by a machine that can do what once only he could do. It's the same message Not-Really-Lucy-Ricardo gives Shadow in the aisles of a pseudo-Walmart: these creatures, these Media and Tech creatures, are the new wave of the future. They can do whatever Mr. Wednesday and Czernobog did for mankind eons ago, but faster and better. These machines and whirl and give instant satisfaction and gratification; they are replacing whatever Mr. Wednesday and Czernobog were/are. People don't really need Mr. Wednesday and Czernobog anymore in the way they once did. And that's really why Czernobog makes Shadow the deal over checkers. He needs to feel that control over another life again, to know that he still has it in him to take a life with just one swing of his hammer, swung from his powerful and some might say godly arms (plus, he's kind of just an asshole). The anger of these various men--Shadow, Mr. Wednesday, Czernobog--radiates off them. Shadow's anger is fairly human in its nature, but as for the other two? Well. I guess we'll just have to wait and see what really lurking behind all this anger.

Miscellaneous Notes on the Secret of Spoons

--"Take swimming lessons. This is how we get stereotypes!" Everything about Anansi's introduction was breathtaking and I'd love to quote the whole speech but to pick up the social commentary of last week with Shadow's lynching we have the extra powerful, "you don't even know you're black yet. You just think you're people!"

--Did the show try to find the smallest bathtub possible for Ricky Whittle to sit in?

--It's a nice touch that the icon for "Motel America" is a buffalo, similar to the one Shadow saw in one of his dreams last week. Though, the one on Shadow's t-shirt is lacking in the whole fire-from-his-eyes thing.

--"I'm not going to steal from you!" "If you can't look out for yourself how the hell are you going to look out for me?"

--Gillian Anderson as Not-Really-Lucy-Ricardo was magnificent.

--"We are now and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow; and he's ain't even yesterday anymore."

--Know Your Gods: I had quite a slew to choose from this week but because of Orlando Jones's defining and eye popping opening, let's meet Anansi, the West African and Caribbean spider god. Anansi is often wrapped up in the archetype of the trickster but this isn't quite accurate. He's not the African version of Norse mythology's Loki, in other words. His cunning and trickery do set him apart but Anansi is, first and foremost, the spirit of storytelling and stories. There's a very famous legend on how Anansi came to have all the stories of the world in his possession and it goes a little something like this: the sky god Nyame, who is often Anansi's father, held all the stories of the world and there were no stories on Earth. Given that West African and Caribbean mythologies (where Anansi hails from) are largely oral cultures, not having any stories to tell is a bleak world, indeed. So Anansi went to his father, the sky god Nyame, and asked if he could buy all the stories of the world. Nyame set an impossible price; he wanted three other creatures brought to him, creatures that would surely gobble up a little spider like Anansi. But Anansi was a clever spider god. He managed to trick the python, the leopard, and the hornets and delivered them up to Nyame. As a reward, Anansi was made the god of storytelling. A god of storytelling played a vital role in a culture that was so alive with oral mythologies. Anansi also becomes so heavily associated with slavery and the slave/master relationship because, after all, Anansi is a small creature who usually manages to overpower a larger more formidable one; Anansi shares certain characteristics with Br'er Rabbit, though the latter is a predominately African-American legend.

In Which I Review Once Upon a Time (6x20)

Musical episodes are tricky. If music and random bouts of singing are not built into the DNA of the show, a musical can feel like a shark jump moment or so totally disconnected from the universe of the show that it becomes cringe worthy. There are some non-musical shows that make singing and dancing work for them. Buffy the Vampire Slayer's "Once More With Feeling" is, hands down, one of the best episodes of TV you'll ever see. Grey's Anatomy's own musical episode, "The Song Beneath The Song," is an example of a failed musical venture that didn't make sense. What set those two apart? Quite a bit like genre for a start--I can easily believe that a demon comes to Sunnydale and curses everyone to sing\--but also that Buffy's musical was heavy with development. The episode did not stop the flow of the story but actually pushed everything forward with some very big, very deep moments of clarity for multiple characters plus it utilized darker themes the lend themselves to song anyway, like depression, isolation, and abuse. I think it's fair to say that OUAT's own musical venture, "The Song In Your Heart," tried to be more in line with Buffy's than with Grey's; it's an Emma-centric episode that pushed its leading lady into the next stage of her on-going journey by way of personal revelation. This isn't only to sing the praises (pun!) of this episode because it was rather sloppy and (here's that word again) haphazard in its execution of deploying the same tired themes and story beats for the characters. Also, frankly it has a bit of a misogynistic overtone. In other words, it's an OUAT episode. But with singing. Warm up your own vocal chords and let's go!

Sing Me A Song

Let's face it: this episode was always going to be a tough one for me to blog. I'm not exactly CaptainSwan's biggest fan (lolz). But, I was an Emma Swan fan from the beginning and while I believe her character has undergone a radical and negative transformation over the past three years into someone I don't particularly like, I do believe the show can be at its best when it focuses on Emma's journey into both being a true Savior and into selfhood. With that said, I was delighted that this episode did not turn into a full on, no holds bar, CaptainSwan love-fest but instead was really about Emma, her parents, and her son. It's where the show began and it's still the sweet spot for OUAT. I do want to start with some negative aspects of this episode first before dovetailing into the more positive moments of the show so let's consider why this final hurrah for Emma's character is happening on the day of her wedding. The culmination of this week's plot is Emma realizing that she's never been alone, that she's carried her parents, and everyone's, magical "song" in her heart; she does this with Henry's help. All of this is in the wheelhouse of OUAT's own specific brand of family relations. The issue happens that directly following this moment is Emma's wedding, in fact the scene transitions from Emma's triumph to Hook standing at the alter as if the final moment of selfhood is marriage and that for Emma to truly complete her journey she has to be unified with another person, while wearing a (truly ugly) white gown. It's fairy heternormative and misogynistic that a woman's big moment is a wedding; the question to ask is did this episode and this moment in Emma's journey need a wedding to feel complete? No; it didn't. Emma's emotional growth would still have happened if the wedding had not. So, you might be asking yourself, why not have the wedding if the emotional growth would happen regardless, the answer is that the wedding adds a sour note to that emotional journey.

Please understand that I'm not suggesting that Hook and Emma shouldn't be married (though, long time readers will know my feelings on that subject well). I am suggesting that the wedding should have happened before Emma's big moment of self-actualization so that it does not feel like the proverbial cherry on top of the Emma-cake. Emma's big moment is realizing that she's never truly been alone and that moment against the Black Fairy, singing her heart out and breaking the spell on her whole family was powerful. It was an incredibly powerful visual (true story: I cried a lot during that number). I know I've been hard on Emma these last few years but right then, right there, that's the Emma I loved back in seasons 1 and 2. Emma is important because she's Emma Swan; she is full of the indestructible love from everyone in her life. She's not just someone's mother or someone's daughter or someone's wife. This has noting to do with walls or not being open to love; it has to do with Emma looking in the mirror and liking herself, seeing herself as a healthy, happy person. This is why the wedding is such a disconnect here in this episode! The show is promoting a rather conservative viewpoint (no woman is complete until she has a man!) that is perfectly encapsulated by Emma's wedding dress which is not only plain hideous but, because it's an exact replica of Grace Kelly's 1950s wedding dress when she married Prince Rainer of Monaco, it also pushes Emma back into a bygone era when women were defined by their marital status. If you're curious about what kind of outfits Emma used to be dressed in, and get a rough idea of how Emma's wedding dress should have been imagined, I'd suggest looking at the season two promotional photos of Emma in her father's armor but made female. Emma putting on a white 1950s dress and marrying a man should not receive a Super Special Episode and, let's face it, a large part of this episode is about that event. There's some retconish (and highly enjoyable) plot salad about magic songs in the heart or something but this episode is specifically designed to get Emma and the audience the alter. And that's my biggest issue with this week's episode. The culmination of Emma's character journey when she realizes that she matters, when she truly accepts herself as Emma Swan with all her faults should get the Super Special Episode. This episode should end with Emma singing her solo, driving back the Black Fairy, and standing shoulder to shoulder with her entire family. But tacking on the wedding makes Emma's journey all about this particular matrimonial final moment.

Since I've riffed on some of the social commentary within this episode, let's move on to what did work this week. First, how about a huge round of applause for the cast who gave this musical their all and looked like they were having the time of their lives? That sort of enthusiasm is infectious and I would be lying if I said I wasn't smiling through a lot of this cheesy escapade into singing and dancing. There are a lot of good moments like Hook's pirate rock song which is cheeky and clever and done exceptionally well by actor Colin O'Donoghue. Lana Parrilla was born to play the over the top crazy that is the Evil Queen hamming it up in song and dance and even the tiny musical moments--like Jiminy Cricket getting an insect solo--were heart warming and endearing. A musical episode needs to be entertaining; it needs to not be solely bogged down in the muck and misery of what the characters are going through with the arc villain. You need Tara singing to Willow in the sun and a guy celebrating the fact that the dry cleaners got the mustard out. "The Song In Your Heart" has those moments in spades so that even though the flashback is the exact same kind of flashback we've seen so many times before--The Evil Queen getting ready to destroy Snowing; Snowing realizing that their love is enough to save the day someday--it felt different; it felt fresher and more invigorated, like the actors weren't simply just going through the same tired motions. It's cheesy and it's campy but it's perfectly inline with the over the top type of drama and character OUAT does best. Everyone really stood out this week and, yes, good performances can absolutely override some questionable social themes. There are times when shaking up the status quo is a good thing and while I wouldn't recommend that OUAT ever try this format again, this was a proper shake up that gets us ready for the final two episodes of this season.

Miscellaneous Notes on The Song In Your Heart

--For the sake of my own sanity, I am going to skip over even thinking about discussing yet another memory wipe.

--Emma's wedding dress isn't the only unfortunate outfit here. Putting Hook in velvet takes the tux to a cheap place and makes him look like a black hole. Also, Snow? Get rid of whatever you're wearing...quickly.

--Favorite song? Probably the opening number "Powerful Magic;" Hook's pirate rock song "Revenge Is Gonna Be Mine," and Emma's solo "Emma's Theme"

--Least favorite song? "The Charmings vs The Evil Queen" because it's just a rehash of two previous songs. Something new there would have worked better.

--"And my! Do I sound...good!"

--Oh, hey. The Black Fairy cast the Dark Curse and apparently Emma now has to do what it once took her a year to do in two hours. Cool.

--Speaking of, does anyone really understand the motivations of the Black Fairy? Why is she even doing any of this? Simply because she's dark and Emma's light?

--"I'm sorry, dearie. Do you think the Dark One sings? I'd rather scratch my eyes out with a rusty fork."

--A big ol' whatever to the nonsense that is Hook and Rumple reigniting their feud.

--So was Belle not even invited to the wedding? Even after she went through the trouble of finding Snow's wedding dress for Emma? You know for a season that focuses heavily on her son being controlled by the most evil being in all of existence, she's had shockingly little to do or say.

--Two to go! See you all next week for the season six finale!

In Which I Review Doctor Who (10x4)

So, to review, in the first three episodes this season, the Doctor and Bill have had a modern day introductory and opener, a futuristic space romp, and a journey into the past. In other words, all the classic formats Doctor Who is well versed in when a new companion enters the scene. It sounds like it's time for the Doctor and his companion to head home and touch base with the here and now and that's exactly what this week's episode "Knock Knock" does. This is another good, solid and canon compliant episode that is filtered through still another classic lens: the haunted house trope. This isn't the first episode, even in modern Who, that tackles ghosts, ghouls and a house that creaks an inordinate amount. Doctor Who likes to flirt with horror as much as is it does science-fiction and fantasy; like the Doctor and his blue box, it doesn't need to stay in one place for very long to make an impact. It's a fun and spooky ride this week so let's stare hard at those wooden fixtures and go! 

Like the episode "Smile," this week's story does not need to be overthought. All the hallmarks of any good spooky haunted house caper are here: a giant empty home, a creepy undertaker who's probably at fault when it comes to whatever the attractive, unsuspecting, and young adults find within the walls of said house that, on the surface, just seems to good to be true. Honestly, all that's missing is a talking brown dog and someone yelling "zoinks!" There isn't anything revolutionary here and certainly this type of episode has been done before, like season seven's "Hide." "Knock Knock" does have a bit of twist with the denouement of how the landlord and the wooden figure, Eliza, are related to each other. One would suspect the landlord to be a father trying to preserve his young daughter, not only because it's what the landlord actually tells the audience but also because it's an easy TV trick to gain sympathy for someone made out to be a villain. The fact that the family ties are opposite--a mother and her son--is a nice neat turnabout that, likely, most of the audience wouldn't have seen coming. If there's one major complaint--and to be fair, it's not a major major complaint--it's that this episode separates Bill and the Doctor for too long of a period. This prolonged separation does show how the burgeoning chemistry and combined quick wit of the two are an integral part to making a solid episode into something more but Bill on her own--or the Doctor with someone else--is nothing to scoff at because both characters are pretty well defined as is. If there is one nice through line, it's in the comparison of the Doctor and Eliza, the wooden mother who is living off the matter and energy of the tenets her son brings to the house (yes, there's a bit of a heavy-handed metaphor here that the Doctor is "living off" the young companions that the TARDIS or fate bring him). But tellingly, it's the Doctor's plea to the wooden woman that there's no point in surviving if you're going to lock yourself away that directly proceeds the Doctor telling the figure behind the Vault that he's a prisoner of this planet. There's no point for the Doctor to survive forever if he's locked away in an Earth-based university. For whatever reason, the Doctor has made a really out of character oath to stay put on Earth and not use the TARDIS--an oath he's since broken with Bill. Much like Eliza, the Doctor is living half a life, not a full one. But where Eliza chooses to move on, to end the horror she and her son have inflicted on poor students, the Doctor is grasping the TARDIS consoles with both hands, going back out there to the vast and wonderful tomorrows and yesterdays like he was always meant to.

Miscellaneous Notes on Knock Knock 

--The figure behind Chekhov's Vault seems delighted that several university students got eaten by space lice. Definitely the Master, then! But which one--Simm or Gomez?

--I think I shall say this every week until we get an answer but what exactly is the point of Nardole? Especially when the Doctor and the Vault seem to be enough to keep the figure locked in the Vault?

--This episode makes clear that Bill did not know what a Time Lord is or that they regenerate. She does learn about the former but the latter remains elusive. Since Peter Capaldi is leaving, I guess Bill is going to get the "surprise!" regeneration.

--Speaking of, Peter Capaldi is such a delight especially with his awkward and quiet humor, like crunching a chip at an inopportune moment.

--Yes, Bill. The Time Lords did wear funny robes and big hats.

--"I'm scared." "Don't be." "Why not?" "It doesn't help."

--The bugs were creepy as hell; like bedbugs on steroids.

In Which I Review American Gods (1x1)

Do you have a book that you can't escape? I mean that in a good way; I mean a novel that stays with you, one that you find yourself thinking about at odd moments, no matter how long it has been since you read it? There are several books like that for me but unquestionably and without stretching out this preamble, one of them is Neil Gaiman's American Gods. I picked up a copy of the book several years ago, being a fan of Gaiman's work in general and thinking the book would serve as a palate cleanser since, being in grad school at the time, I needed breaks from the academic books I was pouring over. I read the entire novel in less than a week and only glanced occasionally at my thesis. It was that good. The novel, and now the TV series, explores gods, myth individuality and cultural belonging and the relationship between all of those and America, a land where old and new gods rise and fall, rise and fall. The opening episode, "The Bone Orchard," invites the viewer in, to take them on a wonderfully weird journey. It's well worth our time to follow Mr. Shadow Moon and his new friend Mr. Wednesday. Let's go! 

What is a god? When I was graduate school, we had to try and tackle this question one day. You'd be amazed at the amount of tongue tying that happened as people attempted to define something that is largely undefinable. Is it a person? An object? A concept? For example, if I were to try and define god by saying "a god is a person..." then does that take away something of the majesty and grandeur that goes alongside the word god? Or if I were to define god by saying "a god is an object that is worshiped by a person or persons" then how does that fit into a religious idea that gods help, hinder, and, at the very least, interact with the other non-god people? Can an object actually have agency in your life? Okay, you might be thinking, then god is a concept representing a higher plane of existence completely outside the realm of human understanding and, to quote one of my favorite discussions on godhood from the TV show "House," penguins might as well contemplate quantum physics." But, I retort, if god is so outside of human understanding, how can we worship something that doesn't at least resemble the human condition and experience? And is god on the same level as other intangible concepts like love, justice, truth? And what about all those tales--both of a Christian and non-Christian tradition--that have a god or gods entering the human realm and interacting with mortals in very human ways. God as a concept is easy to accept because it's easier than trying to parse it out, but when we do try to parse it out, we fall woefully short; and, of course, we haven't even begun to tackle the super heady question of is/are god/gods even real or are they merely a metaphor for or simply a natural byproduct that happens when humans need someone to blame, believe in, argue about, or be the answer to the questions we have about the world and universe. American Gods wants to tackle these questions though it's less so the question of being real and more the question of what being real means to a god and how they define their realness and, very importantly, how they fight to stay real. In the western world, our definition of god usually includes an idea about immortality and being forever but for the gods that populate this America--the very real, walking, talking, smoking, cursing, fucking, obscene, profane and sacred gods--mortality is an all too real thing, breathing down their necks with every forgotten prayer and sacrifice. I do not want to get too ahead of myself or the show since I know I may have readers who have not read Gaiman's novel (what are you waiting for??) so let's actually move past this attempt to understand the metaphysical and dive into what the pilot episode is presenting.

“Nobody's American," said Wednesday. "Not originally. That's my point.” The idea that America is--and always has been--a country of immigrants is central to the main conceit of American Gods. There is a very popular metaphor that America is a melting pot but this has always rung false to me. America is not a homogeneous mixture but more of a fruit salad. Put all the ingredients together and you get a fruit salad but you can clearly pick out the lettuce from the apples from the orange slices. We like to think that America is blended to the point that each individual portion is unrecognizable from others, but we have always divided Americans by a variety of facets: race, gender, sexual orientation, ancestry, and, most importantly, in the case of American Gods, religion. In this country, even if you aren't looking very hard, you can find Christians, Jews, and Muslims (these first three having various subsets found within), atheists, agnostics, Buddhists, Hindi, ect. If you move back into the far past, you'll find the religions of Native Americans and various original settlers, even if those were just passing through. Every time one of these immigrants came to the shores of America, they brought with them more than just the clothes on their back. They brought their gods. The pilot episode doesn't want to give away much about this idea except in noting that when the Viking settlers came back to the shores of America one hundred years after the first visit "they found their god waiting for them." The episode, instead, prefers (wisely) to stay with our protagonist Shadow Moon, and so I too shall follow in the show's footsteps but the pilot is not totally without overt godly imagery. A tall Irish bloke named Sweeney claims to be a leprechaun (that midget idea is just a vicious rumor!) and somewhere out in Hollywood a beautiful woman named Bilquis swallows a man with her vagina which is pretty inhuman. However, let's focus on Shadow since we have acknowledged that the gods are waiting, biding their time out on the edges of our story. Shadow Moon is a hardluck hero if ever there was one. He's spent the past three years in jail; his wife dies while screwing his best friend and it turns out that he has neither money nor job to go home to. Shadow's meeting with the strange (and delightfully cheeky) Mr. Wednesday on an airplane is about as unromantic a call to adventure as they come, but that's what it is. The hero's journey begins the same: a divine force, or an agent of the divine, invites the would-be hero to come enter their world, which by default is not the same as the one the hero is currently suffering through. In this case, Mr. Wednesday needs an errand boy, someone to use violence when called for and (oddly) someone to sit vigil for him, should he perish in his whatever-they-are-endeavors. It's not exactly Princess Leia's plea for help in droid form. Shadow himself isn't a typical hero; he's an ex-con! He's clearly done bad things in his life; he's not a wide-eyed noob and he does not find this new world of blood, guts, weird dreams, and technology boys who smoke synthetic frog skins amazing. If anything, Shadow's introduction to the world is really alarming and like any sane human being, he wants to run from it. He finds Mr. Wednesday neither charming nor endearing; he sees Wednesday for what the old man is (sort of): a too-talkative grifter. Shadow's a good salt-of-the-earth kind of guy which really makes you root for him automatically, complicated flawed past and all. Shadow only becomes Wednesday's errand boy because he lost a bet. He's a reluctant hero and that's smart, both on Gaiman's part and on the show's part. No one wants to enter this world, especially when the world comes with this level of bloodshed. Even if you don't know about the gods, there's clearly something off about a man who is a self proclaimed cheat, thief, and trickster needing your help and making you swear (over mead of all things) to sit his vigil if he dies. I'd run far away too. Shadow, in other words, becomes a really good surrogate for the audience who are all probably just as confused as he is here in the opening act of our story. Hang on, Shadow. It only gets weirder.

Miscellaneous Notes on The Bone Orchard 

--I don't think I've been this excited to review a show in forever. I hope to have these reviews up after every episode, but it may be every other week (sort of a la Westworld).

--The opening credits were perfect; a harmony of new and old bringing together classic religious iconography (the Buddha, the crucifixion) with the new (neon, machines, drugs).

--The Bilquis sex scene was spot on.

--Ian McShane is doing god's own work as Mr. Wednesday and Ricky Whittle isn't far behind.

--"Even a salad would do."

--Mr. Wednesday is right...Shadow Moon is "one outlandishly improbable name!"

--There's a lot of social commentary woven into this episode. It's not subtle but the show doesn't need to make their visual cues into text by having characters comment on it, which is welcome since other TV shows are using some of the same motifs but going out of their way to talk about said motifs. For example, the episode is book-ended by two heavily violent scenes against some sort of "Other." To open we have Viking immigrants who come to the new world, hungry and miserable, and met with hostility and violence. To close we have a black man strung up a tree, lynching style, by "men" who appear to be Caucasian.

--I am thrilled that this opening episode included one of my all time favorite quotes from the novel: "We have reprogrammed reality. Religion is the operating system and prayers are just so much fucking spam."

--"You're just the first person I've talked to who wasn't an asshole." "Give me time."

--Know Your Gods: I'd like to try something in these reviews since my background is in comparative religion. Every review, I'm going to pick a god who was featured in the episode and highlight some of their stories. I am not an expert in all world's religions but I have enough in me (I hope) to talk a bit about each of the characters. This week is Bilquis in what was easily the most memorable scene of the pilot. Bilquis is probably known to you by a different name: The Queen of Sheba. She's found in Jewish, Christian, Islamic, Ethiopian and Coptic traditions and has become one of the more well known female figures, known for her wisdom, her faith, and her riches. Her stories differ but the one that usually stands out is of her one night of passion with King Solomon. The story goes a little something like this: King Solomon needed materials to build his grand Temple in Jerusalem and upon hearing reports about all the fabulous things in the capital city, Sheba went to see them (and Solomon) for herself. The two apparently got on like a house on fire and (because this is how these things normally go) she converted to his religion before spending a magical night together though it's all done through clever trickery. She is given a ring as a token and, naturally, gives birth to a son on the way back to her own kingdom. Some myths have her as also being half-jinn which might explain the almost demonic, all consuming (pun!) need that comes over her worshipers when offered a chance to pay her homage. Because her most well known story involves sexual love, she becomes associated with other love goddess, someone who is worshiped as a sexual deity which obviously Neil Gaiman and Starz delightfully took up.

In Which I Review Once Upon a Time (6x19)

Rumplestiltskin says it best tonight when he points out that the fate of his family rests on a dark wheel of parents and children constantly torn apart and separated from each other. Malcolm sent young Rumple back to the Enchanted Forest alone; Rumple let go of Baelfire's hand; Henry grew up without Neal and Gideon spent the first 28 years of his life with a really demented and terrifying grandmother. In other words, Rumple certainly isn't wrong in this. One of the strongest, and to be fair one of the most overused, storylines on OUAT is the constant internal angst between parents and their children usually going alongside abandonment issues. Neal had them, Emma has them, Rumple, Henry, Hook, Charming, and even Regina have issues with mommy or daddy dearest. When it comes to this week's episode, "The Black Fairy," it shouldn't surprise to anyone that it too comes down to parents, children, the struggle to maintain power and abandonment. It's a song OUAT knows well, and giving credit where credit is due, it's a song they know to sing (no, this is not a clever tongue in cheek joke about what's happening next week.) Grab your fairy wand and let's go!

Will The Real Savior Please Stand Up (Please Stand Up? Please Stand Up?) 

I have pros and I have cons. Let's start with the pros, shall we? The main thrust of this episode is explaining why Fiona, aka Future Black Fairy, gave up her only child, Rumplestiltskin. It comes down to a messy prophecy about how Rumple was destined to become a Savior (yes, this is a big what the f....moment) but accompanying that is that fate of Rumple, the Savior, is to face off against a truly evil force with a crescent shaped birthmark and die defeating them. Because Fiona loves her son--putting it rather perfectly that this tiny babe can make you soft and sharp all at once--she tries like mad to prevent her son's ultimate fate by finding the child with the mark upon its skin. I'm surprised the show didn't go for broke and make the mark a 666 on the forehead, but I digress. All of this is of apiece with other parent/children relationships on the show in which parents are willing to sacrifice anything to make sure their children grow up loved and protected. Everything, as it usually tuns out, except their power which has long been used as a drug metaphor on OUAT. It doesn't take a genius to figure out where this iteration of the story ends up going. It's almost Greek in its conclusion: by trying to prevent the prophecy from coming to pass, Fiona turns herself into the Black Fairy, complete with a crescent shaped scar, and consequently into the great evil Rumple was supposed to face down. Unable to live with this idea, Fiona uses the Sheers of Destiny on Rumple and cuts his Saviorhood from the young baby rather than giving up her power, claiming she needs it to protect Rumple. The sudden appearance of the scar on Fiona's arm is a nice literal representation of the often quoted tagline from the show that "evil isn't born, it's made." Fiona made herself the Black Fairy by going to extremes to prevent a prophecy that never would have come to pass if she hadn't tried so hard to get around it. Like I said: it's all rather Greek. If this push and pull of parenthood vs power sounds familiar, that's because it is supposed to feel familiar. It's a very clear and neat parallel with Rumple and Baelfire or Cora and Regina or Rumple and Gideon. Power corrupts on OUAT; the more you have the more it corrupts until the character is addicted to it and can't see the forest for the trees. This circular storytelling isn't a bad thing largely because Robert Carlyle and Jamie Murray act their socks off to sell what really is a six year old story. It also reminds the audience that Rumple's strongest stories have always been as a desperate father; he's not truly evil and while he has qualities of a trickster trope, it's not his ultimate arc. He's become addicted to the darkness but everything he did was for his son, to prevent Baelfire (and Gideon) from having to suffer a worse fate than growing up with a Dark One father--death. It's villainy and it's heroism all wrapped up in a confused, angry, abandoned package (complete with a yellow knit blanket). It add another dimension to Rumple's angst that instead of just having a mother who abandoned him, he has a mother who changed his life, cut him off from "good" and because of that, Rumple's made choices to walk in the darkness.

However. While all the intent is good, the execution is sloppy, sloppy, sloppy. I continue to think that the writers aren't talking to each other or reading each other's scripts before sending them off to the cast and crew to shoot because there is a pretty big disconnect between what was telegraphed to the audience a few weeks ago and what we're seeing this week. Let's start with the timeline (an evil and vile word if ever there was one). We've been told by characters on the show, both with their words and with their reactions to any mention of the Black Fairy, that she's the most dangerous and most evil creature we've ever encountered. It seemed pretty apparent by Blue's reactions that Black was on the same level as she; that they, if this is even possible, grew up fairies together, that if Blue is the original (good) power then Black is the original (evil) power. And yet, based on the timeline we saw tonight, Fiona is only about two hundred years old, younger than Hades and the Dark Ones, including the first Dark One, Nimue, and only became a fairy about a week after Rumple was born by waving a wand around and saying some gibberish. Not only that but while the show has made it clear that power can corrupt, Fiona got awfully powerful awfully fast. Based on what Rumple looked like when Blue brought the baby back to Malcolm, Fiona had only been out looking for a crescent marred babe for about a month or two. And yet, Tiger Lily is unable to stop Fiona from going crazy or creating the Dark Curse? Also, we're supposed to believe that Fiona and Rumple are parallels in more than one way, namely that everything Fiona has done was for Rumple and she never stopped loving him; she even shouts that back to baby Rumple in the final flashback moment before she's sucked off into a glowing portal of doom. And yet this whole season, in the present day, she has come across as having no affections whatsoever for her son, being immune to any love she may have once felt. But once Fiona learns that Rumple has discovered the truth of his life, suddenly she want to join forces? This is to say nothing of the fact that we're only given a very brief glimpse of Fiona's own internal angst and we're not allowed to sit with her, inside her head on her terms, for longer than half an episode. I believe I've used this word a lot this season but it's all rather haphazard. It's sloppily put together and the writers are depending on the audience remembering the dilemmas faced by Rumple, Cora, Regina, ect who had similar stories that were done in a more developed way. But, just to end this on a positive note, I think this does bring us one step closer to Rumple's true moment of heroism (not redemption, just heroism) in which he chooses to die, even though it's no longer his destiny as a Savior. He said, at the very end, that everything he does is for Belle and Gideon and just like how he died fighting Pan for his family, he'll die fighting Mommy Dearest for them too.

Miscellaneous Notes on The Black Fairy

--"That’s the problem with Saviors, isn’t it Ms Swan? Not quite as helpful as advertised."

--Emma talking to Rumple about the pain of abandonment was well done. It brought to mind some moments from Manhattan when Neal tried to say the same thing.

--To wit: "No curse, no monster, is ever going to be as terrifying as finding out why you were abandoned."

--Storybrooke has an Ikea?

--Every time the writers say “many years ago” it basically means “we don’t know nor do we care”

--Tiger Lily's dress might be the ugliest of all the fairies.

--How is “Rumplestiltskin” a perfect name for this situation, Malcolm?

--“It’s a vile, dangerous world, son.” “Because of villains like you. And me.”