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Neon Genesis Evangelion, Episode 10 - "Magma Diver"

July 15, 2015, 7:00 am
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This series is an episode guide to the Japanese anime television show Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995 - 96) and the spin-off films. Each entry includes my own reflection on the episode, followed by a conversation with fellow bloggers Bob Clark and Murderous Ink.

As every Hollywood romantic comedy has taught us, the ideal couple must bicker and clash before they come together. Although Asuka's and Shinji's entaglement won't necessarily follow such a clear-cut outline, they are at least true to this principle. And as is often the case in such tempestuous trysts, the female initially overwhelms and overshadows the cowed male. As "Magma Diver" begins, Asuka is still the new star of the show (three episodes into her arc, it's clear Anno is still far more excited by her presence than that of Shinji, Misato, or especially Rei). We see her shopping with her bemused and much older crush Kaji, who teases her about her obsession with revealing bathing suits (she's preparing for a school trip to a hot springs resort). Kaji isn't the only one teasing - the episode drops numerous hints that Asuka will soon be diving and swimming in something far less refreshing than spring water; and sure enough before long her trip has been cancelled and she has volunteered to extract an Angel egg from deep beneath the earth's surface. Is it really a spoiler to say things don't go well?

The first sign of trouble, as far as the teenage pilot is concerned, comes when her magma-proof suit is revealed: at the press of the button it balloons into a rolly-poly protective shell which may keep her safe but also makes her look like the Stay-Puft marshmallow man (or perhaps the bratty Violet Beauregard blown up into a giant blueberry). Humiliated by her appearance, she nonetheless demands to be given the duty - when Rei responds, Asuka slaps her hand away. If losing her figure is bad, losing the glory of a dangerous mission is far worse (Shinji, by contrast, glumly accepts but doesn't relish the - wrong - expectation that he would be tapped to capture the Angel). When Asuka drops, she boasts of her skills and fearlessness over the intercom, and only briefly worries about the consequences of failure (under Ikari's orders, the Angel, Asuka, and NERV would all be instantly destroyed to avoid a second apocalypse).

Initially Asuka succeeds, barely surviving the pressure, arriving at her destination (that would be floating in an endless field of underground lava) and entrapping the fetal Angel in its massive chrysalis. However, no NERV mission has yet been easy and this one will be no exception. Within moments, the Angel has birthed itself, attacked Asuka and withstood numerous counterattacks. For the first time in three episodes she's truly in need of rescue. Well, sort of - Shinji must drop a knife down to her Eva for use, but it's still up to her to use it. And so she does, stabbing the Angel relentlessly and then improvising when that's not enough. She destroys the Angel just in time, but as it distintegrates, it severs her tether to the overworld and, stunned, she begins to drop to her inevitable demise - until a giant hand grips her tightly and she looks up to see Eva-01. She smiles up warmly, the sarcasm washed out of her system, and this is the first moment of true, conscious tenderness between her and Shinji - even if mediated by the giant mechanical suits they wear.

If this begins as Asuka's episode, it climaxes (no pun intended) by focusing on Shinji who is aroused for the first time while eavesdropping on Misato and Asuka skinny-dipping near him in the resort they've finally arrived in, just over the partition. He blushes and dives underwater, humiliated by the unexpected experience (as is pet penguin Pen-Pen, whose comic presence frequently enlivens "Magma Diver" and also inspires a number of creative non sequitur shots). Again we have the fascinating contrast between the timid boy coming of age and the massive super-robot he pilots. Emcased in Eva-01, Shinji saves the world and the girl he's increasingly becoming attracted to. Stripped of that outfit (indeed, of any outfit) he can't even control his own body. Following this scene, the episode ends as Asuka notices Misato's scar, and the older woman casually acknowledges that its origin in the Second Impact, also alluding to Asuka's apparently dark backtory. There's a lot Shinji doesn't yet know about the women in his life - not only their outer sexuality but the inner suffering remains remote at this point.

The last episode forced Shinji and Asuka to collaborate and hinted at their mutual attraction for the first time. "Magma Diver" - while mostly avoiding either confrontations or connections - subtly deepens both aspects of their relationship. Professionally, Shinji openly saves Asuka (and for the first time she expresses something other than resentment, irritation, or jealousy toward him). Personally, his physical attraction manifests itself, but on a less bawdy level - his concern and care for her also emerge in his wordless rescue (there is no hint that he is diving down to rescue her, or even considering such a move; he's just suddenly there). In the end, it isn't just Asuka who is the magma diver of the title, it's Shinji. And so we begin to subtly shift back to his central perspective. Not that Asuka is going anywhere...


Conversation with Bob Clark and Murderous Ink

me: I'd make a "let's dive in" corny pun to start off, but really it wouldn't be any less obvious than the hints Episode 10 drops early on about where Asuka is headed. This an episode with a lot of foreshadowing. I feel like there's probably more significance to her deep-earth diving than I realize right now.
Out of curiosity is there a subgenre of action animes dealing with underground missions, or lava or anything? I get the weird sense that this episode is tying into some larger phenomenon. "Magma Diver" is such a specific title too, especially after some of the previous ones involving philosophical phrases and such.

Bob: Well, there's definitely a theme in anime of "the spa episode", which we get a teasing glimpse of here. Lots of shows have them, featuring the female characters luxuriating naked for the viewer and getting into over-the-top antics. We only get a bit of it here. A more prominent example would be something like "Tenchi Muyo."
As for "lava episode"-- I can't think of any really. There's a part of me that sees a lot of this as an inversion of some of the Bond instincts in the series-- instead of being a glory-girl sexy figure for the duration, Asuka is turned into Violet from Willy Wonka. Part of my thought here is mainly from the title-- "Magma Diver" sounds like a possible title from the cheesy hey-day of the sixties. And for how it's marketed to anime fans-- there are whole lines of figurine sets of the girls in their swimsuits loudly emblazoned with "MAGMA DIVER"-- makes it seem like it ought to be its own franchise, like "MOONRAKER" or something.

Murderous Ink: As far as I know, Anno borrowed its title from Sundiver by David Brin, though he admitted he had never read it. Since Japan is located on the 'Ring of Fire', volcanic activities, including earthquakes, are frequent and often drastic. These geographical characteristics must have been a basis for numerous myth, legends, and folklores involving volcanoes and inspired many contemporary artists to create their works on that theme. You may recall, for example, Kurosawa's The Bad Sleeps Well brings its most dramatic moment on the top of the volcano. Also, underground magma activities are always considered a mysterious source of nature. Even though I am not aware of any 'subgenre of action animes dealing with underground missions', many mysterious entities (from Godzilla to evil empire) have their origins in deep underground.

me: re: spa episode, I thought it was kind of amusing how the fanservice here mostly involves an inversion of the voyeuristic concept. It's really Shinji who is more exposed here (and even when the girls are sitting poolside, it is to expose physical and psychological scars).

Murderous Ink: What I find quite fascinating (not necessarily in critical way) is that no female characters in this story reacts to the 'fetus' of the Shito being developed in lava/womb just like other vertebrates. I don't think Anno was/is particularly sensitive to gender politics of post-political correctness world, and this series was well before such discussion was brought into literal and art criticism. So, its gender concepts or gender fantasies can be sometimes offensive or even ridiculous to our eyes (like embarrassingly outdated hot-spa antics you mentioned). Here, Misato, for example, has no remorse whatsoever to terminate the life of the fetus. If we consider her hatred toward Shito, maybe it is understandable, but no other character shows any emotion whatsoever, either. I am not saying they should, but I guess it must have never occurred to Anno that the role of maternity instincts might have brought an extra dimension to the story ... just a tiny fraction of Mia Fallow in Rosemary's Baby. I am quite certain that many women -scientists or not- would react or show intense interest in how the fetus is formed. Maybe I am wrong.

Bob: We get another inversion here with Asuka's crush on Kaji-- she keeps throwing all this attention to him, and he keeps treating her like a child, ignoring her. I thought it was interesting that here we see more of his spy-side for a little bit, while Asuka expects him to watch her "debut" battle. Using the light subplot of her teenage crush to mask his more serious subterfuge, the way he has to put on a false face to her, and everyone.

me: And it also paves the way for Shinji to swoop in unexpectedly and play the swashbuckling hero for the first time, rescuing the damsel in distress (albeit after giving her a shining moment of bravery & ingenuity). Most surprisingly (well maybe not considering how close she is to fiery death) she seems pleased. It's definitely the tenderest moment between them so far even if they have gigantic mechanical suits between them.

Bob: To an extent it's a continuation of something we had in the previous episodes-- in all of her sorties, she's been dependent upon Shinji in some way. In fact, that's kinda one of her major themes-- her coming to terms with how much she needs him (and other people in general) in order to get by.

me: But this is the first time we've seen such an overt rescue. Before they were working together.
Throughout the episode, mostly the focus is on her. And then he swoops in out of nowhere. And then of course we get that last scene with him. It feels like in this episode we're shifting our focus a little bit back to Shinji by the end, after 2-3 episodes in which Asuka was really the star.

Bob: Mhm. We get it bit by bit-- seeing Asuka react violently to not being allowed on the trip to Okinawa, while Shinji's blase, and seeing Shinji expect to be chosen for the mission, only for it to be Asuka. We can read into that either relief, or jealousy, or whatever.
The character building is there in bits and pieces. We learn Asuka's improbably some kind of a child genius, although it never really factors in the story, just another way for her to lord it over Shinji. And as much as she's infatuated with Kaji, she seems equally obsessed with getting Shinji's attention throughout (all her diving entries). This is a lighter episode. The lightest so far, even moreso than the dance one. It shows how much the show is playing with its format and trying out the episodic route after being so serial for 6 episodes before.

me: So you don't see this quite as much of a 6-episode arc as the previous one? Or just an arc of a different sort (episodic, as you say, rather than serial but still interconnected)?

Bob: It's less of an arc so far, and more of a variation on themes. Next episode will be a bit of a climax point with the three kids being forced to work together, and that will become one of the new themes that they'll work with.

me: Yeah, Rei is practically non-existent at this point.
Your description of the show as "light" makes an interesting point. They constantly harp on how high the stakes are on this mission - triggering a Second Impact, destroying all of NERV if there's a mess-up - but it does kind of seem like hype for what is relatively speaking (certainly compared to the first few missions and also the ones to come) a breather.
A few points to make before we finish: 1) This raises the question, on a show in which every single episode/battle could result in the end of the world - how do you preserve a sense of high stakes? I think especially as the series proceeds, it derives from the individual characters more than the global stakes. 2) I would have said previously that the Jet Alone episode was the most trivial or light, but actually that has some major reveals about NERV's mission whereas here - other than that glimpse of Kaji chatting up a stranger - we aren't really breaking new plot or character ground (except for the Shinji rescue thing, which is subtle). 3) This is probably the most provocative we've seen NERV be - here they are literally going into the Angels' territory rather than waiting for them to attack, and it isn't even framed as pre-emptive measure, but rather some kind of scientific exploration. It's the most blatantly aggressive we've seen NERV be yet.

Bob: Yeah. And their provocative move here has a slight cause-and-effect in the next episode, as SEELE becomes more of a threat, though somewhat unspoken. NERV's offensive posture here makes them more of a power that needs to be clamped down on.

me: This is a memorable episode in many ways, but perhaps not a particularly important one.

Bob: Like the last one, it does a nice job of making it look like any other anime, which is cool, for how it can just spin off of a theme and not have to always be about the master plot.

me: Do you think that serves a larger purpose as well? In terms of where the series is headed, if Anno even knew completely at that point?

Bob: I think this serves its place pretty much like the last one did. Next one will be a bit more progressive, though.


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Lost in the Movies turns 7

July 16, 2015, 11:41 pm
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I don't usually blog on Thursdays (except for last week's delayed True Detective episode) but today is the seventh anniversary of Lost in the Movies, so what the hell. Plus I've long been looking for an excuse to post this cool picture from Celine and Julie Go Boating.

I don't have too much to say, just thanks for reading, viewing, commenting (or lurking), and especially for sharing my work with others over the past, um, 7/10 of a decade. If you're new to the site, or you've only read posts past a certain point, I encourage you to explore my archives through the following options (all fully updated as of today):


(click on an image to visit the post where it was featured)


(in order of film/TV release date)

(exploring films released 10-100 years ago on a given date)


(recently reformatted)


If you're still hungering for more commemorative content, and don't mind extremely excessive meta-musings, check out my 5th anniversary retrospective of the blog's history.

And perhaps most importantly, because this is about the future as well as the past, I encourage you to view my most recent work, Across the Threshold with Maya Deren, a short video essay juxtaposing images from Deren's wild avant-garde dreamscapes with the clever words of Arthur Eddington, a physicist who memorably framed the quantum reality of taking a single step.

I will be officially posting the video here on Monday along with some further commentary on the ideas that motivated it but for now, if you like it, share the Vimeo link.

The blogosphere has changed quite a lot in seven years (to the point where, with all the social media outlets and multiple fronts, I'm not sure it even makes sense to call it the "blogosphere" anymore). But we're still here, with much more to come.
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Across the Threshold with Maya Deren (video)

July 20, 2015, 7:00 am
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featuring video, description, further thoughts and quotes from Maya Deren & Martha Nochimson

Original Vimeo introduction

My latest video essay pairs images from Maya Deren's experimental short films with physicist Arthur Eddington's quantum description of taking a single step through a door. Deren's avant-garde cinematic worlds operate with a freewheeling approach to physical reality. Characters float and fall through space in defiance of gravity, leaping across different planes in defiance of logic...or so it seems. By combining Deren's dreamlike visuals with Eddington's words we are reminded that perhaps the "real world" is less stable and certain than we like to think...maybe the boundless artist and the man of science have a great deal in common after all.

The concept behind this video was inspired by the work of Martha Nochimson in the book David Lynch Swerves, which uses quantum physics as a prism through which to view David Lynch's later films.

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The video, along with further context (including passages from the book), follows the jump.


Here are some excerpts (emphasis is mine) from David Lynch Swerves, out of context of course. Obviously Nochimson is referring to, in large degree, David Lynch's narrative action and structure and, to a (possibly) lesser degree Lynch's own visual atmosphere (which is not particularly close to Deren), stylistic rhythm (which is closer to Deren) and patterns of association (which are very close to Deren - especially in At Land and, most obviously, Meshes of the Afternoon). Nevertheless, I think these statements can apply to Deren's films too...even if my purpose is as much textural as conceptual.

Please note, the emphases below are mine.

"As with Eddington's threshold above, the Lynchian threshold is a passage between two perceptions of the same space, and a wake-up call for a fuller apprehension of our mind/body realities. ..."
"The Lynchian threshold, which appears when a troubled consciousness is forced beyond the perceived limits of reality, has the strangeness of dreams. But the experience is the essence of the Lynchian real, even if, like Arthur Eddington's subatomic image of entering a room, it has a distinctly fantastic aura. Eddington removes the blinders from our vision to reveal the alternate identity of a material world usually imagined only as a solid, stable place. Lynch does the same in his films. Thus, we can find a key to reading Lynch in the room Eddington imagines entering, even though it seems almost cartoonlike in its strangeness. Eddington is summoning up a scientific scenario, not a reverie. The familiarly solid shapes of floorboards are replaced here by the frightening (yet quasi-comical) indeterminacy of the behavior of the particles that make up the floor that Eddington would find if he looked at them in a laboratory. Clearly life is more surprising in the light of modern paradigms than it is when we wear the glasses of classical Newtonian physics, but it is no less real.
But Lynch and Eddington have different motives for surprising us. Eddington is attempting to provide a simple visible parable for complex theories developed by physicists. Lynch has much larger purposes in mind. ..."
"We must begin by talking about the shattering moments when Lynch opens up thresholds among the multiple levels of the material world for his protagonists. These moments take place when problems arise from which society does not provide an answer - when characters are struggling with impossible dilemmas or to create something new. ..."
"When they are driven outside those illusory limits, Lynch's protagonists are not only surprised by the behavior of things and bodies around them, they also experience a kind of isolation because they are propelled by events into radical conflict with the flawed and often punishing world of 'normal' transactions. ..."
 "...he himself contradicts the laws of classical physics by both being in two places at once and, at the same time, not being present at all. ..."
"Anyone who has contended with a self in turmoil, engaged in troubling conflicts with our surrounding society, or pushed the boundaries of his/her knowledge will, at least in theory, find that physicists' description of matter on a particle level evokes the experience of learning, discovering, and growing. Any profound revelation breaks up habit, and not in a lighthearted way; it can be a trauma akin to losing coordinates in space and time. Sometimes, and all teachers know this, the inability to deal with that kind of disorientation makes it impossible for some people ever to go beyond their limited comfort zones - that is, makes it impossible to learn, grow, and change. ..."
"entanglement ... multiple particles respond to stimuli as if they were one as well as many..."
"Superposition ... one particle ... in two places at exactly the same time - making it impossible to apply pronouns as we do in the ordinary course of things. The particle is both 'it' and 'they.' ..."
"...traumatic transitions and the interim space between two states of being are ... crucial part[s] of his narratives..."
"...a more important narrative goal is to move from 'here to here,' to see the moment of being in an expanded way. ..."
"...a full understanding of the 'here' would involve the scraping away of the surface of the now to arrive at the future, rather than a linear progression toward it."
Just yesterday I discovered "The Principle of Infinite Pains", an article by Maria Popova (h/t Nikki Walkerden) featuring quotations from the book Essential Deren: Collected Writings on Film. Several of these quotes resonated completely with the sense I was getting of Deren's work in light of Eddington's words and Nochimson's research (while also, perhaps, providing subtle counterpoints). So let's end with the filmmaker herself. Again, the emphasis is mine, based on passages relevant to the video:
"This principle — that the dynamic of movement in film is stronger than anything else — than any changes of matter… that movement, or energy is more important, or powerful, than space or matter — that, in fact, it creates matter — seemed to me to be marvelous, like an illumination, that I wanted to just stop and celebrate that wonder, just by itself…"

"And, looking back, it is clear that the direction was away from a concern with the way things feel and towards a concern with the way things are; away from personal psychology towards nerveless metaphysics. I mean metaphysics in the large sense… not as mysticism but beyond the physical in the way that a principle is an abstraction, beyond any particulars in which it is manifest."

"[Meshes of the Afternoon] externalizes an inner world to the point where it is confounded with the external world. At Land has little to do with the inner world of the protagonist; it externalizes the hidden dynamic of the external world, and here the drama results from the activity of the external world. It is as if I had moved from a concern with the life of a fish, to a concern with the sea which accounts for the character of the fish and its life. And Rituals pulls back even further, to a point of view from which the external world itself is but an element in the entire structure and scheme of metamorphosis: the sea itself changes because of the large changes of the earth."
And finally though I'm not sure it's so directly pertinent to my present inquiry, I just love this (and suspect that it does have something to do with the larger point after all): 
"Last May I had an emergency operation; it was touch and go for a few hours there, and I came out of it with a rapidity that dazzled: one month from the date of that operation (I had to be slit from side to side) I was dancing! Then I actually realized that I was overwhelmed with the most wondrous gratitude for the marvelous persistence of the life force. In the transported exaltation of this moment, I wanted to run out into the streets and shout to everyone that death was not true! that they must not listen to the doom singers and the bell ringers! that life was more true! I had always believed and felt this, but never had I known how right I was. And I asked myself, why, then, did I not celebrate it in my art. And then I had a sudden image: a dog lying somewhere very still, and a child, first looking at it, and then, compulsively, nudging it. Why? to see whether it was alive; because if it moves, if it can move, it lives. This most primitive, this most instinctive of all gestures: to make it move to make it live. So I had always been doing with my camera… nudging an ever-increasing area of the world, making it move, animating it, making it live… The love of life itself… seems to me larger than the loving attention to a life. But, of course, each contains the other, and, perhaps, I have not so much traveled off in a direction as moved in a slow spiral around some central essence, seeing it first from below, and now, finally, from above."

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True Detective season 2 episode 5 - "Other Lives"

July 21, 2015, 7:00 am
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This True Detective viewing diary is being written while the new series airs. As such, future readers need not worry: there are no spoilers for upcoming episodes.

This episode left me confused, but with a better sense of how this season is going to shake out for better and, sadly, for worse. A few minutes in, I had really perked up. As expected from last week's preview, the shootout represents a huge turning point in the story. Finally, I thought, we're moving! No more endless repetition of True Detective's two basic templates: a) the detectives question someone who reveals that (surprise) Caspere was a pervert, b) Semyon shakes down an old ally in passive-aggressive fashion. Sure enough, the case has officially been closed (with last week's dead pimp unsurprisingly pinned as the culprit), the characters variously resigned, traded, or demoted from their jobs, and Semyon even gets a nice role reversal when two creepy goons show up at his casino to threaten him (he manages to chase them away, but we're left with the distinct impression that they have the upper hand). With everything unsettled and uncertain, we've nowhere to go but up. Again, Pizzolatto is echoing the structure of last season, as he did in the previous episode. Unfortunately, if True Detective is beginning to move, it is also tripping over itself. There are quite a lot of stumbles in this episode, a few big ones due to the writing, and many small ones due to the direction.

Let's deal with the latter first. As with every episode except the second, a new director steps behind the camera. This time we get John Crowley, and he definitely shows an aptitude for keeping the pace brisk and stimulating visual interest. A scene of Velcoro tailing Semyon's minions in the dead night, from a remote mansion to a busy nightclub, couples distanced long shots with a pounding beat on the soundtrack, creating one of the season's first sustained sequences of truly alluring mystery. Indeed, intrigue and atmosphere are all over this episode, finally delivering what I hoped and expected after season one. Many viewers have criticized the choice of L.A., but the potential for exciting noir texture is more than abundant in this location. So far the show just hasn't known how to evoke it. Crowley leans heavily on Mulholland Drive nods from time to time (the short, ominous cowboy staring at Frank; the short-range headlamp illumination along wooded roads) and if last year's True Detective occasionally recalled the rural, small-town menace of Twin Peaks it makes sense that David Lynch's 2001 masterpiece should serve as a point of reference this time.

Unfortunately, the performances come closer to Betty's kitchen rehearsal with Rita than to her knockout audition scene. Crowley bungles almost every character in the series, some worse than others, with Woodrugh suffering the most. Kitsch is giving it his all but for reasons I can't quite pinpoint yet, his strained bluster feels funny rather than sad, and his mother's reactions are even more overwrought. Part of this is due to timing; when she shows concern and yells out the door to him at the end of their scene, it's such an abrupt (and apparently unmotivated) shift from her nasty menace mere seconds earlier than it registers only as a cliche, and one that doesn't even work on those terms. Elsewhere, with Bezzerides and her sister or the first scene with Semyon and his wife (although the second is good), performances are awkward, and the dialogue falls flat. Pizzolatto is the most directly responsible for these clunkers, but some directors have a way of elevating or at least compensating for the dialogue. Crowley actually draws more attention to their awkwardness, and both Vaughn and Kitsch in particular seem to be flailing helplessly whenever the camera focuses on them.

Meanwhile, Farrell makes some odd choices (his flustered reaction to the news that he killed the wrong rapist feels a bit off) and while he's generally solid, Crowley doesn't do him any favors by repeatedly cutting together two shots in which his expression is entirely different. Velcoro also gets saddled with the goofiest line delivery of the show so far, a portentous throwaway referring to Woodrugh as a "god warrior" (it would be hard to deliver that line convincingly, but Farrell seems visibly uncomfortable with it, so it lands even worse). This was the first time I actually had to rewind the show because I was laughing so hard I missed the subsequent dialogue. By this point, of course, we've come to expect what one podcast has dubbed "Pizzo-what?-os" but that's not when I'm talking about when I say the writing stumbles in "Other Lives." The biggest mistakes revolve around the use of state official Katherine Davis (Michael Hyatt), who has barely logged any screentime until now. Without warning she becomes a deus ex machina who swoops in to reignite the investigation, uniting the three detectives at the scene of last week's shootout.

Compare this to last season, when Hart and Cohle are nominally reunited by a later investigation (introduced in the first episode and sustained throughout) and still have to make their own decision to join forces once again. Season 2's variation on this is not only clumsy in concept but in execution as the three characters stand around and stare at Davis' handheld device. Her subsequent, laughably casual reveal to Velcoro doesn't land either ("Oh, they caught the rapist - I thought your ex-wife told you?" more or less). You'd never knew Pizzolatto wrote these episodes ahead of time. They feel like they are being tossed off by a team of writers under the gun week-to-week, trying to figure out how to squeeze in the necessary information before racing ahead to the next challenge. For a show that is supposedly designed in open defiance of the writer's room, Pizzolatto endlessly falls back on its cliches.

There is no sense of a grander design, of a smooth, calculated flow to the material either on an episodic basis or as components in a serialized narrative. I already mentioned that Crowley (and Pizzolatto's storytelling, finally) keep up a brisk pace, which is good, but the flip-side is that scenes follow one another in seemingly random fashion (aside from the effective cross-cutting between the four characters' dismal downfalls early in the episode). The car is moving, but we aren't sure anyone is actually driving. In avoiding the dead space, Pizzolatto and Crowley also don't allow the necessary moments to breathe. As with Davis' rape story, Bezzerides' sister scene evokes no sense of actually being lived-in (basically "You got into CalArts?""Oh great, awesome!" as the awkwardly kick the sand). This could be played as a failed attempt of two characters to connect but instead, due to staging, shot selection and the brevity of the exchange, it plays as the failure of two actors and especially their director.

Pity that this has turned into such a negative review. More than halfway through the episode, I was mostly having a good time and expected to introduce this piece by declaring this my favorite episode so far. Certainly it avoids the pitfalls of the previous four chapters, and next week's preview looks even more promising. And as I hoped last time, we get long stretches with the characters, watching them struggle with their own disastrous lives. Woodrugh's mother has stolen all his money from the war, while mocking his sexuality, as, um "weird" (the show's coy refusal to use the "g" word has made this storyline a self-parody). Bezzerides is relegated to cage duty and forced to endure oafish goading in her sexual harassment workshop. Semyon moves out of his big house while his wife reveals complete disillusionment with his backslide. Velcoro, now working for Semyon, is about to lose his son in a custody battle - and possibly find out he's not the father though I suspect the show will try to surprise us by going in the other direction. While some of these moments are handled much better (or much, much worse) than others, they are all potentially intriguing situations.

Surprisingly, the investigation is moving along too. The missing hard-drive (presumably stolen by the bird-man from the snuff house) comes into play, when Semyon is essentially promised back into the land deal if he can dig it up. Caspere's diamonds are linked to both Velcoro's dead partner and Bezzerides' missing girl case, while photos from the parties lead Velcoro to attack the sniveling shrink. This promising sequence is embarrassingly executed: the psychiatrist's sneering demeanor turns on a dime, the info-dump of exposition is barely disguised by the bloodshed, and Velcoro's vicious manhandling plays more like comically over-the-top fanservice than genuine necessity). For me, at least, this humiliation clears the doctor of any further suspicion as Caspere's killer. Someone else was wearing that bird mask, and I still like the idea - as others have suggested - that the bird-man was actually a bird-woman, and the missing maid has something to do with Velcoro's shooting and/or Caspere's death. Maybe she has a connection to Semyon too, and purposefully sabotaged his business ventures at the same time she dispatched her abuser, killing - pardon the expression - two birds with one stone? It all could become rather silly, but at least has the virtue of originality.

Most of all, the episode succeeds in creating a sense of openness. I really liked the scene near the end where Bezzerides and Woodrugh follow a lead to a house in the woods. they discover a cabin with a bloody chair and carion birds flying overhead; increasingly we are getting into the territory of season 1's murderous and corrupt cult, though we've still only gotten two scenes with Bezzerides' father (maybe he's the killer and they're saving him for last). There really is a lot of potential here for the last three episode but just as True Detective resolves one issue, it opens up another. Next week's quality will depend on the director as much as anything and I hope Pizzolatto is learning his lesson from the lukewarm reaction to this season. For the next installment he needs to swallow his pride and bring on a single director whose vision can complement and yes, even at times curtail his own. I don't see it happening (profiles and interviews suggest he is deeply invested in seeing himself as the heroic sole showrunner, standing astride the TV world) but it is a shame to see this much potential going to waste.

After watching "Other Lives," I am relieved that the show has stopped spinning in circles, convinced that it is not going to come anywhere near the heights of season one, and worried that nobody - not the actors, certainly not the musical-chairs directors, not even the mastermind writer himself - has any grasp on the big picture. I hope next week's episode is really good, and it looks like it very well may be. I've heard good things about the director in advance, and the preview has a number of cool ideas, like Bezzerides going undercover in the club and Semyon and Velcoro, who have the show's best high-tension chemistry, facing off in Semyon's new home while his wife hovers somewhere offscreen. (After all, Velcoro now knows he was set up to kill the wrong man over a decade ago.) But even if the next entry is stellar I think it's fair to say the idea of a consistently masterful season-to-season True Detective is a lost cause. True Detective season 1's elevated status was a fluke, or rather it came about for very, very specific reasons which Nic Pizzolatto has no desire to repeat.


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Neon Genesis Evangelion, Episode 11 - "The Day Tokyo-3 Stood Still"

July 22, 2015, 7:00 am
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This series is an episode guide to the Japanese anime television show Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995 - 96) and the spin-off films. Each entry includes my own reflection on the episode, followed by a conversation with fellow bloggers Bob Clark and Murderous Ink.

Every now and then, Evangelion likes to test its futuristic, techno-savvy characters by robbing them of their basic resources. They typically prove themselves inventive, if not exactly cool under pressure. Perhaps our cast has an advantage over most sci-fi ensembles in that they are all (at least those in adulthood) survivors of an apocalypse; while they may be blessed with sophisticated technology, they don't particularly take it for granted. Even the children have had the carnage of the "Second Impact" drilled into them, with the recurring challenge of Angel visitations keeping them on their toes. As in Operation Yashima the machine city of the future loses all electrical power. But this time it is not a military decision and the cause is unknown (sabotage is suspected - as Cmdr. Ikari sagely muses, "Mankind is still its own worst enemy"). The results display a fair amount of admirable ingenuity, if also some inadvertent ridiculousness as the challenges mount.

The episode begins as NERV staffers describe the city's reliance on machines, not just for maintenance but for actual governance (the "Magi" computers are consulted by elected leaders, who then merely enforce their decrees). Unsurprisingly - especially in a show where narrative developments occur swiftly and without warning - the power falters soon after. There's a dramatic correlation here too; Shinji notices the outage when a phone call cuts out. He's talking to his father about some sort of parent-teacher conference, and the distant commander is rebuking him for bringing up such a petty matter. At the exact moment Shinji is reminded of his father's almost robotic removal from normal human society (and hence, his own), the authority and efficiency of his father's technocratic world flickers and fades.

The rest of the plot has fun subverting the supposedly smooth operations of NERV and Tokyo-3, sending its teenage pilots crawling through air ducts and bickering over petty matters while normally cool, cerebral scientists sweat and grunt to load up the Evangelions. The Evas themselves are made to look ridiculous when the Angel's acid sends them clattering down the release chute they were previously climbing like monkeys ("This is so uncool," Asuka remarks as the machines crawl on hands and knees through the duct leading to that chute, gigantic monster machines reduced to toddler tactics). There's a humorous echo as we saw the immature pilots clatter and collapse in similar fashion just a few scenes earlier; by the end of the episode, an elevator will open to reveal Misato and Kaji similarly (un)composed on the floor, due to the sudden restoration of power and the elevator's jerky movement although their positioning looks positively post-coital. Whether human or mechanical, child or adult, the episode delights in reminding us, we're all just stumbling and fumbling along.

Meanwhile, "The Day Tokyo-3 Stood Still" finally offers Rei a character comeback; after relegating her to a distant third in the adolescent pilot drama, she finally gets her second wind as an appropriate foil for Asuka. As the German redhead brags, blusters, blunders, and ultimately braves her way through the plot's challenges, Rei remains almost comically composed and focused, ignoring Asuka's assertion of leadership, accepting her assignment in the final showdown, and landing gracefully on the floor while Asuka and Shinji collapse in a tangled mess after flirtatious bickering in the fragile duct above. It's been said that Hideaki Anno grew tired of Rei after the first few episodes, and came to prefer Asuka's adolescent and all-too-human antics. Perhaps; but Episode 11 allows Rei a way back into the plot, her alien assurance providing comic counterpoint to Asuka's bossy bravado. Shinji, by contrast, takes a backseat again after slowly re-emerging in the previous episode - he mostly observes and obeys, and his reticence (if not his nervousness) puts him in league with Rei rather than Asuka.

What we have here is an episode that works in classic TV series fashion (not always the case as Evangelion focuses on a larger arc and shorter lifespan especially near its end). A challenge and theme are introduced early in the episode, and the characters are allowed to respond and reveal themselves in a particular self-enclosed scenario. Meanwhile, some of the more overarching themes are advanced, particularly the notion that NERV may be betrayed from within and, on a more personal level, the erotic/hostile relationship between Misato and Kaji. Most importantly, even as our heroes survive and even excel under pressure we are witnessing the holes and blind spots in their centralized, technology-reliant society - if human beings can conceive creative solutions at the spur of the moment, they can also crack under the stress eventually. As Cmdr. Ikari reminds us, the true enemy may be within.


Conversation with Bob Clark and Murderous Ink

Bob: The first thing I thought of when watching it now was how much this episode ramps up the pace, although to an extent that's true of most of the episodic ones so far, the Asuka ones. An angel is introduced and defeated over the course of one episode, rather than spreading it out as the first and third angels did. What's different here from the second, fourth, fifth and sixth ones is that this episode takes place almost in real time, rather than covering a larger timespan (Both of You Dance Like You Want To Win, for example, covers about a week).

me: Interesting point. What mainly struck me was the delight this episode has in subverting the future world's technological self-assurance, while also respectfully revealing their ingenuity under pressure.

Bob: Yeah, also the various tropes of the genre, all the practical military stuff. I loved that bit-- "I thought those service ladders were just a nostalgic decoration" or something-- it both sends up the military fetish genre, but by bringing the tech down it also underlines and solidifies the admiration in it.

me: Also, we get to see more of Rei again. As a foil for Asuka, she actually seems to get more attention than Shinji.

Bob: Yeah, Rei gets a fair amount of back-burner subtle development here, as does the NERV-vs-SEELE plot. We understand that the Geo-Front has been hacked by an outsider element, and we understand Rei a bit more from her cryptic comments and strange calm under pressure.

me: It's interesting how, while exemplifying the NERV team's performance under pressure, this episode also plants the seed that they are fallible and, ultimately, fragile.
Any thoughts on the Angel, and its significance? The form it takes, or its tactics?

Bob: Well, the whole acid tears from an all-seeing-eye motif is interesting. Tactically, it's sort of a replay of the Operation Yashima angle, though sped up tremendously. It shows that the angels are learning fast.

me: What do you think is the significance of the increased pace - the "real-time" aspect? It reminded me a little of the episode where Shinji has to rescue his classmates. In episodes like these, there is a sense of the necessity for improvising - and also a strong sense of the Evas not as godlike machines but oversized humans (or even animals), extensions of their pilots for better or worse.

Bob: It heightens the danger and stakes for each encounter to come, and to an extent erases the accomplishments of past encounters. Who cares about the last time you saved the world-- you have to do it again now, and in half the time. The pressure's up, and as it keeps going up, the kids are more likely to crack. NERV's other crew as well, and the fact that we see more of an off-base life for some of them at the start here isn't an accident. Both those little things like walking to work, doing the laundry and the increased effort they have to do in activating EVA units without electricity are there to humanize the "bridge bunnies".

me: Yeah, I've mentioned before some episodes seem more like "TV show" standalones, others seem to play a part in some overarching arc. This is definitely one of the former types. It fleshes out characters, puts them in unique situations and allows us to explore a world as if we have time to spare.

Bob: It's especially more of a "TV show" standalone vis-a-vis most anime, as in it's not explicitly part of a larger arc full of filler material (being that a lot of popular anime is based on manga and spread out over a looooooooooong period of time).

me: Why is that?
(that Eva functions in that "TV show" way I mean, in contrast to other animes)

Bob: Well, it's original for one thing. And it has a more limited episode order than say, Anno's previous show, Nadia, did. Every episode has to count. But it's also more than an OVA, so there's just enough room to explore and experiment a little.
There's more continuity here than in a show like Cowboy Bebop, which aside from maybe four or five episodes is pretty much all stand-alones.

me: Any significance for you in the power outage occurring as Shinji's father reprimands him?

Bob: Not really. It's a good moment to hint that the power's going out, as it involves a character moment and action. Though I do like the idea that we've now had two episodes dealing with large power-outages-- first NERV creates a nationwide blackout during Operation Yashima to bring down an Eva, then SEELE targets Tokyo 3 with an outage to test NERV's defensive capabilities.

me: For some reason I thought it was a saboteur.

Bob: Even so, they'd probably be working for SEELE. Anyway, all the redundancies were cut too, so it'd be more than just one person.

me: I didn't think they did as much with the Misato-Kaji elevator sequence as they could have, but then I guess it's hard to have too many developed subplots in an action-heavy 22-minute episode. 

Bob: Well, we already had one elevator make-out sequence with them previously. This is just here to be a joke. That and-- we get to see the kids without any real leadership from the adults. Misato's isolated from them even more than the NERV crew. That allows the moment when Asuka finally turns into a real leader to hit us a lot harder, feel like a more genuine moment of character development.

me: Yeah this is really her highlight - she even says so in the scene, something to the effect of "This way I won't owe you anymore for rescuing me."

Bob: Yeah, and even so, it's treated with a kind of maturity. They all get serious, very in the moment-- no more bickering when they have to do the job, just instinctively falling into the right roles and doing what they have to do. It's the first time they all work as a team, and it makes you want to see more of their teamwork, because it allows them to take out an angel in record time, and overcome great hardship.

me: The episode earns that moment too because it also lets us see the Evas not as flawless super-machines but extensions of the sometimes clumsy teenage pilots who command them. Specifically there's the mirror imagery of them crawling through the duct on hands and knees, and then the figures falling and colliding as they lose their grip. So when it comes to that final heroism it's clearly them as human pilots, not just their military hardware, saving the day. 

Bob: Although I have to admit they kinda screw the pooch on the "EVA batteries only have 3 minutes of life" thing there.

me: Re: battery life, because of all the crawling before the battle begins? 

Bob: Pushes it a bit.

me: Don't they show them with a little over 2 minutes left when the slip into the hiding space? Yeah, that would mean they'd been crawling, climbing, and falling for something like 30 seconds...

Bob: The way the kids become so dependent on each other in those last moments really helps make this next batch of episodes have a feel of the three of them working together, which then comes to a kinda climax with Shinji again becoming the stand-alone hero, though with more and more Eva-monstrosity.

me: I know you've said Anno lost interest in Rei early. How do you think that plays out here though, where he seems to find a new role for her (increased of course in later episodes where she again plays an important role)?

Bob: Well, right now she fits as a background thing. She has a big backstory that can't be revealed too soon, so little hints and clues is enough for now, and seeing how she develops as a part of the group. Even the comments she makes about humanity with Asuka and Shinji show her growing a lot.Those exchanges previously in the episode where they're nagivating the superstructure do a good job of showing their personalities-- Rei is resigned to her fate, but businesslike. Shinji follows them, but voices pretty serious concerns about what they do-- he seems like the first person at NERV to wonder why they call their enemies "Angels" (or "Apostles" in Japanese, I think). While Asuka is very gung-ho about it, desperate for action.

me: That was something I forgot to mention in my intro or in this conversation. The appearance of that questioning doesn't seem coincidental. That's where I think even the conversation with his father is partially related - the power failure in this episode seems indicative of a larger phenomenon, a hint of the failure of (human/institutional) power to come. The order of their universe is being thrown into question. Having established a pretty consistent pattern by this point, NGE can start to question & expose holes in its basic premises. 

Bob: Yeah. And the basic premises of the various genres it inhabits, by extension.
But it's only a tiny question, of course. Asuka brushes it aside really quickly.

me: When I recall the final third of the series, it seems like everything kind of dissolves & becomes unmoored. The first third of the series establishes both the fragility of the world and the resilience of the system created to resist it. The middle third - which we're in now - explores characters and the world they inhabit while taking that system for granted, but also beginning to plant seeds of doubt. That "tiny question" will mutate into something far more disturbing by the end of the series I think - particularly by the time we get to End of Evangelion. There's a structure and framework within which the characters must operate to survive but ultimately its makeshift qualities and compromises will be revealed.

Bob: Yeah. Which makes the importance of the hard definition the characters have so important-- by the end, they're all we'll have to hold on to. And it shows maybe just why it became an essential classic so quickly-- the characters are anchors in a sea of chaos.

Murderous Ink: Your discussion pointed out that as the series progresses, the battles revolves around individuals rather than global crisis. This is particularly critical to understand why NGE made such an impact on Japanese subculture. These kids are going to school just like others, and NERV scientists are commuting on train and worrying about washing clothes just like ordinary people. Gradually, the fantasy of an ordinary man facing global crisis everyday becomes the central point of this series. In this sense, convolution toward the final episodes can be foreseen at this stage of the series. It is all the more fascinating that Shinji's unfulfilled sexual drives and his submissive attitudes are always laid out as undertones in this convolution. I think it was in the Episode 10 that Asuka criticizes Shinji being so "predictable" and "being domesticated" by authorities (schools). This 'domestication' - as in 1984 or Brazil, for example - usually drives the fantasies of being a savior, or at least of being liberated from authorities. Even though Japan in NGE world is not as totalitarian as in 1984, 'domestication' is more complete. Shinji questions his savior status, as if he doesn't want to be liberated from ordinary boring world of schools and domestic affairs.

me: Any final thoughts, uncovered business?

Bob: Hm, a few things.The blackout makes the sunlight effects at the start of the episode stand out in a really cool way. Something you don't see in digitally made anime nowadays.
Also, as with Operation Yashima, we have a prominent moment of watching the stars. Not an accident I think. Something that may be an accident, but feels cool anyway-- another little Bond trope. The four note melody that ends the episode (and the Jet Alone one, I think) is a match for "All Time High" from Octopussy.

me: This seems to be an episode where we see the kids more independently. They have to get to the HQ on their own, their mission is directed by themselves without any command, and there they are in the end, relaxing on the hilltop in the uniforms, without adult supervision.
Partly this is their growth, but maybe also a weakening of the adult roles - increasingly they don't seem all that reliable.
At any rate it begins to prepare us for the final batch of episodes in which not only do we see the kids forced to fend for themselves, but also flash back to the adults in their younger days and see the extent to which they are still stumbling & recovering (or not recovering) from youthful mistakes and confusion. 

Bob: To an extent, yeah. Each episode is more and more of a crisis.



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True Detective season 2 episode 6 - "Church in Ruins"

July 27, 2015, 7:00 am
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Next week, my True Detective coverage will return to Tuesdays. But as my planned Monday post gets delayed, it made sense to bump this review up to today. The Twin Peaks memories round-up will post sometime by the end of July.

Finally! It's impossible to ask a single episode to do the heavy lifting for an entire season but "Church in Ruins" comes way closer than I could have expected after five disappointing entries of True Detective. You want Velcoro's paternal pathos to actually land, so that you can genuinely empathize with both his and his son's (and his ex-wife's) discomfort? Check. Looking for the various strands of the mystery to come together in ways that don't just involve characters discussing their connections onscreen (if we're even lucky enough to get that)? Got it. Tired of Rachel McAdams simmering in the background, giving her all but mostly wasted in a "gotta give 'em a female cop, but damned if we know what to do with her?" role? Well damn, she not only gets a piece of the action (after being sadly sidelined in the heat of episode 4) and really well-handled, disturbing character development (a flashback to childhood molestation, presumably on her father's compound, which is convincingly intermingled with her involvement on the party). Ani Bezzerides also features as the dramatic centerpiece of the show's final twenty minutes, in a fashion that has so far been reserved only for the other characters. And Chekhov's knives are not wasted.

I had fairly high hopes for episode 6, tempered of course by my frustrations with season 2 so far. But one of the podcasts I listen to mentioned Miguel Sapochnik as a really excellent director (IMDb shows one film I'm not familiar with, Repo Men - apparently no relation to Repo Man - and a whole bunch of TV credits), and after last week's build-up and the snippets in its "next time" preview there seemed to be some interesting ideas at play. The episode opens, as it must, with one of those ideas...the one that contains the most potential for disappointment. After all, what does a showdown between Velcoro and Semyon really mean when we can be almost certain that neither of them will die? Sure enough, I felt my stomach sinking as the season's biggest names faced each other across another table, this time in a Glendale suburban home rather than a dimly-lit bar. There was something a tad too contrived in the way each one placed their left arm on the table and used their other hand to aim a gun under the tablecloth. Semyon's lines were as flowery as ever, with Vaughn's clipped, Ivy League-meets-mean streets dialogue in fine form. Here we go again, I muttered.

But as the scene played out, I could feel it working. What was missing in the dialogue (tiresomely repetitious exposition for those who haven't been paying attention apparently) started to develop in the tics, brief pauses, and long silences exchanged across the kitchen. Hell, there were even moments, like when the two opponents finally relax and sip their coffee, where I laughed out loud and felt like I was actually supposed to be laughing. It's been clear since season one that Pizzolatto is less interested in creating narrative fireworks than in using scenes to explore characters and their relationships. Unfortunately, the actors never seemed to hit their stride, with director after director unable to overcome the look-at-me lines and reliance on explicit statement rather than artful subtext (and dialogue rather than behavior). Finally, in Sapochnik, the show has found a director unafraid to put his own stamp on the material, allowing it to breathe in a way that makes not only the actors but the writer look good. I was reminded that Pizzolatto's dialogue and scene structure worked so much better in the first season because they were embedded in a larger texture of gesture, sound design, and atmosphere.

Sapochnik finds the potential for these scenes between the words rather than in them and that's the key that's been missing. You can feel it when Semyon visits the house of his slain henchman Stan, and bonds with his son. Stan's complete non-presence before his played-up death has basically become a punchline in numerous commentaries (I still have no clue what Stan looked like), but remarkably the scene is actually fairly poignant. Semyon's advice could easily feel trite, not to mention entirely inappropriate (a variation on the "adversity makes you stronger" motif, climaxing - I kid you note - in Semyon telling this random child that he has true gold inside of him). But Sapochnik and Vaughn find the pacing and line reading to sell the moment. This potentially unearned sentimental touch also works because it is intercut with Velcoro's painful/(very darkly) hilarious, extremely awkward visit with his son  -a great depiction of father-son non-bonding. The situation tips into full-fledged pathos immediately afterwards, when the barely-trying detective binges on booze and coke, surges with energy, crashes into despair, and then calls his wife with a weepy plea not to tell his son about his real father, in exchange for never seeing the boy again.

Well, this is vintage Pizzolatto: familial pain, blistering testosterone, weepy macho self-pity, the blurred line between noble self-sacrifice and narcissistic neediness. I suspect some critics will mock or call it out on those grounds, but all of this potentially cliched, self-important material also has the potential to resonate with and move the viewer, to honor and elevate its own ambiguity. I thought this montage was fantastic, maybe Farrell's best work on the show, and a useful reminder that quality can be determined by delivery as much as preparation. Given the season's stumbles so far (and some lingering clunkiness when the episode's script is divorced from its direction), it is tempting to credit the episode's accomplishment entirely to Sapochnik and the actors. But that isn't fair. This is still Pizzolatto's world, and he has plants the seeds which others are then able to cultivate. By treating his work as something to be played with rather than embalmed onscreen, True Detective is allowed to reach its full potential.

Besides, Pizzolatto does a excellent job honing in on the mysteries, illuminating underserved character threads while ignoring less interesting ones, and delivering on key plot points (like the missing girl and the blue diamonds, which are suddenly far more interesting than they had any right to be). Semyon's underworld investigation finally offers something other than dull repetition and hamfisted exchanges when the spooky soft-spoken gangster and his silent, cowboy-hatted compatriot return to the scene. In a nice twist, the two are linked to Irina - the girlfriend of the man who was framed (and executed) for Caspere's murder. They negotiate a phone call and meeting with Semyon in return for a stake in his club; they deliver on the phone call (she reveals that a cop set her up) but the meeting turns out to be one-sided. When Semyon shows up at the rendezvous, Irina's throat has been slit by the two men, who coldly tell the clearly upset tough guy that they've held up their end of the bargain (he said he wanted to see her, not that she had to be alive), and they expect him to hold up his.

These folks are by far the most menacing characters we've met all season. And, aside from the shocking but completely anonymous civilian casualties in the shootout, Irina's death is the first violent act to truly connect on a visceral level. This is the perfect set-up for the stakes of Bezzerides' grotesque, Molly-fueled journey through the looking glass, and it reminds us that this episode is the first to make us care about any of these characters. Thus the stakes at Blake's private party actually feel higher than those of the shootout in episode 4. Not only does Sapochnik's vivid, lurid filmmaking offer a visceral kick, but the characters finally seem vulnerable, real, and worth investing in. This is especially true of Bezzerides, whose scene with her sister is so much sharper than last episode's awkward beach chat. Her undercover mission is the most effective, succinct presentation yet of her vulnerability and ingenuity in navigating a male-dominated world (a theme that was explicated in dialogue back in episode two, but sinks in more deeply when we're allowed to witness it firsthand).

If McAdams has been the most-praised cast member of season two, and Bezzerides the most admired character, it may in part be because the reserved detective has managed to sidestep the show's more ridiculous lines and act more with her face than her words. But this has also been a liability in a show defined by characters who talk (and talk and talk) about their issues; sometimes it feels like we know her less than any of the others. She has placed a wall not just between herself and other characters, but herself and us. "Church in Ruins" brilliantly tears down that wall as the detective guides us into the series' most subjective sequence yet (the only competition is Velcoro's dream in episode 3). Here again we are greeted by situations that could easily dissolve into cliche: the swooning, bleary hallucination; the flashback to traumatic childhood incident; the decadent orgy fusing elite decorum with grungy depravity. This is not to criticize Pizzolatto's choices, merely to point out that so much depends on delivery.

Rather than try too hard to ape Lynch or Kubrick's visual extravaganzas (as Janus Metz did with Conrad Twitty), Sapochnik wisely centers the scene on McAdams alternately frightened, confused, determined, and despairing expression so that when we cut away we still have that face in mind. This is true of the entire episode, really (an interview with an old cop allows the actor to sink into the role rather than just recite backstory; lead investigator Davis' frustration with a sheriff gives some snap to a character whose importance had seemingly come out of nowhere; even Irina, whom we meet only over the phone, convinces us of her terror with her voice, allowing her murder to truly disturb us). It's what has been missing: the realization that these characters are not vessels for various themes, plot points, or lines but vice versa. McAdams does wonderful work in this sequence, and the character payoff is a testament not only to Sapochnik's patience but Pizzolatto's preparation. Here is one area, at least, where it feels like dramatic delays and wheel-spinning served a purpose.

Last season made a point of balancing awed hero worship and humbling humanization of its main characters, but this was rarely achieved within the same scene (indeed, the seesawing effect of this characterization gave the arcs an uneven, not entirely satisfactory shape). "Church in Ruins" manages to heroize and humanize Bezzerides simultaneously and if the escape from the climactic orgy seems way too easy I can live with that, because the show has done something more important: it made me believe in the soul rather than the logistics of the situation. Good work, True Detective. Now let's buckle up for the final two episodes, and hope that you can sustain this momentum. At best, episode 6 is a much-needed boost in the home stretch but even at worst it's a shining moment that reminds us of the sort of show we might have been watching all along - a peek into a lost opportunity that nonetheless is better than no peek at all.

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Neon Genesis Evangelion, Episode 12 - "She said, 'Don't make others suffer for your personal hatred.'"

July 29, 2015, 7:00 am
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This series is an episode guide to the Japanese anime television show Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995 - 96) and the spin-off films. Each entry includes my own reflection on the episode, followed by a conversation with fellow bloggers Bob Clark and Murderous Ink.

In one of the show's boldest beginnings, we witness the infamous Armageddon of 2000. A stark title card places us in the past: "fifteen years ago" (and of course watching the show now, this chronology is as true as it is surreal). We are in outer space, hovering over the moon as in the distance a silent explosion ripples along the earth's surface. From this cold, omniscient viewpoint we move closer to discover a scarred, exhausted figure moving through the blistering fallout. In his arms is a young girl and as he carries her toward a capsule that can shield her from this destruction he looks like Abraham carrying Isaac, only the role has been reversed: this man is sacrificing himself to save his daughter from the wrath of angels.

The long-winded title of this episode is very revealing. After foregrounding the mechanics of recent missions while subtly developing character on the sly, Neon Genesis Evangelion once again privileges psychological over technological concerns. The episode's recurring question, usually addressed to Shinji, is "What motivates you to fight the Angels?" Everyone has their reasons (as Jean Renoir once said), and for everyone those reasons are personal and emotional. Asuka wants to "exhibit my talent to the world, of course," before frankly affirming Shinji's suspicion that this translates to proving she exists. Shinji himself isn't sure why he continues to pilot the Eva, but eventually concludes that the praise of his father may be his key goal. And Misato (as we learn in that opening sequence, for she was the girl in her father's arm) seeks revenge, though she isn't sure if her real target is the Angels or the father who abandoned her before eventually saving her life. With this, we discover a new bond between Shinji and Misato.

Although the latest battle requires a massive evacuation of Tokyo-3, and a horrified Ritusko tells Misato the odds of the pilots survival are less than 1 in 10,000, the enemy is more than ever a pretext for character development. We never really believe it poses much of a threat to our ensemble's existence; not only have we grown used to the repeated challenges but the characters themselves dispel any tension with their banter. Despite the massive, near-atomic explosion when the Angel is destroyed, our pilots emerge without a scratch, concerned mostly with where Misato will take them out for their promised culinary reward. Having just saved the world (again) they let the newly-promoted but financially-struggling Major off the hook with a visit to a ramen cart. For Shinji the biggest deal is that his father offers a stern but sincere acknowledgement of his achievement.

Shinji, by the way, is finally front-and-center again after mostly playing backseat to Asuka for several episodes. He's not the only one to make a comeback in terms of story focus. Misato is also fairly central to the episode, beginning with that flashback to the Second Impact. When we see her awaken and emerge from the capsule she is drifting in a sea of toxic waste, staring in terror at the apocalyptic horizon, her father long since disintegrated. She still feels that loss and isolation as an adult. Throughout the episode we see her external composure and sense her internal hurt. As Asuka typically brags and badgers her way through the story, Kensuke and Toji re-emerge as characters, and Rei once again disappears into the background, Misato's and Shinji's bond becomes the emotional throughline. Though both are emotionally withdrawn, Misato masks her reticence through gregarious extroversion.

I noticed more expressive character animation in this episode. Despite stretches featuring very still figures - an almost a comic-book sense of composition is particularly evident in early sequences - facial expressions are often very detailed. Even as the three pilots form a cohesive unit, battling an Angel on equal terms for the first time, their inner lives come into focus. When Shinji talks about his father, only Misato pauses mid-noodle, to appreciate what he's saying. The characters in these middle episodes are embracing their roles, tightening their efficiency, and generally focusing on the mission at hand. But the seeds of their various breakdowns and breakthroughs are being planted, subtly, as we learn what makes them tick.


Conversation with Bob Clark (& additional thoughts from Murderous Ink)

me: Is this the first flashback we've seen on NGE?

Bob: Well, we had the flashback to Shinji crying when his father leaves him in the first episode, but that's only a single image really.

me: Yeah that's exactly what I was just thinking. This is kind of a harbinger of things to come.

Bob: And we've had flashbacks to different moments through the show. Like the flashback to Misato chewing him out in the "Rain, Escape and Afterwards" one.

me: But flashback to before the show began, seems more rare.

Bob: I think this is the first flashback we've seen to the Second Impact.
Two sci-fi connections I thought of in that early stuff-- an obvious Kubrick homage in the moon/earth shot, and the whole "discovering an alien in the antarctic" is basically "The Thing (From Another World").
It is rare to see such a deliberate flashback to the past here. We'll get more of them as time goes on, but for the most part we're meant to suss out clues and details for ourselves.

me: This is a very odd Angel. It seems almost more abstract, less textured than a lot of others. Like it doesn't inhabit the same physical space.

Bob: Well, they're getting more and more abstract, aren't they? I mean, the 3rd Angel certainly already was super abstract, almost like one of Pythagoras' shapes.
But these last two are very symbol oriented. The all-seeing-eye motif is something that doesn't look like it could be as "naturally" evolved as the other Angels are. It suggests a clear attempt by the Angels to connect with us, on some level.

me: Watching this time, I'm realizing how cleanly the show breaks into like 3 periods. Honestly, the mid-section is probably my least favorite of them. It seems the most episodic and the least concerned with overall story or character arcs, yet nonetheless it's interesting to see seeds being planted for later developments. On this one I noted how the emphasis seemed to be much more on the pilots' motivations and relationships than what they had to do to fight the Angel.

Bob: Yeah. I think we only spend about ten minutes overall on the actual Angel. Everything else is developing the characters-- everybody gets some little bit of definition. Mostly we're focusing on Misato and Shinji (and him getting the spotlight really is interesting after sharing it with the other kids for so long-- Asuka and even Rei feel more like "typical kids" than ever, people Shinji has to struggle to connect with).

me: Indeed, w/ Angel battles there's a bit of a "Boy Who Cried Wolf" syndrome at work. We've heard so often that the end is nigh; even the characters themselves don't seem very flustered by this point.

Bob: Right now, the "Boy Who Cried Wolf" thing gives you a pretty good idea of how seige mentality works, I guess. Each time there's a real wolf attacking, and every battle is something new you have to adapt to on the fly, but after a while it's impossible to summon up the right kind of energy for each new threat. Fatigue sets in, and that's when we'll see the kids start to crack.

me: Asuka is still a major presence but it seems like Rei slips into the background again after starting to re-emerge a bit more. This is also the first time we've seen Kensuke and Toji play a bit role in a few episodes, right?

Bob: All the religious metaphors here make me think of Israel, and their kind of seige mentality. Also, what Japan went through in the war-- having just seen an anime about a village being occupied by the Red Army after war's end makes me think of that more.

me: Despite the episodic nature of this mid-section I guess there is a development/arc inasmuch as we see the pilots slowly start to come together and become a true team. The fatigue may set in when there doesn't seem to be as much of a direction for them to go in - as long as each mission provides a new challenge/opportunity for growth they can stay distracted from their own self-doubt and anxiety.

Bob: It's interesting to see the way that for a few moments here and there, Shinji and Asuka are more or less bonding as equals. That bit where they're mutually flumoxed by Misato's offer of a steak dinner, and the tender teasing in the elevator (one of my favorite moments visually, the three of them silohuetted against the Evas).
As I've said before, too, the episodic feel here is a great way for Anno and his team to experiment with as many Angel designs and fights as they can, and to meld a lot of great character development with the minimalist action, building up the players before the master plot kicks in.

me: I found the facial expressions seemed a bit more fleshed-out in this episode. Asuka's especially.

Bob: Yeah, the look on her face in the elevator, eyelids half closed. Very Lucy Van Pelt.

me: That's the exact moment I was thinking of too. And a bit of a smirk in that same scene.
Cmdr. Ikari's been MIA a lot lately. Always with an excuse for his absence but the obvious purpose is to show Misato as a leader.

Bob: Yeah. The bit about him visiting the site of the Second Impact gives us a chance to see what's become of the world. It definitely seems limited in comparison to what we've seen in the movies since, but you can see in places how they were cutting corners in art and animation to maximize impact during battle, and in little character bits like Asuka's smirk.

me: "little character bits" - yeah, that really interested me in this episode. How it was a priority.
Parts were very still, like comic strips almost (thinking particularly of some early scenes with Misato drinking beer). But they wanted that expressiveness.

Bob: Yeah. Well, they've done that throughout the show. Rely on still shots where you can spare them, so you can save as much animation for when you really need it. Those moments between Shinji and Misato during the party help us see how disconnected both of them are from normal social behavior, isolating them from not just the action between the rest of the kids, but any action at all.

me: Yeah I liked the emphasis of that bonding. It's beginning to expose the common hurt in their backgrounds. Something Asuka and even Rei in her way will be revealed to share soon.

Bob: It's interesting to me that Asuka can't quite see the bond that Shinji and she share in terms of parental disconnect. But when we see what she went through, it's hard not to understand just how traumatic that was. Shinji is kind of cushioned by the tragic circumstances of how he lost his mother.

me: Is this the first episode in a while where we haven't received little clues about sinister motives/devious plans of NERV/SEELE?

Bob: Well, we kinda have confirmation that NERV/SEELE were the ones who accidentally (on purpose?) caused the Second Impact.

me: Where was that?

Bob: Well, we know that NERV had people at the South Pole when the SI happened, from Misato's flashback. And I think we have some ambiguous talk between Gendo and Fuyutski.

me: Anything in particular you noticed this time around?

Bob: : Well, the cross cutting between the different Evas as they run to the Angel interception has always been a big draw for me. First, the editing here is superb, cutting from one Eva to the next when they're in the same position-- jumping, landing, sprinting, each one basically picking up where the other left off. A nice subtle indication of synchronizing between the three of them.
The physicality of the animation here is great, too. I can't remember where I read this, but I think I've either read that Anno took inspiration from the way Michael Jordan moved to get the look of the Evas here, or somebody just compared it to him.

me: Yeah, even though we mentioned that plotwise the battle isn't particularly essential to this episode, it is very enjoyably executed. I also found myself wondering how much destruction the Evas wrought on the city. They cover that a little in the early episodes of course, but here it's like they're gracefully leaping over electrical wires and leaping across fields. They must've killed a lot of rabbits & such the way people casually kill insects. Or are there many animals left (aside from Pen-Pen)?

Bob: I'm not sure. The Rebuild movies make it clear that aquatic life, at least, is almost extinct

me: Any other thoughts on the episode?

Bob: There's a self-conscious element to the mid-point English title in the episode. It almost seems to fill in a blank between the two scenes. "She Said 'Don't Make Others Suffer For Your Personal Hatred'", as if you were wondering what Ritsuko said to Misato in the rest of their scene.

Thoughts on Shinji's personality
from
Murderous Ink

I wonder if Shinji's submissive, compliant, almost masochistic mental attitude is comprehensible to U.S. audience. Japanese often criticize their own super-obedient nature as 'domesticated'. Since Japanese society expects you to behave as 'the world around you' does, Shinji's behavior and mentality is often considered 'clever' and 'quiet', compared to Asuka's. If we have a girl like Asuka in our classroom, she will be either ostracized or bullied (unless she takes over the majority's favor). A boy like Shinji is always paying extra attention to people around him to avoid unnecessary confrontation. I feel he is too meek and indecisive, so he is a kind of a boy who can be a target of bullying. (Bullying is a long-standing, serious problem in Japanese schools. We have at least several suicides/year resulting from nasty bullying in schools.) Even though Shinji himself is not bullied in NGE, I suspect the relationship with his father substitutes that.


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Memories of Twin Peaks

July 30, 2015, 4:11 pm
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A round-up of fan responses to major turning points in Twin Peaks
(spoilers, obviously!)

Every month, I will be offering at least one post on Twin Peaks...up until Showtime re-airs the original series. Then I will post extensive coverage of each episode (mixing new reactions with my many older pieces) immediately after they air. Stay tuned.

A year ago, in an online forum, I asked Twin Peaks fans to share their memories of watching the show, either when it originally aired or years later on video. About a dozen users responded, in greater or lesser detail. Now I have collected and reorganized their memories here (attributing each to the username that posted it). You can read my own responses to these turning points in "My first reactions to Twin Peaks", shared a month ago, but the point of this collection is to display the amazing diversity of reactions (consider it a complement to my previous round-ups of media& alt.tv Usernet commentary). The replies have been edited to unfold point-by-point rather than person-by-person. I may add new entries if/as they come in, so if you'd like to add yours, visit the forum thread where it all began.

Each response ranges from a single word to several paragraphs. You can read them straight through, skip around to the most interesting turning points, or scroll through to follow your favorite participants

•

MY ORIGINAL POST on Dugpa's "World of Blue" forum

I first watched the series and film on DVD in 2008 and have been fascinated with it ever since. I can't think of any other story - film, television, you name it - that takes the viewer on such an emotional roller coaster. I'm really curious to know how other people reacted to it, particularly people who watched it when it was first aired on television in 1990-91 (I was only 6-7 at the time). I've read a lot of archived articles and columns from the time but on this thread I'm more interested in anecdotal, personal memories. What did these events mean to you? What reactions did you observe around you (either watching it in groups or talking to people later) - were they similar to your own?

Here are the responses I received:




Setting the scene for Twin Peaks

Audrey Horne: This is fun, and remember...candid from how I felt at the time. Teenager who watched too much adult TV as a child. 1990.

Ross: I was a Twin Peaks fan(atic) from day one, and 24 years later I’m still obsessed with it, so this should be fun. I will mention before I get into this though that I don’t have many of the same criticisms that others have about the show. I loved the whole run- then and now. Sure there are things that I’d change, but nothing I hate. So I’m guessing I might offer a different perspective on some things.

I watched a lot of TV as a kid, and I guess I still do. But nothing before or since has sparked my interest in the way that Twin Peaks did. Back then, Lynch, Frost, and others were pushing the show as “TV for people who don’t watch TV.” I think the idea behind this was just that it was so different than anything else on TV. Of course, with all the acclaim certain shows get these days, I don’t think they would sell it that way today. In fact, (some) TV is much more acclaimed than film now.

I was a senior in high-school that first season, so the same age as Laura and the other younger cast. And I think being that age and watching it for the first time added a lot to the experience. I’m sure my love for the show has lasted so long in part because of when I first saw it.

Anyway, before the pilot aired I had heard some buzzings about the show that got me interested. Mostly that this was unlike anything ever seen on TV. And they started promoting the “Who killed Laura Palmer” angle before it hit the air as well. I had no idea who Lynch was at the time. I had heard of Blue Velvet but had never seen it. So the Lynch angle wasn’t a draw for me then. But the strong buzz, and the murder mystery angle, got me to tune in.

N. Needleman: I mean, I think back then we let kids get away with a lot more (or maybe that was just my mom - she used to watch a lot of stuff like Helen Mirren in Prime Suspect with me as well). And also, for that moment in time, the show was really the biggest thing on TV and everyone watched it, so I think it trickled down to a lot of kids with their parents. They bought into one thing and ultimately got something even weirder, and I'm sure that was perceived as a bait and switch for a lot of people. But in my household it was just more like what we'd already been watching. I was a little superfan - I had the Dale Cooper tapes, the soundtrack cassette, then some sort of tie-in guidebook that I think TV Guide had done after Season 1 (not the Town Guide written later, which I've always wanted to read). I even had a giant poster of Cooper and Truman on my bedroom wall, looking down on me. But after Episode 14, I was so terrified of BOB or even the suggestion of something involving BOB that I couldn't even look at the poster! And it was just Coop and Harry with donuts! I was always especially fascinated with Sheryl Lee, first as Maddy then later, Laura, especially after seeing FWWM when I got older. My favorite characters back then were probably Maddy, Cooper, Harry, Lucy, Shelly, Norma and Ed (Peggy Lipton was so classy and graceful) and then Catherine. My tiny little gay self had a thing for the bitchy grande dames. Oddly enough I only grew to really appreciate Audrey when I got older.

Gabriel: Circa 1990, when I was about 15, I read an article about this show called Twin Peaks in a Sunday supplement, probably The Mail on Sunday or The Sunday Telegraph. It was talking about TP as the new Dallas (which put me off right away) and comparing its characters to those in Peyton Place upon which TP was said to have been based. I'd heard of Lynch being referred to negatively in reference to Dune, possibly on the BBC's hilariously trendy arts series, The Late Show, so I knew he was a bit quirky. I'd also started to read Dune around then. My Grandfather had retired recently and moved with my Grandmother across the country to live nearer my parents. I'd been helping them set up their new house and Twin Peaks happened to be on. So I was at their house and we just happened to watch it on its first, Tuesday screening.

rocketsan22: I came to the party very late. It was a photo in the Toronto Sun proclaiming that the much anticipated season two premier was upon us. If it wasn't for Sherilyn Fenn's captivating eyes, I might have missed it all. I was a college football junkie and I watched very little regular television so I had not heard of Twin Peaks before that point.

It wasn't until the international pilot came out [on video] that I was able to see [any version of the pilot]. I had waited so long to see it, it was euphoric to finally experience it.

I did make a trip to the U.S. where I saw single episode videos. I purchased the episode one VHS which I must have watched about twenty times to get my fill…

chalfont: I remember the show was advertised on TV in the days and maybe weeks before it started and was looking forward to it. Think I even I discussed with friends and family that we need to watch this (as if we had any choice, really - we only had 1 TV-channel :-D ). It was aired here [Norway] on Fridays or Saturdays.

Rami Airola: I was 8 years old when it first aired in Finland (it was the spring of 1991, I was born in August 1982). I saw most of the episodes.

Mb3: Around 1991 TP aired on German television, I was eleven years during that time and barely watched any kind of TV shows. My main interest during that time was sports (soccer and basketball). My cousin who's three years older than me told me about a show with some quirky and strange characters called Twin Peaks and that she watched it regularly. I remember that I caught a glimpse of some TP episodes by switching through the TV program and my thoughts back then were: "Damn, this is another one of these soap operas, no wonder my cousin likes it so much, it's girls' stuff." I guess I was just to immature back then and that was the main reason for my thinking.

In 2008, I'm 28 now and still not a big fan of TV series but I already own nearly all of David Lynch's films on DVD except for Twin Peaks and Inland Empire. So since the Gold Box edition just came out some months ago and also the Inland Empire DVD I finally had to expand my collection. I also bought the movie FWWM.

I took some days off from work and watched all of the episodes and FWWM together with my brother (who also loves Lynch's work). Of course we both loved it or else I probably wouldn't be sharing my thoughts on this forum.

BlackMoonLilith: In terms of the show's big moments, I marathoned the entire series during spring of 2010, from pilot to FWWM over a Monday-Friday period. One thing that does surprise me in retrospect is that I watched them while I was at work! I had to deal with customers, but a typical day had very few actual people come in so I would browse the Internet on the work computer and bring my laptop and headphones to watch stuff at the same time. Five years later, I'm surprised, not just that I first saw such dark and harrowing things in that context, but that I had the balls to do that!

HoodedMatt: I was around 10 or 11 when it aired in the UK and it only vaguely appeared on my radar. Somehow I managed to go from then until last year without getting majorly spoiled, so it was all fresh and new for me.


1. The pilot

BOB1: The music, the river flowing lazily by, the face of the dead girl... and I was totally captivated... and then the image of Leo's truck as Shelly and Bobby see it all of a sudden. I could never later quite understand why this truck made such an impression on me the first time.

Audrey Horne: Cool, I want to watch this, I love Agatha Christie and whodunits! I'm not going to be home but hey, I will record it on VHS and then watch it. Thank god I did. Saw Blue Velvet when I was twelve, and was already a film criticism nerd, and grew up with HBO playing The Elephant Man a lot. Thought Dune was boring and not Star Wars. So I knew who Lynch was. Never watched Hill Street Blues but could hum its theme song. Anyway, watched the pilot by myself... Holy moly! Really into the wacky receptionist, Agent Cooper, James and Donna and those bikers! Love the young sister of Donna. Who did it?! Where's that woman in the ads with Cooper where they are drinking coffee? Surely the parents won't be in this thing much past this episode... That would be too depressing.

hopesfall: This is so fascinating to read! AH, you remind me of how my older sister was when she was watching the show! :lol:

My first introduction to it was her trying to scare the crap out of her younger brother (me) by putting the pilot on and then subsequent episodes from her recorded VHS tapes. I must have been 9-10 at the time, it really did scare me.

It took me a short while to come round to watching the pilot of my own accord, but when I did I watched it a lot, although even then I would always fast forward past certain bits that upset/frightened me like Sarah's manic crying (that hit me hard), Ronette walking across the bridge (her zombie-like walk and appearance scared the shit out of me) and Sarah's vision of the gloved hand at the end.

Alas, it's because of my sister that I became somewhat obsessed with the show. AH's posts are so similar to her behaviour at the time that it made me chuckle, she wanted to know EVERYTHING and any time there was anything to do with Twin Peaks in the media she would go nuts.

HoodedMatt: They had me from "Lonesome foghorn blows." We sat down to watch it - my wife had been trying to get me interested for ages, but it took us having a free weekend with nothing new to watch for me to agree - and I was hooked.
Ygdrasel: James snapping his pencil in two made me roll my eyes. He couldn't pull off actually emoting a little so he went for camp. The rest of the pilot was great though. I do recall getting a bit exhausted because I wasn't aware that the pilot was movie-length.

Rami Airola: This is weird. The way I remember it as that instead of Sarah having a vision of the necklace, she remembers seeing Bob. When half of the series aired again in 1995 (they stopped the series in episode 14), I think I remember seeing the necklace-vision for the first time. I wonder if they showed us the European pilot, but then again I don't remember seeing the "Mike shoots Bob" scene until I many many many years later bought the VHS of the European pilot that was released in Finland separately. Maybe they showed the European version, but cut before the last half hour.

chalfont: I can't really remember my initial reaction to the pilot other than everyone really liked it. I remember my neighbours had taped it on VHS, so we watched it a few times.

Gabriel: I found it fascinating and utterly unlike Dallas. It was downright spooky yet very funny and very sad. My grandparents gave up at episode 3, but my parents and I stuck with it. My grandparents had rented a TV and VHS machine (as people did back then) so they let me have their old Betamax machine. I used all their old tapes to record the show. There was just enough room to fit George C Scott's A Christmas Carol on the end of one tape as well. My grandparents are gone now, so there's going to be a bittersweet feeling relinking with the show after so many years. So many family members gone, friends moved on, me having moved cities twice…

Ross: I still vividly remember watching the pilot. My dad was watching something else on the main TV, so I ended up watching alone in our basement. My mom watched on a portable black & white TV in the kitchen. From the start of the opening credits, I was mesmerized. The visuals with Badalamenti’s music had me hooked. I kept thinking, what is this great music? To this day I’ve never seen a more perfect pilot episode. Everything in it set up the show perfectly. Most TV series have OK pilots and then they end up finding themselves and getting better. TP was unique in that everything clicked in that first two hours. I was instantly hooked. I remember my mom was really affected by the scene of Sarah on the phone. Again, so unlike anything seen on TV before. After that, I taped every episode, and those tapes got watched countless times over the years. I was thankfully able to tape the pilot episode when they repeated it in the summer.

I got both of my brothers to start watching it after that. But as far as I remember, there wasn’t much talk from other kids at school about the show, in fact that first year the only other people I knew that were watching it were my two brothers and my mom. But I remember the media hype starting. There was an article in the USA Today newspaper about the show’s popularity and the “viewing parties” that were going on. I was surprised, and excited, that it was getting so much acclaim and attention. I think people tend to think that ratings were huge the first season, but they weren’t. The pilot’s ratings were, but the remainder of the season did just so so. Many thought it was too weird, or off-putting. But the media hype and “cool factor” kept it in the mainstream. But there was a lot of talk that it may not get renewed for a second season. It was far from a sure bet.


2. The appearance of Bob in episode 1

Rami Airola: Again, I recall I saw this in the pilot the first time I saw the series. I was horrified by the sudden image. In episode 1, it was also scary to see Laura's face suddenly appearing over Donna's face. There was something very frightening in it.

Audrey Horne: Creepy, but didn't give it much thought. I know enough to know that is a big red herring.

Gabriel: Didn't exactly see him as 'BOB.' Sarah Palmer was freaky and weird anyway and this bloke Lynch was an oddball, so why wouldn't she see (what I thought was) a 'Red Indian' (different era, different ways to describe people) at the end of the sofa? I thought perhaps he was a native spirit who might be a good guy.

hopesfall: I remember [my sister] constantly telling me that Bob was a ghost, and the scene where Sarah screams at the vision of him when Donna's face changes gave me nightmares for literally weeks.

HoodedMatt: There was a raised eyebrow. I think I said something like "is that the killer? No it can't be. Is she remembering?"

Ygdrasel: Scared the hell out of me and intrigued me.

Ross: Honestly, I don’t remember exactly what I thought at that point, but I loved the bizarre, mysterious, and even horror under-pinnings. As to who that was, I don’t think I had any guess.

BOB1: Strange enough, I don't remember any reaction! But I do remember that by the time Episode 4 had its premiere, when Andy is drawing a portrait from Sarah's vision, the shadow of BOB was deep within me…


3. The Red Room dream in episode 2

Audrey Horne 9 (including the rest of episode 2): Okay, this show is great. Again, thank god I recorded and kept these. Already watched the pilot and second episode at least five times, have made friends watch them. Have a notebook with notes. This episode is amazing, there's a whorehouse?! Cooper throwing rocks?! The spooky rich girl is doing another dance?! Ha, Lucy sticking her tongue out at the new FBI jerk! Love her the most. ...wait, what the hell is this dream?! Episode over, mind blown! This show just jumped to another level. Rewatch the dream again and again. Tons of notes in my pad. Hurry up next week!

Gabriel: The papers had mentioned a backwards-talking dwarf. I'd assumed it would be some crazy person showing up in the RR. The sequence was really odd and yet funny. I wasn't sure where it would lead. A lot of it was simply strange words and myth-building that wouldn't make sense until later on.

Rami Airola: I was already horrified by the weird shaking this weird person was doing. And when he turned around, looked very weird and sounded even more weird, I was absolutely terrified, but also very interested in it. I had already a habit of watching horror movies. I was both terrified and fascinated about all kinds of scary stories. I think I was even somewhat traumatized by the scene, as for years and years I saw nightmares about the midget and very often when I closed my eyes I was too scared to open them again because I was afraid that the midget would suddenly be right in front of my face, looking and sounding all weird! :D Even though I was so young, I always knew that movies are just movies, and they are not real, but at nights the mind goes to weird places. And besides, Michael J. Anderson wasn't acting his weird appearance because that was all him. That was how he really looked like, so in theory it could've been possible that he would've had appeared in my room some night, and man that thought was scary as hell.

Ross: I remember this pretty vividly as well. I remember turning off the TV after the episode ended, and just thinking, Wow! Definitely the oddest, weirdest thing I had ever seen. But so fascinating. I think when some people go back and revisit the show they are surprised at how early that came in the run of the show. And it definitely got people talking. They might have lost some viewers, but gained more. Even if a lot of people were saying WTF, it sure had them talking. Personally, I loved the idea that it was some kind of code. And the sequence with Bob/Mike was scary, and since I have always been a horror fan, I loved those aspects of the show. It was also really cool seeing Laura.

BOB1: The dream itself made me something like "oh! how cool!" without giving it any deeper thought. However Cooper's revelation of "I know who killed..." was a real shock. And then a week later it was so WHAAAAAT?! to see that he simply doesn't remember :D

Ygrdasel: My only visual exposure to Twin Peaks, prior to watching, was a still shot from the Red Room. When the scene came up, my attention was glued. Loved every aspect of it and loved everything involving it after.

HoodedMatt: Being told that there is a dwarf who talks backwards and experiencing it are two entirely different things. I was not prepared for the beautiful absurdity that is the dream sequence.


The rest of Season 1

Audrey Horne: I love this show! On Donahue, the other guy who's not Lynch says it's coming back next Fall, yay! Laura's not dead, right? The cousin is... I saw Vertigo, I know! By now, after Audrey muscled Batis and cried while watching Leland, and smoked in the closet I am fully on the "Audrey Horne and Agent Cooper best characters ever on TV" train.

N. Needleman: I watched the show live on ABC with my mom when I was about 8 or 9, and then returned to it as a young teen when it was running on Bravo. My mother brought me in around Episode 2 or 3 and made it clear she thought Leland was the killer. She did not elaborate much as to why, but she said "his reaction was too much" re: Laura's death. I was afraid of Leo and was fascinated by Dr. Jacoby and his glasses.


4a. The season finale - the fact that Laura's killer was not revealed

Ross: I wasn’t mad at all about the killer not being revealed. But I WAS surprised. I honestly thought he would be. Not sure exactly where that expectation came from, but it was there. And a lot of people were pissed. It was really the first turning point against the show.

HoodedMatt: It didn't bother me at all that Laura's killer wasn't revealed. I'd become so caught up in all the various plots, and the fact that they all seemed to be playing into the main one at this point, that it didn't matter.

BOB1: I think it was becoming more and more obvious that the deeper we sink into the mystery, the more mysterious it gets ;) So I probably didn't expect revealing the killer.

chalfont: Don't think I expected that the killer would be revealed.

Gabriel: Never expected him/her to be.

Ygrdrasel: I never expected the killer to be revealed so it wasn't an issue. I got super hyped by all the cliffhangers though.

Audrey Horne: The killer is so obviously a "good guy" ...the Sheriff or Donna. Maybe the father. Guys quit complaining about not finding out who the killer is, the show has so much more going for it!! Okay, Nadine and Leo are dead, right? Those characters have outlasted their usefulness. Ha, love Catherine telling the sweet but dumb waitress to shut up she has a thing in her mouth. Those two will be fine. Go, Catherine, you're fantastic! Ohhhhh, my god, Audrey! How are you going to get out of this one?! Ahhhh, yes, she left a note for Cooper...


4b. The season finale - Cooper being shot.

Audrey Horne: Wait, no Cooper, noooo! Okay, no way he's dead. No way. Truman or Donna shot him. I'm fine with not knowing and spending months thinking what is going to happen. This is the best show ever!

Ross: There was a bit on the finale on some entertainment show (most likely ET?) where they were showing people’s negative reactions to the ending. I loved all the cliffhangers, and was pretty convinced that at least some of the characters would die.

chalfont: Oh no!!!!

BOB1: Cooper being shot was a blast and let us (a group of fans at school) develop a range of theories including Coop's twin brother and such stuff!

Gabriel: Someone had been watching Dallas! To be honest, it actually was a little too Grand Guignol for me. There were enough cliffhangers without one where the main character (obviously) wouldn't die. I was more concerned about Audrey, James, Shelly, Catherine and so on.

Rami Airola: Didn't do much for me. I guess I knew that the hero wasn't going to die. Also, I didn't think of it as a season finale as I recall the series just continued the next week.

HoodedMatt: I flip flopped over who shot Cooper a lot, mainly between Leland (he was wearing a black coat too) and Ben.

Ygdrasel: This was the big "I gotta see what happens" cliffhanger for me. The payoff was ultimately disappointing though. My memory's fuzzy but wasn't it basically "Josie shot Cooper because no real reason at all"?


The summer between seasons

Ross: I can’t remember the exact date, but I know the cassette(!) single of the "Twin Peaks Theme" and Julee Cruise’s "Falling" came out sometime before summer (and before the full soundtrack). People on here know how much I love the music of TP, and know my blog. So this first release was very special and I used to listen to the tape on a continuous loop.

That summer I prepared to leave for college in the fall. I hoped my brother would be able to tape all the episodes for me while I was away. I was relieved that the series was renewed, but worried about its move to the Saturday “death slot”. There was a lot of talk about that in the media over the summer. With ABC touting it as a new “must see” night. I watched the reruns of the first season that summer (even though I had them taped). I bought the Twin Peaks soundtrack on CD (the first CD I ever bought), and bought the Diary.

Audrey Horne: Best summer ever. Late September. Got me the Rolling Stone! Kyle is dating Donna Hayward? Lame. Madchen portion cool, great photo! Donna, zzzzzz. Audrey pic!! Of course she's a virgin. Thanks Rolling Stone, great article! Newsweek just told us Bob did it?! Bob, that's not even a main character! Time magazine!! Four new photos from the second season! Cooper on the floor with blood, he'll be okay. Audrey in the OEJ [One Eyed Jacks] outfit, is she hiding behind a tree escaping in the woods, awesome! Josie and Ben with wine glasses... Oh, this is going to be good. A Giant? Kyle hosting SNL. Best skit ever! Lynch going apeshit on Kyle for nonchalantly spoiling that Shelly the waitress killed Laura Palmer. MTV music awards... Sherilyn and Ontkean!! Emmys yay! Wait, Fenn is sick and not there, boo! Wait, Kyle lost, boo! Whattttt, Twin Peaks lost? Boooooo!


5. The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer - did you read it before watching season 2? Did it point you in a certain direction?

BOB1: Yes.

No. (But I never guess anything in any crime story)

I read it with unbelievable excitement.

Even more unbelievable, I still read it with equal excitement!

chalfont: No, I read it a couple of years after the show.

Ygdrasel: I bought the Diary and have yet to read it, actually. Same for the Access Guide.

rocketsan22: I read every Twin Peaks book I could get my hands on as I caught the bug badly. Heck, I even blew off a visit to the White House during a class trip to Washington as I was so engrossed in Cooper's book…

HoodedMatt: I didn't read the diary until after I'd seen the series and the movie, so I probably didn't get as attatched to it as I may have done. While I do love it as a piece of writing and think it is invaluble as an artifact detailing Laura's mental state during her ordeal, I have to say that I find some of the events don't really work for me in regard to the series. I really can't imagine either Donna (Moira Kelly or LFB) doing the whole skinny dipping thing as it's written in the book, and the whole business with Leo and Bobby doesn't really ring true to me for some reason. I think it was probably more useful to Sheryl Lee than it is essential for fans of the show & movie.

Ross: Even though the first season had ended by pissing off viewers, and it was moving to Saturdays, there was still a good buzz going into the second season, Lynch was on Time, the soundtrack was a hit, etc. I know I read the diary in those first few weeks away at school, and really wondered how Bob was going to fit into the show. I wondered how the killer could just be some guy that wasn’t one of the main characters. USA Today had a full page article on the second season premiere, and if I remember correctly, pretty much said Laura was killed by the “dream demon” Bob of the diary. And at that point I had no inkling that Bob would actually be “possessing” one of our main characters. Maybe others had that figured out, but I don’t think I had. Back to the diary, I remember really liking it, but for as many times as I’ve rewatched the series and FWWM over the years, I never went back and read the diary. Not entirely sure why. I think for me TP was so much about the visual and aural aspects, that the printed story doesn’t do as much for me.

Rami Airola: Loaned it from the library after the series had ended. I remember we were at the library with our class. I was either still on the second grade or then I was on third. Can't really remember. Anyways, kids at school knew about Twin Peaks and people knew I liked it. So when we were at the library, a girl in my class came to me and said she found a Twin Peaks book. I got very excited and loaned it immediately. I read it through very quickly. I was a good reader. I learned to read when I was 4 years old. I guess it was pretty much my first PORN book also :D It had pretty damn raunchy stuff for a kid. I remember also that later at school we all had to draw a picture of some situation in the book we loaned. I draw Bob singing the Matilda song. My teacher commented that I perhaps shouldn't be reading a book like that.

Audrey Horne: People said it came out before the second season premiere. For some reason, I bought it after the second episode, so maybe I waited a week or two. Strange since I was obsessed. So for me it was after we already had a lot of Bob and the Giant. Read it for clues. I didn't care about Laura as a person, only as a plot device. Still thought man, this girl has a lot of time on her hands to do all these things, how does she micromanage? I can barely do my math homework. Okay, the killer is Ben, Leland. I don't think it's Donna anymore. Hmmm, Ben seems kinda obvious but I guess it ties into the stars of the show with Audrey and Cooper, so that could work going forward. Leland? That would be creepy.

Gabriel: Read it in the UK break between seasons over Christmas. Fell in love with Laura Palmer. Always will be a bit in love with the character. She wasn't much older than me and I had difficulties of my own in life, particularly at school. I started to see a different world existed beyond those gates. I had wondered if Harold Smith was a code name for Harry S Truman. I assumed the JH mentioned on her list of 'partners' at the orgies was Jerry Horne. Certainly, there was a hugely dark, sinister underbelly to the town, not unlike the sex cult in Eyes Wide Shut, painted by the diary that was never really exploited in the show or the movie. And obviously the diary gave real focus to BOB.

N. Needleman: I was also devouring all the ancillary material I could find, and I remember walking into a bookstore to read Laura's Secret Diary - it's inconceivable today that that was actually a promotional tie-in book for a major network primetime series that anyone could read, but I did (and did not tell my mother). I was very young and even skimming it its content freaked me out, so I put it down and didn't look at it again for years. I could tell someone had abused Laura Palmer but I didn't know who, even though I was already wary of Leland - Ray Wise's performance had always kind of freaked me out, but I just never made the connection until the reveal. Between the episodes airing and the book I had a sense that the show was much more enchanting and interesting with these strange new things, but also was becoming much more adult and scary. And I was right.


6a. The season 2 premiere - the very long opening with the waiter

Audrey Horne: Um, after school job, I'm not feeling well I have to stay home tonight... Suckers! Okay, okay, okay, long credits, get to Cooper, and get to Audrey! Hey I remember this little old guy from The Searchers, fun! Okay, okay enough, enough... I can't take it anymore!

rocketsan22: I was hooked from the moment I heard the theme song and saw the visuals of the saw blades... I was riveted by the writing and the drawn out interaction with Cooper and Senor Droolcup.

Ygdrasel: I found this very strange. Is the waiter just crazy senile? Surely he sees there's a shot man. I enjoyed the strangeness though.

chalfont: Remember that one well. Seemed liked it lasted the entire episode!!!! Was really frustrating!!!!!

Gabriel: Arty, interesting to look at, but frustratingly paced. It had some awesome moments, but the draggy pace might well have put off some fans. Lynch seemed to be delighting in annoying the viewer, but that's not always helpful.

HoodedMatt: I loved it. Pure genius. It still makes me grin when we rewatch the episode. The juxtaposition between the bleeding to death Cooper and the semi-oblivious Senor Drool-Cup is just brilliant.

Ross: I remember the scene doing exactly what it was meant to do- make you feel antsy and anxious. It certainly didn’t make me mad or anything, and I appreciate it even more over the years. However, this is where the backlash really kicked into high gear. There was a review at the time that stated that during these scenes with the waiter “you could just hear the collective TVs of America turning the channel.”


6b. The season 2 premiere - the appearance of the giant (which certainly takes the vaguely supernatural air of the show in a new direction)

Ross: I loved the supernatural slant, in fact it's definitely part of the reason I prefer eps 9-16 even more than season 1. But it certainly added to others tuning out. I think it may have also added to the feeling that many people had that the show was going nowhere, and that Lynch & Frost were just making it all up and throwing in things that were just weird for weirdness sake. Another really strange thing was that during the original broadcast (at least in Chicago) of the Giant’s “clues”, all of his dialogue was dropped out. I think it was some sort of glitch- but my brother was convinced Lynch did it on purpose to fuck with people. I didn’t hear the scene properly until perhaps the Bravo reruns?

BOB1: Myself - I loved the waiter and giant from the first sight. But I went to school, started asking friends and... a look of :roll: unfortunately. Good thing I was just ending that school and soon after holidays I'd meet a pack of new friend who appreciated the supernatural Twin Peaks more than anything in the world!

Gabriel: Having read the diary, the supernatural element wasn't unexpected. But the Giant was. Had no idea what to make of him, but he seemed like a good guy. It's interesting that he wasn't part of the Lodge Gang in FWWM. I wondered after the series ended whether he was a White Lodge spirit, hence he only showed up in the waiting room.

N. Needleman: The introduction of more spirits to the show like the Giant did not really faze me as a kid - I think it was just instinctual for a child to assume that of course there are more "ghosts" in such a weird and wonderful place and story.

HoodedMatt: I think I did an actual double take. I wasn't sure where the sequence with the waiter was going, but I didn't expect it to go there!

rocketsan22: I didn't know what to think but I knew it was fantastic…

Rami Airola: Freaked me out.

Ygdrasel: Loved it. The Giant was in that still shot I'd already seen so his appearance was kind of an "OH MY GOD, IT'S THAT GUY!" moment XD His last line to Coop was brilliant too.

Audrey Horne: Finally, that giant. Cool, more clues... I will write them down later but let's get to One Eyed Jacks, please!


The rest of the season 2 premiere

Audrey Horne: There seemed to be a lot of long scenes in the middle at the hospital, and not as strong as the pilot, but hey it's a TV show and it's going to be a full season, no problem. Ouch, that Donna scene with James. Is Maddy finally going to reveal she is Laura? I love Pete. Yes, Albert is back! No Catherine, she's the shows best actor! Yes, finally back to OEJs. Glorious brilliant Audrey... Uh oh, she's in trouble. Awkward Hayward dinner, poor Leland. Audrey praying to Cooper... These two are magic together.

trevanian: [Rosenfield's] reaction to Ed shooting Nadine's eye out is still the biggest laugh in the whole series for me.

Ross: People often complain that TP suffered from Lynch’s absence from the series, but ironically, the turning point against the show really started with this LYNCH directed episode. (And of course Lynch was away for a lot of season one). Personally, I love the episode, and think the 2nd season premiere is certainly one of the most important episodes of the series. It sort of “resets” everything in so many interesting ways.

One more point to make is that I remember people complaining about the new still-frame “Next On” segments for season two. Saying that were another case of the show being enigmatic while showing nothing.


6c. The season 2 premiere - the violent flashback to Laura's murder, with Bob making his first sustained appearance

Ross: God I loved this scene. Still the scariest scene in TP. I remember the weird theories. There was the guy who was convinced Bob was giving Laura CPR!!! And others that thought Laura was turning into a vampire!!! (Her back teeth during her scream look a little like fangs – especially in standard def).

rocketsan22: I was scared sh!tless...I didn't know what to think. My mind was racing and I longed to fill in the pieces I had missed…

Gabriel: Great. Also, subsequently, a different view of the death scene from FWWM.

Audrey Horne:  Ronnette waking up, what the hell is this? Good lord, that is horrifying. So that Bob thing really did do it. But who is he? Leland, Ben or Truman. I think Donna was out of it for me by then.

BOB1: What I find very strange is that I don't remember any first reaction to the ending of Ep.8 at all. I think I was so preoccupied with the Giant and his prophecies that the graphic and explicit images of BOB somehow were too graphic and explicit. I'd rather see BOB but not the body ;)

Ygdrasel: I don't recall Bob appearing but the murder did seem very brutal from the flashbacks.

Rami Airola: I think I was covering my face with my hands at that point.

chalfont: Very scary!!!!

HoodedMatt: I was surprised at how far they went with the sequence given the time it was made. Seeing Bob for as long as we do was creepy as heck, too.

N. Needleman: I was terrified of BOB and would flee the scene any time he appeared, especially for Ronette Pulaski's nightmare at the close of that episode. I also was keenly aware of the weird stillness and pauses David Lynch kept adding, and they always frightened me.


7. Bob crawling over the couch in episode 9

HoodedMatt: It made my skin crawl the first time. There's a hunger in his eyes that, coupled with his primal movement, just chills the blood. Sheryl Lee's reaction as Maddy put the icing on the cake, too.

rocketsan22: One of the most memorable moments on the show…

Ross: Amazing.

Ygrasel: "Oh shit oh shit oh shit!"

Rami Airola: The absolutely most horrifying scene ever. After that I saw many many nightmares about Bob for years.

Gabriel: Terrifying. Utterly cool. I loved the show for being so funny and yet so scary. I felt like my concepts of what could be done on TV were being blown wide open. It was becoming difficult to watch much other TV in light of TP's iconoclasm.

chalfont: The most frightening moment in TV history. Need to say more??

Audrey Horne (including the rest of episode 9): Crying, crying hard. Had to work Saturday night at family restaurant. Got home by 10:30 to discover my mother had changed the channel and my precious VHS tape was now recording NBC's Carol Burnett and Friends! Frantically change channels to hear Truman tell Cooper, "Audrey Horne is missing." Noooooooooo! The television gods are cruel. Still plenty of stuff though to come... Audrey with Batis, hell yes! Leo in coma, sexy scene with Bobby and Shelly in the car, nice. What the hell is this? James, Donna and Maddy (the holy trinity of lameness) singing? Um, okay.... Wait, wait, wait... God, that is scary as hell. Okay, this Bob guy really is getting to me. More scary dream from Cooper, more Bob, owls, phone call... Audrey in the red drapes! Yes, yes, yes... Oh no. (Surely Cooper knows where she is now, right? And the killer is Ben or Leland.)


The buildup to the killer's reveal

Audrey Horne: Not even thinking too much about the killer because I think we are not going to find that out until the end of the season. Friends make me go to The Rocky Horror Picture Show on the night of the OEJs raid and all the commercials for that week show Cooper threatening Nancy. First memory of Rocky Horror Show is only God, I can't wait to get home and watch this in the middle of the night!! Three in the morning jumping up and down when Truman, Cooper and Audrey escape! (Those three together are going to run shit on this show!). What, they ARE going to reveal the killer in two weeks? Okay. Oh and by the way, Catherine is totally that Japanese man, right? Ahhh, Cooper and Audrey reunited and it feels so good. Cooper and nemesis Ben Horne, perfect. Oh, Cooper's old partner is crazy and on the loose. Okay, Peaks, we get the foreshadowing about the ex partner and Audrey. Gee, wonder who he will threaten? That should be good. Jean Renault, great villain too... Should get plenty of mileage out of him now that Leo is useless. Do we really need all these new characters? Harold, Dick (he's the worst), and back off Syd (Cooper is Audrey's). Well, surely they won't introduce more unnecessary players in this already perfect ensemble.

trevanian: Pretty much every Miguel Ferrer moment is a rewatcher - I used to leave the tape with the 'I love you Sheriff Truman' line cued up, I so love that bit.

N. Needleman: My memories are pretty sketchy after [watching the premiere and reading The Secret Diary]. I can tell you I was very frightened of Harold clawing his face a few episodes later and the way Maddy screamed.

Rami Airola: Well, the scene where we find out that Tojamura is Catherine freaked me out. It was such a shock to suddenly hear a woman's voice from a man's mouth! :D

Ross: [The killer's reveal was] the highlight of the series for me. A lot of people had jumped ship already by this time. The biggest argument people have today about the show is that it solved the Laura mystery too soon. Some of this has to do with the fact that Lynch didn’t want to. But the biggest complaint at the time was that it WASN’T giving people that answer. And a lot of people had given up on it. So prolonging it would never have helped the show back then. To me, it feels like a natural progression. And it gives us a sensational payoff. One of the most amazing things about TP is that after all the buildup, one might be afraid that any resolution would end up being a letdown, when in fact they managed to elevate the show to new heights.


Audrey Horne on all of episode 14: The reveal! Ohh, boy. This is it! And I'm watching alone. My cousin (Laura, natch) is calling me and also getting in on the last minute action. So this is the episode where Cooper is going to bring them all together and tells us and them how and who did it! Honestly, as long as it's not Audrey, I will be fine. And we can finally move on to other mysteries in this great town. Hmmm, this is really good, but we are running out of time if Cooper is going to solve this. Okay, it can't be Ben. Yes, Glorious Audrey, twist the screws to your father and give Cooper that info! And Pete and Catherine reunited, and yes it does feel so good. Thank god, Catherine is back! Oh, Christ Donna and James, shut up! Oh wait this scene is really, really good. I love this Julee Cruise music. How is Cooper going to solve this? Sarah, are you dead?! Ugh, shut up Maddy you pointless character. Wait, Leland. Oh, my god, the mirror! Ahhhhhhh. No, no, no, Maddy, you are not a pointless character! Run! Run!!! Get out of there!! Speechless. What am I watching? Crying. Stunned silence. Can't wait for next week. Completely forgot Cooper didn't solve murder. This is too good. Next week Cooper tells Audrey to lock her door! Oh my god this is going to be good. Can't wait for the rest of this season.... Can only get better!


8a. The killer's reveal in episode 14 - the fact that it was Leland

Ross: As for the Leland thing, I honestly can’t remember if I was surprised or not. I don’t think that I was really ever trying to guess the killer back then, just going along for the ride. And in the end Leland made the most sense.

Rami Airola: I recall I knew it already. It might be that people in general knew it already. Maybe it was spoiled in the magazines or something way too early.

Ygdrasel: I was spoiled on this but also found it a suitable twist as I wouldn't have expected it otherwise. It was a great reveal.

rocketsan22: I was at a dinner party which I only agreed to go to if they would let me watch Twin Peaks at 9pm... I can't say I was surprised, Leland was off the rails at that point.

HoodedMatt: I had an inkling that it might be him after he killed Jacques and the way he switched from high emotion to stone coldness when he heard someone coming, but seeing that confirmed the way it is in the episode was almost traumatic.

BOB1: [in response to the entire scene] SHOCK SHOCK SHOCK :shock::shock::shock: MORE SHOCK SHOCK SHOCK etc. I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing when Leland was standing in front of that mirror :shock:

Gabriel: My parents had friends over. I watched the show on my own in my bedroom on a 14-inch TV. I recorded it so my parents could see it right after. I knew the killer would be revealed. When I walked into the lounge after the episode, my Mum asked if I was all right. That I looked disappointed.

In myself perhaps . . .

I was psyched for the episode. I knew the killer would be revealed. I kept thinking: 'Cooper will figure it out.' At the Roadhouse: 'The Giant's going to help Cooper!'

The atmosphere as the record scratches on the turntable. Stifling . . . like a house with all the doors shut and the central heating turned too high for too many hours.

I wanted to know who the killer was. Why isn't Cooper figuring it out? It's Leland! Oh God! As if the sordid tales of abuse in the diary weren't terrible enough, it's her dad and he raped and killed his own child!


8b. The killer's reveal in episode 14 - the fact that it was also Bob

chalfont: Somehow, I think I knew a couple of weeks before….

Ygdrasel: I already knew that. Why were they investigating him all this time otherwise? Clear supernatural origin, it wasn't a shock that Bob was involved in the murder.

Rami Airola: I had taped the episode on VHS, and I watched it the morning I had to go to school. My parents were gone and I was alone. The sudden appearance of Bob and his terrifying laugh scared me greatly. I remember being afraid to be alone at home after that, so I went to school so early that no-one else was there yet. Even though it scared me, I was hugely fascinated by it.

Ross: The duality with Bob was ingenious. 

rocketsan22: I loved this aspect...that it was likely done out of Leland's control…

That was an interesting twist that part of me had been expecting since the flashback, but I wasn't sure exactly how they'd play it. To be honest, I'm still not certain if the show portrays it as a pure possession or not, despite that being Ray Wise's view point. I like the ambiguity.


8c. The killer's reveal in episode 14 - Maddy's murder (maybe the most disturbing thing I've seen in a TV show or even movie)

HoodedMatt: Totally heartbreaking.

N. Needleman: I fled and hid under a table in Episode 14 when the final sequence started with the record player skipping - I just listened to it from down the hall, which may have been worse, honestly. Maddy was my favorite character at the time so it was all pretty rough. I remember the Louis Armstrong bit early in the episode and I didn't know who the killer was, but the goodbye scene with Leland and Sarah had me ill at ease and I had a sinking feeling Maddy wasn't going anywhere. My dazed mom had to recap it all.

HoodedMatt: I'd grown to like Maddy a lot and to see Leland & Bob imperfectly recreating their murder of Laura was frightening. Again, I was shocked at just how much they got away with in that sequence. Like the flashback (or, as I take it, Ronnette's imperfect memory) of Laura's murder, they really pushed the envelope. About halfway through it I realised that they had had to shoot the whole thing twice, with Leland and Bob killing Maddy, and my level of respect for Sheryl Lee went up so much.

rocketsan22: The dinner party people were confused as hell...I loved it...and couldn't fathom how I was going to get through the next week.

trevanian: Just drove me up the wall. I had really been expecting a very traditional melodramatic resolution; in fact, ever since seeing the falls outside the hotel, I thought Cooper and BOB would probably tangle and go off the falls together a la Holmes' original death with Moriarty. Also when it did start up, I thought Leland would throw off the mantle of BOB before killing her. So I was practically kicking the TV set in as it went down. My longtime girlfriend and I were in the final stages, but had been watching the show together up till that point, and she didn't come home in time from an outing to watch that episode, so I was very angry about that too.

Rami Airola: I remember explaining to my friend what I had just seen on Twin Peaks. We were together at the toilet room and I showed how Maddy was cornered and how Bob was showing the "come on" gesture with his hands. For some reason that detail was totally terrifying, and I still find it one of the best little details in the series. It makes Bob even more menacing.

Ross: Still amazed that Maddy’s murder made it through the censors.

Ygdrasel: Her murder was very disturbing. It was that scene that made the "Bob's possessing him" stuff click.

Gabriel: I wanted to know the secret, but not like that. Cooper doesn't rescue Maddy. She gets beaten to death in front of me. I hadn't seen Blue Velvet at that stage, but it was a Jeffrey hiding in the wardrobe moment. I'd confronted the good guys losing in TV shows down the years, notably Blake's Seven, but not to see Cooper burst through the Palmers' front door, Truman and Hawk in tow . . .

. . . the good guys failed, the town's epic mystery was a domestic tragedy and I'd sat there as a voyeur and watched a young woman beaten to death in order to sate my appetite for an answer to a mystery.

As a teenager, all this hit me on an emotional and psychological level I'd never really experienced. I felt shaken and just . . . different. The series had a darker hue, closer to the diary at that point. The show actually grew up (or maybe I did) with that episode, but it could never quite manage the quirky joie de vivre it had before without seeming superficial. Wonderful television.


Audrey Horne on episode 15: Okay, nice follow up to the reveal of the murderer. Leland is nuts! Ray is crushing it! More new characters? No, not now, guys. Now that Ben is not the killer, I can bask in the brilliance of the Horne Brothers. Okay this is a filler episode, but that Cooper/Audrey scene was pretty good... Where are her saddle shoes?! Maddy in plastic, genius. What, two weeks for the next episode?! That is bullshit!

Thanks, Entertainment Weekly, for showing a picture of Leland freaking out in a interrogation room with blood on his head, and for saying the next episode will have wake! You suck.


9. The way the discovery & capture of Leland/Bob is handled in episode 16

Audrey Horne: Who's directing this? A little heavy handed guys. It's okay, it's okay. Get to the Audrey scene. What, there isn't one? Yes, Cooper is gathering people at the Roadhouse! Have all my notes on how the murder was done, Cooper is so smart! ....ummmmmm, almost a year for that? All those clues and brilliant writing for that?! Laura whispers the killer in his ear?! Cooper, you are the worst detective ever! And thanks for coming, Bobby, Hank, Leo, Ben, Major. You can go home now. Ray, beautiful work dying. You will be missed. Not sure about juxtaposing Dick, Andy and Lucy with it. Um, is that a computer generated owl in a junk yard? Please don't do that again, Twin Peaks. It doesn't suit you.

BOB1: Here I'd love to disagree with both the honourable creator of this thread and the honourable main contributor to this thread :) Ep.16 was for me from the first time - pure perfection. And the roadhouse scene - brilliant. The interrogation scene - mesmerizing. Leland's confession and Cooper's speech with water sprinkling and Laura Palmer's Theme playing - best ever.

Rami Airola: At this point, every single thing that was dealing with Bob was hyper fascinating to me. I remember thinking that if a person with Bob inside him touches water, it makes Bob leave. :D

Ross: For years this was my favorite episode. I still like it quite a lot, but I’d put the Lynch episodes ahead of it. I understand the complaints that it wraps up things too quick though.

Ygdrasel: The discovery seemed nonsensical. They just gather and suddenly the Giant decides to quit holding out info. The execution of the capture was wonderful.

HoodedMatt: I'm torn on this. On the one hand, I find it too on the nose and corny - the bit with the waiter, Leland and the gum is possibly the worst moment of that sequence for me - but at the same time it does kind of work. I do wish they had waited until the end of the season before capturing Leland, though. I would have liked to have seen Leland/Bob and Windom Earle taxing Coop, Harry and the gang and working at cross purposes for a time.

Gabriel: Too easy. The characters make their minds up that they'll catch the killer, so they just catch him.

It's as if, had they had that determination in the pilot, they'd have caught him right away. Leland's capture doesn't feel earned anymore. Beautiful, emotional death scene though and the storm feels as if it's lifted.

rocketsan22: This episode made me a fan of Ray Wise. This episode...and the scene a few back when he admits to killing Jacques Renault...are riveting to watch. It was the pain Ray Wise was able to make me believe that kept me transfixed on the show throughout its run.


10. Leland's wake in episode 17, with the comic subplots emerging and the writers trying to move past the mystery

HoodedMatt: Worst idea in the show. Sarah gets brushed off, nobody reacts to the reveal and it feels almost like another show altogether.

BOB1: How EMBARASSING!! How can Twin Peaks be so stupid. My family who had been watching me and my growing fascination for the past weeks now must be looking at me and secretly mocking me... that twin peaks of his is sort of dumb, ain't it?... Oooh.

Ross: I think the thing that disappointed me the most was the fast forward of the three days. I understand it though- they wanted to move past it. But there are things I would have loved to see. How did Sarah react? What exactly did Ronette see? Just Bob as in her vision? Or Leland in real life & Bob in her vision? Or Bob AND Leland?? And most of all, I did feel a bit cheated that we didn’t get to see Donna react to the news. After all, pretty much every scene with her in the series up until then was her trying to figure out who killed Laura and then to find out it was Laura’s own dad, whom she had just had that harrowing & bizarre interaction with…

But I actually still love the series post-Laura. Actually, my complaint with the second half of the series has always been about what we DIDN’T see rather that what was there, most of which I still like quite a bit. Lynch complains that the Laura story was forced out. But just because they solved the murder didn’t mean it had to end. They could have kept Sarah in the story. Had Donna visit Ronette. Etc. Better leading to the Black Lodge story.

Rami Airola: I just remember Sarah talking about a man with dirty grey hair. That alone got me pumped enough to watch this and following episodes.

rocketsan22: Thought the whole episode felt rushed. Still do…

Gabriel: Massive fail. The comedy feels false after the emotional tone of the last few episodes. Cooper needed to return to Seattle for a while. Laura's death and the revelations about Leland should have led to shockwaves across the community. The 'Eyes Wide Shut' cult from the diary should have started mopping up people who knew Laura in the event worse things in the town get exposed.

Audrey Horne: My friends the next day.... " it's all fluff!" Me... " shut up!" But seriously though, what happened? Remember the town in the pilot that grieved when the homecoming queen died? Well, another pillar of the community died violently. Do they think they are attending a wake/funeral of a father that raped and murdered his child?! La la la good potato salad. Or were they informed no, no it was a supernatural spirit that jumped into his body? And in that case, it's still la la la good potato salad. Corkscrew!!!! Good lord, that is worse than the computer owl in the last episode. Not to worry, Audrey and Cooper will take us out of this mess. Or kinda. Cooper sets up the rest of the season for the Audrey/Cooper/Crazy Partner Plot and rebuffs Audrey. Basically, see you for May/end of the season Sweeps, Audrey. Time to give the other actors a plot for the off winter months. I've watched Cheers and Moonlighting, I know how the romantic leads work on this "will they or won't they" machine. Ah, and Cooper is out of the FBI... Perfect way to keep him in town. Okay, a couple of lackluster episodes but it will be fine. After all, they have to do a whole season this time.

Ygdrasel: I enjoyed the plots at the time. Mostly. There wasn't much payoff though. Still wholeheartedly love everything Dale/Briggs/Windom related.


11. The realization that the Cooper-Audrey storyline was not going to play out

Audrey Horne: Never realized it until much, much, much too late. They were prominent for September and November. Network sweeps time. Burn off James, Nadine, Norma and Ed in the TV lull months. Wait, Audrey's falling for Bobby? Aha, not so fast, she's only doing that to get info to save Cooper. Glorious Audrey! She knows what she wants and isn't going to give it up for anyone other than Cooper. Hmmm, why is she helping her father, don't let them make up, that's no fun. Where are the saddle shoes, man! February sweeps mostly Josie? James?! Okay, okay that's done. Windom Earle playing with cards of production photos from Twin Peaks?! That's just lazy now! Aha! Windom has selected Audrey as the target, and planted the mask of old First flame Audrey in Cooper's bed! Nice recall of when she put the OEJs mask on too. Finally we are back on track! Wait, Shelly and Donna also get notes from Earle? Um, okay but that seems like a lot of red herrings, we know he's going after Audrey because of Cooper, right? Huh, why are they introducing another fake out guy for Audrey? We already have the crazy ex partner plot. Is she falling for him? Fine, whatever... We need conflict. But it seems it's been awhile since we've had a Coop/Audrey scene. And that guy in the cowboy suit is probably bad news anyway.

Ygdrasel: Agitation and anger. Pure and simple. "Who's Annie? Audrey's hotter."

HoodedMatt: Disappointed. They should have stayed friends and then grown to become more as the series went on. Probably by series three or four. Alas, it wasn't to be.

Gabriel: It just fizzled out without me really noticing. I suddenly realised the characters had hardly any scenes together. A shame. Cooper's old nemesis is after Audrey and he hardly blinks. Odd.

BOB1: It was quite unimportant for me at that time.

Rami Airola: Didn't much care about this subplot at that age.

rocketsan22: I was glad Cooper stuck to his morals. 

Ross: Of all the questions and complaints about the show, this is the one I least identify with. Don’t get me wrong- I love Audrey, and there was crazy good chemistry between them. But I never ONCE thought they would actually go through with a romance where Cooper reciprocated and actually had sex with a high school student. It just never entered my mind as something they would do, or something that I wanted to happen. So I was pretty surprised to learn years later that that was actually what was planned! And that so many fans actually wanted that to happen.

For me, I just don’t believe Cooper would betray his inner code of conduct like that. Almost any other character I would believe. But not Cooper. I would have been all for them continuing the flirtation as it was, but that wasn’t the plan, and that’s not what Kyle objected to (or claimed to object to depending on whose side of the story you believe). I think it's important to remember that.

I will say, though, that one of the bigger mistakes the show made was dropping their interaction once they decided a romance wouldn’t happen. I would have liked their friendship & mentoring to continue, and maybe see Audrey’s reaction to Annie. But their reduced interaction didn’t seem unnatural at the time, as Cooper’s investigation was over and Audrey was dealing with her dad.


12. The stretch of episodes 17-23 (you know the ones)

Ygdrasel: I don't know the ones offhand, actually. My "The show's gone downhill" moment held off until the episodes that decided James needed to travel and we had to be there with him.

Gabriel: A waste of time. At the time they seemed less bad because I couldn't see the story in overview. So I stuck with it. The hope was that it would pick up after a lull. The James/Evelyn plotline seemed like a reject from a Zalman King film of the era.

HoodedMatt: I'm not as down on them as many people seem to be, but they are the worst episodes of the show. There are some diamonds in the rough, but they are mostly moments rather than stories. I do love how Andy and Dick become awkward friends over the Little Nicky thing, even if the kid himself is a little irritating (and the thought bubble is facepalm material). The least said about Evelyn Marsh, the better.

Rami Airola: Waited for Bob or some other terrifying stuff to appear. It was ok. The only subplot I really didn't care about at all was all the mill stuff with Catherine.

rocketsan22: I'm currently watching them again for the umpteenth time. Struggling to get through them. I always fast forward through the Civil War crap, it's too much to take. There must be something that drew me back in originally because...man is this stretch of episodes...bad…

Ross: See my answer for number 10. But I still do like quite a lot of what IS actually in these episodes. One point to make here is that since there was no internet back then, I lived with only my own ideas and opinions for most of the years. Even when Wrapped In Plastic came along, their (mostly positive) opinions on these episodes were close to mine. It wasn’t until much much later that I found out how much disdain there was for these. I was actually quite surprised to learn [about it]. I never even hated the Evelyn story. Granted, it's slight, but it's still done with style and some really great music.

I do remember my one brother asking where the series was going during these episodes though, and he didn’t return to watch it when it later returned from hiatus.

In some bizarre way, the more unfocused feel of these episodes makes sense, as in life after getting the answer to something you were so focused on.

Highlights for me include:

-Ben & his home movies

-The tape “Hobgoblins” message from Earle (one of the best written & delivered speeches in the whole run)

-Michael Parks

-The whole ending of ep 20: Dead Dog Farm, Leo, the vagrant’s body.

-Earle’s intro

I was really bummed when I read in the USA Today that the series was going on hiatus.

BOB1: Now like I wrote above, I went to a new school and was lucky to meet a bunch of Twin Freaks. And that was at the time of that "stretch", say starting around Ep.19 which was definitely after the beginning of the schoolyear. So for me it was no stretch - every episode we would record, rewatch, rediscuss... on and on and on... perhaps that is why I still like those episodes :D

And then BOB's reappearance on Josie's death bed made me crazy with excitement as pointless as it actually is ;) I even have a proof written: at this time I was writing a diary for my mom who was away for 2 months. It says something like: "and now the most important news of the week: BOB is back, hooray!", he he.

Audrey Horne: Hmmm, no one is watching this with me anymore. No one saw last night's episode? I'm only rewatching an episode maybe once or twice. Little Nicky? C'mon! Did you really just put another bad special effect in this show? Was that a thought bubble on Andy's head?! Huh, Lana is the most captivating woman in this world? Have you guys paid attention to the press over the past year? You know you have Fenn, Amick, Chen, Lee on this show, right? This Evelyn Marsh plot is really, really, really dumb... And I'm a stupid teenager. This white lodge, black lodge stuff is hokey. Knock it off. Really, Jean Renault? You're going to let a waitress in and get taken in by her shapely leg? Remember when it was months since the last time we saw Mike Nelson? Well he's back, yet Audrey is only getting that one scene in Ben's office?! Yes, Thomas Eckhardt and Andrew Packard, this should be good. Oh, never mind. What ever happened to One Eyed Jacks? Josie shot Cooper because he came here? Dick Tremayne, you should be on another show, pal. What the hell ever happened to Sylvia Horne? Oh there's Johnny. Thank god Leo is out of that coma. This should get good. Never mind. It that another special effect with Cooper's First Audrey as a thought bubble? Wait is that Evelyn Marsh? Fuzzy VHS tape! Evelyn was Caroline?! Nadine and Mike are the highlight? Nadine kicking Hank's ass, fun! Peggy Lipton is the most patient person ever... Has she been allowed one decent plot line yet?! Even her bad review and mom from hell came as an almost tag on scene. Okay, okay, now that Ben is back, Earle got the note to Audrey, and Cooper solved who shot him we can move on to the fun!

...what the hell? hiatus?! Josie in a doorknob?! This show better come back!


13. Where you felt the show picking up again

Ross: For me the show always fell distinctly into four parts: Season 1, Episodes 8-16, Episodes 17-23, and Episodes 24-29. I really love the last six episodes, and enjoy them just about as much as any other span of episodes. I feel like most of the characters are at their most appealing here. I think Welsh is fantastic, and I think everything ramps up towards the conclusion. And then there’s Annie. I fell in love with that character just as quickly as Cooper did. To me, she was exactly the kind of person I would see him with. Kind, gentle, guarded and yet open, wounded and yet happy. Everything worked for me, and every scene they are in together is a series highlight for me.

trevanian: I think the show started winning me back even during the worst run of shows, because I was absolutely fascinated by the whole lodge idea (Frost's version of it, anyway - Lynch's is visually appealing but not intellectually satisfying, not that he is going to lose any sleep over that complaint from me), and I knew I was going to hang in till the end just to see how that played out (though the end of the series was nearly 'Maddy dies' in the level of feeling infuriated.)

For me, the joys associated with Annie and Heisenberg really elevate the final batch.

Ygdrasel: It's been a while so I can't say where things 'picked up' again. Maybe when James and Donna stopped being a focus.

Rami Airola: Didn't think about things like that at that age.

rocketsan22: Windom Earle for sure…

HoodedMatt: Not until the final three or four episodes. I'm an Annie fan and her whirlwind romance with Cooper warmed my heart - Annie's insecurities really spoke to my own and I loved how she seemed to lose them when she was around Coop - and I really like the stuff with Windom Earle in disguise and the Angels thing.

Gabriel: Towards the end, although I never really bought into the Windom Earle storyline as played out. Silly disguises, the cabin in the woods . . . he was a bit like a villain from the 1960s Batman series. The bit with the white face, red eyes and black teeth was great though, but never picked up on again. Twin Peaks had developed a reputation for doing something randomly odd/quirky/sinister, but it seemed only for the 'What the Hell?' of it, without real purpose. I still loved the show all the way through, but I loved it the way I love the second and third Indiana Jones films. I love the Laura Palmer saga the way I love Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Audrey Horne: Yes, yes, yes. The last six episodes are coming back! Please get it together because I want it to continue. Oh god, what will happen in a few years when I have to go off to college? I hope I have a VCR and a TV so I can continue recording. Recap by Cooper. Nice. Ugh, there's that guy with Audrey again. I did love him as a psycho in Dead Calm, though. I'm sure he's a psycho in this too. Wait did they just show a clip of Cooper with some skank on a boat? Whatever. The episode is back and I am happy. ...45 mins later. What the hell was that?! Little pine weasel? Audrey locking lips with the psycho Dead Calm guy? Did she say there's no one in regards to Cooper when DC guy was crooning to her? Wait, another fake out love interest and now this one for Cooper?! Oh she was in that Cory Haim/Cory Feldman License to Drive movie. And she died in the Drugstore Cowboy movie. Well, she better do the same here and get off this show! Wait, hold the phone, Norma of the wasted plot line has a sister?! James Marshall, Joan Chen and Ray Wise are off the show. It's a little sad that it is changing and they are bringing in more lame characters. This chess plot is going nowhere. Yikes, Crazy Ex Partner's disguises are the worst! Hmmm, nice to see Dr. Jacoby again, wish he was still creepy. I guess they have nothing for Dana Ashbrook to do. Didn't he kill someone in the pilot? What happened to the Bookhouse Boys?

Oh good Christ, Ben is obviously Donna's father. Whip de doo! Lame. Hey, whatever happened to Audrey knowing Ben and Catherine were burning down the mill? Man, has it really been over three months since there's been an Audrey/Cooper scene? No matter they will have plenty coming up. Yes, Ben and Catherine together, more of this please. What is with that sweater/Dead Calm guy? Yay, Cooper is back in the suit! What, what, what, what?! Diner, Cooper telling a joke to License to Drive girl. Sweet music. Truman asking how long he's been in love with her?! I waited almost a year for that line to be used elsewhere and you guys are wasting it on this? Are those tears streaming down my face? Owl Cave, ah this should be good. ...never mind. Miss Twin Peaks contest is coming? Um, the Twin Peaks of April 1990 would never stoop this low. Oh yay, the Crazy Ex Partner is now making giant papier mâché chess pieces and somehow going unnoticed lugging it up to gazebos with dead bodies inside. Again, the Twin Peaks of 1990 would never stoop so low. What the hell is next, a zebra costume? ...wait, I spoke too soon.

Ahhhh, yes Cooper is having a nice fireside chat with Dead Calm guy. As soon as he Cooper leaves, I'm sure DC guy will meet up with License to Drive Jennings Yoko Ono and reveal their dastardly plot. Why else would they be there? Ahhhh, remember being excited when I read in Rolling Stone magazine that Audrey is a virgin and won't compromise. That should pay off beautifully later on. Um.... Again, never mind. But we do get the one bright spot... Audrey hanging out with Pete. Already these two have great friend chemistry and if only it had happened earlier. Oscar and Emmy and Golden Globe nominated Piper Laurie gets to wear bulky coats and fiddle with a box within a box within a box. Remember when she told Shelly to shut up, "I'm thinking." Donna, pass the peas, please!

Okay, I would like the ending to this with the red room finally coming back in that pond and Bob's scary hand, and oh shit was that the high school hallway?! But it is thwarted with Audrey deflowered by the wrong, wrong guy, Cooper kissing THAT GIRL, and the Giant warning him. I can only take solace in hoping that the Giant is warning him that the whole show and story has gone horribly, horribly wrong. Yay, Lucy's voice comes on at the end to tell us they are wrapping this up in June. Surely they can fix this mess. ...never mind. They are pulling the last two episodes and burning them off after May Sweeps. Ah, only a few short months ago I was looking forward to the end of the season with the Cooper/Earle/Audrey plot. So naive.


14. The finale (and I know it was a 2-parter in '90 but I'm particularly keen to hear how the Lynch half played)

N. Needleman: [The week after the killer's reveal] I tried to rally and come back, but during a commercial break in China Beach, which my mother loved, they showed some promo which had that clip from Episode 14 with BOB laughing in the mirror like an animatronic puppet. That's still incredibly scary to me, and when I saw that I ran to my bedroom and stayed there for most of the remainder of Season 2. ;) I saw episodes here and there, bits and pieces but it's mostly impressions. My poor mother then was faced with the task of explaining the series finale to me, which was a real narrative, I can tell you. I think she thought the Red Room was "a carnival tent." She was very precise on the details though.

chalfont: I was home alone (my childhood home was a house in the woods....) and was too scared to watch it live at night. (I saw the opening credits, and there I saw Ray Wise was on on the list and that was it for me... :-D ) Had to tape it and watch it the next morning. Actually, I think I was home alone for the pilot too…

rocketsan22: Bittersweet as by this time I had a very deep connection to the show, and before this, only Star Wars had ever captivated me enough to invest emotionally in fictional characters. In writing this today, I liken my appreciation to Twin Peaks to the same reason that Lord Of The Flies or the writings of W.P. Kinsella hold true to me to this day...wonderful characters woven together with the most beautiful scenery.

Audrey Horne: Okay, it has been about a month and a half. Peaks has become a punching bag for critics, an afterthought for most viewers... Is that still on? Long gone is the glory of doughnuts, dancing dwarfs, saddle shoes, the cherry twist, Angelo's music on the radio. I have only one friend that will even come over and watch this as... shudder, the Monday movie of the week. If you knew what they put on for the other Monday Movie of the Week, you'll know just how low this has fallen. Yet, I am still clinging. Maybe we will be surprised. Dugpas, Jupiter and Saturn meet... What the hell are they talking about? Annie and Shelly mention Laura Palmer to Norma. Was she from the same show? Nice try, guys. In the funniest unintentional moment, deflowered Audrey tells her father she hopes, "it doesn't hurt this much in a week." The hilarity of Miss Twin Peaks practice. I turn to my friend and actually apologize. Then the real kicker, Annie (I can say her name now since it's been a few months) and Cooper talk about trees and planting in their underwear. Seeing Cooper in action and using his subtle metaphors, I rethink the past year. Maybe it was better that Audrey got out of this mess. But then the piece de resistance! Brilliant Crazy Ex Partner guy truly destroys anything left holy and pure from the pilot in his Log Lady costume. If the billowing smoke from a log cabin, the untended owl cave, the papier mâché body weren't enough for the law enforcement, this is the end all be all for Cooper is the Worst Detective Ever! I can only turn to my friend and pat them on the knee and apologize again. We also threw popcorn at the Annie/Cooper bedding scene.

Waitaminute! Another hour? And it's directed by Lynch?! Good luck, David. You'll have your work cut out for you and this shitstorm.

Hmmm, Andy and Lucy in a sweet, simple scene. That was good. Hmmm, the tone is different. Cooper in the Sheriff's office. Hmmm, that was good, that was dark and interesting. Ronnette! Hey this is getting pretty good. I sit up, the music is working, the mood is changing... Could Peaks be back?!

BOB1: one of the most exciting moments of my life. For the record: in Poland Ep.28 was screened normally, a week earlier, and then there was this last week... hell, the TV programme says it's gonna be just 45 minutes. How is it possible to end such a plotline in 45 minutes? And then... directed by David Lynch... my heart's going up my throat, the pulse is getting wild, yes! it's gonna be SOMETHING, I know it. And then... under the sycamore trees....

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! This! It is THIS. This floor, these curtains, this little man. It felt whole and it was.

Rami Airola: Taped it on VHS and watched many many times. After this I was a Twin Peaks and David Lynch fan for life. I was into horror, but nothing else really was quite like that.

Ygdrasel: The finale was brilliance.

HoodedMatt: The true return to form for the show. Lynch brought the quality right back up to season one heights and I loved all the little call backs he did and was so happy to see Sarah Palmer again after so long away. The ending left me stunned. A real jaw-dropper of a moment. I love just how much Kyle commits to the "how's Annie?" moment.

Gabriel: It wasn't a two parter in the UK (not that I remember!). The first half of the episode is stylistically back in season two, episode one territory: dragging out scenes to annoy the viewer. The bit in the bank was particularly irritating for me that evening. The point of the episode seemed to me to be about Cooper. The fact that I knew it was the last episode and they were throwing in loads of cliffhangers with the characters made me nervous. I suddenly thought 'Don't be predictable and trap Cooper in the lodge or have BOB take over Cooper!'

So I loved the artistic, horror aspects of the episode, loathed the cliffhangers. To this day, I've never considered it 'The End.' It was an end-of-season cliffhanger that wasn't resolved. If Lynch does a bunch of cliffhangers at the end of the new season with no sign of resolving them, I swear I'll chuck my TV out the f***ing window and never watch any TV show again!!

Ross: I was so sad that TP was coming to an end. And going out with no fanfare (and another hiatus!) I still remember seeing the brief commercial for the finale (which isn’t on the blu ray).

I was impressed with it at the time, and my love for it only grew more over time. The first thing I noticed about it was the soundtrack. “Dark Mood Woods” was amazing and instantly created a mood unique to this episode. I loved that Cooper finally entered his dream world. I loved seeing Sarah, Ronette, Laura, Maddy & Leland again. I was pretty shocked by the ending. And was pretty upset that that might be the end.

As for the other stories, Norma/Big Ed & Nadine came full circle. I never thought Ben was dead. But I did think Audrey, Andrew & Pete were dead. I was very surprised about Audrey until I heard that she would have survived.

I remember watching the pilot again soon after and realizing the Bobby/Shelly/Heidi bit was repeated and thinking how cool that was.

At the time there was talk that another network, or even first run syndication might continue the series. But I don’t know if those avenues were even pursued. The backlash was so bad at the time that I don’t think anyone wanted to touch it. Fox had said they would have picked it up if it was cancelled after season one, but I guess they had no interest by this time. I remember the letters to TV Guide about the finale were NOT kind.

Of course Lynch then decided to do a movie…


15. Fire Walk With Me

rocketsan22: By this point I would have taken ANYTHING new Twin Peaks related. I must have seen the movie six or seven times in the theatre as it showed at one of the artsy theatres in Montreal where I was going to school. I'm pretty sure I snuck in a pocket tape recorder so that I could relive the story at home.

Ross: Since my love for TP never wavered, I was excited beyond belief to see FWWM. I was initially disappointed to hear it was a prequel. But there was the promise of more to come, and I hoped there were going to be hints of that in the film. There was so little written about it beforehand, with no internet. It wasn’t until close to it coming out that I learned LFB had been replaced. That really bummed me out, and I had no idea she, Kyle, & Fenn were all jumping on the anti-Peaks bandwagon.

I saw it opening night while away at school (taking a summer class). It was actually pretty packed being a college town. The next weekend I saw it with my brother while back home. I think there were two other people in the whole theater(!). I did manage to see it a third time during its short run.

I actually loved the film from the beginning, and never really understood the criticism. In fact, the absolute hatred from critics was really disheartening at the time. I remember when I found the Video Watchdog issue on the film, and finally saw there was SOMEONE else who loved it!

I was surprised to see so many characters left out- mostly because I had heard they WERE in the movie. I had read interviews/articles with Ontkean, Chen & others saying they had filmed scenes. So I kept waiting for them to appear. It wasn’t until later that I learned they had all been cut.

Other than that disappointment, my only complaints with FWWM were always the cosmetic things. WHY did they use a different house? Why didn’t they throw a wig on Norma? Etc. Etc. I wanted it to visually match the series. But the movie itself I’ve always loved.

BOB1: I was flabbergasted and delighted and all, and I went to see it in the cinema once again (you can imagine that it was no hit so must have stayed on screens for a rather short time) - inviting for this experience the girl I was in love with all through high school. The situation between us was rather clear. She knew I loved her, she never pretended to share my feelings but we were good friends and spent quite a lot of time together. It was also clear that I am a huge Peaks-fan even though it had been a long time since the show's end. She used to watch it, too, of course, but like a regular viewer, not a freak ;) Well anyway, I told her there was this Twin Peaks feature film and I loved it so let's go and see. So we went. Well we never really got to talk about it too much. It seemed she was taken aback. I remember one thing she said right afterwards: wow, she said, that doesn't look like a film I wanna see ever again in my life. But it didn't have to mean "I hated it." I don't suppose I want to see Trainspotting ever again and still I find it to be a masterpiece. I can very well understand that FWWM can be so emotionally shocking and morally challenging that it is hardly bearable. Personally I did not have this problem. It's the film by Lynch that I've watched the most times I suppose :)

Gabriel: Saw it day one of its UK nationwide release. It's a terrific film and, for all it doesn't have a lot of the regular cast, it fits stylistically with the show up to the point where Maddy is killed. I was watching a lot of Lynch and other arthouse directors at the time thanks to Sky Movies and to UK video distributor Palace Pictures going bust, meaning a lot of VHSes were selling plentifully and cheaply. I loved the film and wanted more. The same addiction to the show I had up to the killer reveal returned. And I hoped for a long time that, in spite of a bunch of snobby French film critics and the Ciby 2000 fallout, that there would be more.

Rami Airola: It was shown on television in early 1995. I taped it and watched it through on a daily basis for quite a long time. I think that after a few years I had already seen it more than 30 times. Back then it was the best movie I had ever seen, and it still is.

hopesfall: It took me until way into my late teens before I got round to seeing FWWM and reading Cooper's autopbiographical book. I loved the book but didn't like the film at all. I actually only started to appreciate the film years later, and now absolutely adore it and class it as one of my favourites of all time.

Ygdrasel: The very first viewing was done amid a general "This can't be as bad as Wikipedia said..." mindset and also much distraction and pausing. Due to said distraction and fragmented viewing, I was left with little coherent memory of events, general confusion at what I'd watched, but a deep intrigue and desire to see it again.

BlackMoonLilith: Fire Walk with Me is an interesting case. I loved it when I first saw it and love it now... but for very different reasons. When the show took that infamous mid-S2 turn, I was hanging on by my fingernails to the mythology as something to look forward to. I think Lynch's last episode fulfilled my hopes that it'd be a way to save the show, but even more than that, I thought the film was an absolutely satisfying and complete experience to someone who was interested in BOB/MIKE/Red Room and wanted answers. We often hear that Lynch's work "doesn't make any sense," but I completely disagree. His vision has such a unity to it that even though I may not able to use words to explain to you what exactly happened in Scene X or Scene Y, it DOES make sense on an emotional level. I think a lot of his critics even realize this, but then overthink it; Eraserhead is a good example of a film that I think almost everyone "gets" in terms of what's Henry's going through, on romantic, parental, and existential levels, and then assume they didn't get the film because they don't have a rational explanation why the chickens twitched and squirted blood/vomit/goo.

All of which is to say that while I may not have known exactly what MIKE was talking about when he mentions a "formica table top," I got that this was a connection between him and the Little Man, even before he places his hand on Gerard's stump. I didn't know why the left arm went numb, but I knew that it linked Laura and Teresa's experiences and lives and their connection to both the supernatural and Leland. Once MIKE asked for the garmonbozia and the subtitles revealed their meaning, the whole context of BOB and MIKE and their role within the town suddenly makes sense: BOB horded Leland and Laura's grief and suffering, MIKE wedded him to the ring and gave Laura a chance to die, thus allowing the grief to be spread more evenly out across the town (as we see in the pilot). For the humans, it's incomprehensible cruelty and misery, but it's only currency or maybe even a drug to beings who don't have our morality. I thought this was a more than satisfactory conclusion to what was set up by Episode 2's dream as well as Frost's late S2 stuff. I felt like the mythology was wrapped up in a nice little bow, even if I couldn't tell you how Lynch tied the knot.

The funny part about it is I failed in terms of instinctively grasping the story Lynch actually wanted to tell. Laura's own story didn't really get me that much. LostInTheMovies has talked about how it wasn't until rewatches that he realized the power in 2x01's final scene and Maddy's death, but I can honestly say the film was that with me too. Perhaps it was the Deer Meadow section, perhaps it was watching it at work on a laptop with headphones, but I was distant from Laura. I have no idea how now, as everything after "Who knows where or when CLICK" is drowning in Laura's perspective, but it was still more of a "finale" to the mythology to me, than an exploration of sexual abuse. Along the same lines, it wasn't until I was discussing the film with a friend did I realize all the stuff that suggested Leland wasn't an innocent. I mean, it's clear as day now, but at the time, I had just taken Episode 16 on its word and viewed all the creepy dad and Teresa stuff as that evil spirit indulging in an innocent man's body. It took me the second or maybe even third rewatch to really get the film on this human level, which is weird cause I feel like more people connect with the human stuff and THEN the supernatural, but for me it was the other way around. I still love and am fascinated by not just the mythology of TP in general, but the mythology of FWWM which I think is some of Lynch's strongest "weird stuff," but I more prefer the film now as the broken life and eventual redemption of this endlessly fascinating character, given one of the two best performances from an actress I've ever seen in a film along with Megumi Ogata in The End of Evangelion (another franchise that has me hooked on both the complicated mythos and the raw humanity).

But at the time, it was all "Of course! The Little Man is MIKE's arm! The Little Man IS MIKE!"

HoodedMatt: Loved it, in spite of and because of its darker tone. The Chet Desmond and Deer Meadow part was a little disconcerting at first, but I got into it as soon as they hit the airport and saw Lil. The FBI sequence was a surprise, in part because of David Bowie and in part because of the Convenience Store footage. By the time we hit Twin Peaks itself, naturally, I did miss some of the series characters who weren't there - Lucy & Andy the most - but it felt right that we stayed with Laura and her ordeal. The ending felt like it was the perfect way to end the story - not totally closed or tied up, but Laura was free from her torments and looked truly happy. I cried when she broke out into that beautiful smile in the Red Room while Cooper stood behind her.

Nightsea: I've gone back and forth over whether or not I should post this. I've been a visitor to these discussion boards for a while, but didn't join until recently. But one of the main reasons as to why I joined is to be able to respond to the Fire Walk With Me aspect of this thread. There's no need for me to delve too far into this, nor would I, but I know what it's like to be abused at a young age. Essentially I knew nothing about Twin Peaks or David Lynch when this film was originally released. I was all of fourteen years old. I'd recently been through a terrible, terrible ordeal with a sexual predator. My father was absolutely horrible. So to say the least, I identified with Laura. On my first viewing of the film, I found the last twenty minutes or so incredibly difficult to endure. By the end of the film- the scene with the angel- it was as if a floodgate had been opened and I couldn't stop crying. Laura felt such relief in that final scene- to no longer be abused. I understood the relief that she felt. Over the years, I've gotten to the point where I can watch those last few scenes without falling apart emotionally.

I went on to discover Lynch's other work. I found out that he had directed The Elephant Man, which I loved. My mother purchased a box set of the original Twin Peaks series for me on VHS. Slowly I went through his work. Mulholland Drive is probably my favorite film, period, with Mysterious Skin by Gregg Araki coming in at a close second. If I could ever meet David Lynch in person, I would just want to hug him. For the longest time, I wasn't aware that the film had been received so harshly upon its original release. I just happened to see it in a local video store and the cover intrigued me. Little did I know that I would bond with it to such a degree. I'm almost crying as I type this. If readers have made it this far, thank you for your time. I may go back and address the other subjects of this thread soon, but I simply had to get my thoughts on Fire Walk With Me out there in the open and off of my chest. Thank you LostInTheMovies for the thread. And I promise to not be so emotional in future posts!

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The Afterlife of Twin Peaks

N. Needleman: I didn't summon up the courage to rewatch the series and make it all the way through until the mid-late '90s, when I was a teenager and they were running it on Bravo. So there you go!

Ross:I discovered Wrapped In Plastic, and was a loyal fan until it ended. My interest in TP never really went away, and I watched my taped-off-the-air VHS tapes for years. I was also hopeful for many years that TP might return, but gave up on that after a while. It wasn’t until I became a member of Dugpa many years ago that I realized how many fans dislike so much of the series. I was surprised, and I actually stepped away from it for a while. But the soundtrack releases pulled me back in. First the 2nd season soundtrack, and then the Archive releases. For the better part of a year and a half I poured over the series studying all of the different music tracks and combinations. This was not only a dream come true for me, but it also really renewed my love of the series. I spent countless hours on my site/covers/mixes.


Ross on The Missing Pieces: Wow. I had given up on ever seeing these. 22 years is a long time to wait. When the preview for the "Missing Pieces" dropped, it was chill-inducing and surreal. Images that only existed in my head were finally being seen.

And while watching the scenes themselves didn't bring me that same level of surreal that the preview did (the preview had already done that), it was still an experience that can hardly be described, and can't really compare to anything. For me, finally seeing all of these scenes brought a huge sense of satisfaction, when it could have easily been one of disappointment.

The film and the Missing Pieces complement each other so well. So I don't mind having them as two separate pieces of the whole. I only wish we could have seen these from the beginning.


The Future of Twin Peaks

Ross on Twin Peaks 2016: I can’t really put into words how excited I am about this. Pretty much everything Frost said in his initial interviews were things I had been hoping for for years. I had always had this small hope that something might happen in that “25 years later” time period. But I was really shocked by the news. Aside from the best part- Frost & Lynch writing all, and Lynch directing all, I’m hopeful for:

New music from Badalamenti
Kyle M
Michael Ontkean
Heather Graham

Gabriel: I guess the main thing with these recollections is that I was seeing it very much 'in the moment' back then, not knowing what would come next. It's funny that there was a time when I was watching TP without thinking of it as a 'complete' unit, including the books and FWWM.

Like I say, hitting middle age as I am now, having just turned 40, I'm looking back to an era when I was still at school, still had grandparents, my beloved cat would curl up with me while watching the show with my Mum and Dad. My parents are elderly now. They're still in the the same house but it looks utterly different, new furniture, new carpets, different wallpaper, new windows. My little brother is long married. I've lived nearly two lifetimes since TP finished.

What will Twin Peaks as a town be like after all this time? Who will still live there? Who will have moved on? What new buildings will there be? Has the population risen, meaning the town has expanded or has the town shrunken after the Packard sawmill burned down? Did any trashy TV show do a documentary about Laura's murder, complete with reconstruction scenes? What happened to One-Eyed Jack's?

Because the show had such an impact on me and because it's coming back, it's actually made me somewhat introspective about the whole thing. The show affected my career choice, my choice of degree at college and this very much affected where I am now. I even got to edit the UK Horror Channel's Twin Peaks trailer a few years back! Certainly, anything I've worked on of my own has influences that go back to Twin Peaks.

The return of the series will bring back a lot of memories...
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True Detective season 2 episode 7 - "Black Maps and Motel Rooms"

August 3, 2015, 7:00 am
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This True Detective viewing diary is being written while the new series airs. As such, future readers need not worry: there are no spoilers for upcoming episodes.

Once again, my True Detective coverage has been bumped up to a Monday; this week's random post (my latest video) will go up on Thursday instead. The season 2 finale will probably go up on Tuesday next week.

"Black Maps and Motel Rooms" is certainly the most straightforward True Detective episode title in two seasons, suggesting that the show has burnt through its reservoirs of cagey artfulness and is ready to settle for straightforward procedural description. Well, so am I. I'm thankful for last week's episode but as expected it was a glimpse of season 2's potential greatness, not a sign that this greatness would be consistently realized. How could it be, when this glimpse arrived nearly 3/4 of the way into the season? Episode 7 continues the plot-heavy trend of the post-shootout episodes; similarly to episode 7 of the first season, it sidelines character development in favor of escalating the investigation and leading us to the doorstep of the killer. Although this time we are not provided with a definitive answer, most signs point toward Caspere's secretary, who was probably the orphaned girl from the jewelery heist in '92. In several significant ways, however, this penultimate episode differs from season 1's.

Clearly, the individual killer is less important than the systemic corruption this time (season 1 flirted with this idea before disappointingly demurring). But the biggest difference is in tone. After pushing its main characters' moral ambiguity into borderline Sopranos territory in mid-season, last year's episode 7 reverted back to flawed-but-heroic cop show mode with Cohle and Hart casting aside their personal problems to track down the bad guys. Although both were off the force, their teamwork inspired confidence in the face of corrupt cops, shady politicians, and eerie occult organizations. But despite the ease of Bezzerides', Velcoro's, and Woodrugh's escape from the orgy last week, this year's episode 7 paints the protagonists' predicament in grim terms. Their sole establishment ally, State Attorney Davis is assassinated (in a twist that took me by surprise) and their enemies aren't just a few corrupt cops but the entire statewide system. Bezzerides and Velcoro look physically vanquished from beginning to end (even as they grit their teeth and keep going) while Woodrugh doesn't make it to the end: he is gunned down from behind after nearly escaping a setup in the final minutes of the episode.

This is the first major casualty in the show's history (the Velcoro tease in episode 2 came the closest), but to be honest it feels less like a shock and more like a waste. Don't get me wrong; everything in Woodrugh's storyline pointed toward martyrdom, but it's hard to say what he achieves by walking into a trap set by his former Black Mountain allies, his traitorous lover Miguel, and Police Chief Holloway. Unless I missed something, none of the information he has acquired will make it to Velcoro and Bezzerides, and when the thugs take the detective's phone (with Velcoro's numbers) from his cold dead hands, Woodrugh has actually inadvertently led them closer to his friends. I suppose his entire trajectory could be read as the tragic cost of denying your identity, but in an already cluttered season it just makes the character seem more redundant. Sadly, after much foot-dragging and the occasional flicker of interest, the weakest link in season 2 is snuffed out with a solid action sequence that nonetheless registers as a dramatic whimper.

The season's other deeply uneven - but frequently much more fascinating - character is Frank Semyon, and episode 7 continues episode 6's trend of digging into his contradictions and flinty humanity. Though at times he plays like a tired cliche, at his best Semyon cuts a truly odd, compelling figure (mostly due to Vince Vaughn's peculiar, mannered, but fully-invested performance). "Sometimes your worst self is your best self," Semyon told Velcoro several episodes ago and sure enough, as he sinks to his lowest point (losing all of his assets in a humiliating takeover by Osip) the "gangster" removes the quotes from that title and strikes back in savage, savvy fashion, fully confident in his abilities for the first time all season. His ruthless beatdown and execution of the traitorous Blake isn't entirely convincing (Blake's desperate infodump is a bit too convenient, given how clear it should be to the character that his fate is sealed). But Vaughn sells the unapologetic viciousness of the violence. Two or three episodes ago, I was ready to write off this character, performance, and plotline, but now I am cautiously supportive. Kudos to Pizzolatto for his sharp departure from the buddy-cop formula of season 1; the fact that Semyon's story feels so apart from everything else on the show is something I actually like.

On the other hand, the scenes with Velcoro and Bezzerides remind us that their brittle camaraderie is probably the most interesting and unexplored relationship of season 2, a lost opportunity overshadowed by the byzantine elaboration of the mystery, the unnecessary Woodrugh character, and the more provocative but distracting Semyon saga. Their simmering, unspoken bond is a cool way of flipping the script on the opposites-attract formula (as well as the gender dynamics) of Cohle-Hart in season 1 and it's a pity the season hasn't allowed them to occupy center stage as much as that earlier duo. That said, I can't get onboard with their hookup at episode's end and it didn't seem like the actors - committed as they are to these performances - were really onboard with it either. Velcoro and Bezzerides just don't have that kind of chemistry. They click effortlessly as kindred spirits, perhaps with a bruised, buried attraction between them (even grunged up by the make-up artists of HBO, Farrell and McAdams are not ordinary-looking). But neither one is the romantic type and their need for companionship doesn't mean they would fall so easily into bed.

The show, to its credit, does not entirely suggest this is a good idea for either of them, and while it falls into the trope trap of "man and woman partnered together must eventually have sex" at least it doesn't do so at the expense of Bezzerides' character. If mistakes are made here, they are mistakes made by equals who - for all their other flaws - deeply respect one another. I'm disappointed by this development, but I'll grudgingly admit it could have been handled much worse than it is. The lovemaking is one of many developments that play more like writerly contrivance than a natural outgrowth of the material. Woodrugh's climax suffers the most from this complex. Why is everyone so ready to believe that his homophobia will lead him to betray his partners? Why is it necessary to blackmail him when he could just be tortured for the same information? How is he able to get so close to Holloway? In this scene and elsewhere, the dialogue drips with exposition, as much a frustration (because it robs these exchanges of any naturalness) as a relief (because finally we are getting answers).

Writing about the episode, its flaws become more apparent, but while I watched it I was mostly satisfied. It held my attention, moved briskly through a wealth of material, and included some moments of intensity and surprise. Basically, it felt like a well-executed but not at all atypical cop show (a cop flick if we want to be generous), and it probably helped that I was watching it live on TV rather than seeking it out on the internet afterwards: a good night's entertainment rather than an event to schedule an afternoon or evening around. This is obviously a far cry from the lofty ambitions Vanity Fair et al sold us before the season premiere, but while I never really expected True Detective to reach those heights I did expect its storytelling to be tighter and more gripping than the first four episodes. The bar is now lowered to the point where I'm just be glad to be somewhat invested in these characters, intrigued by their situations, and curious about what will happen next.

Will I be as eager to tune in for True Detecive season 3 as I was for season 2? Probably not, but next week's finale could change my mind if it does a few things right. If it's as competent as this episode, eh; if it's as singular as last week's, I'll still be skeptical that such rare heights can be reached consistently. However, if Pizzolatto surprises us by deepening and enriching the characters and their mysterious world - treating this 90-minute conclusion as a mini-feature film rather than just another episode - it would be a step in the right direction. Or if we're offered subtle clues linking season 1 and season 2, suggesting a larger story to tie together the uneven episodes and seasons, I would be willing to forgive a lot of its flaws and get truly excited for more True Detective. But I doubt this will be the case. Instead, I hope for an absorbing procedural plot (climaxing on a shoot-out at least half as atmospheric as last season's), with some good moments between the two remaining detectives, all presented with a dash of cool Bohemian Grove-type intrigue. Still, it's fun to retain that little shred of hope - at least for one more week - that I might be dazzled by something even better.

Next: the 90-minute season 2 finale • Previous: "Church in Ruins"


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Neon Genesis Evangelion, Episode 13 - "Lilliputian Hitcher"

August 5, 2015, 7:00 am
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This series is an episode guide to the Japanese anime television show Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995 - 96) and the spin-off films. Each entry includes my own reflection on the episode, followed by a conversation with fellow bloggers Bob Clark and Murderous Ink.

While the previous episode was more interested in the thoughts and feelings of the characters than the mechanics of their battle plan, in "Lilliputian Hitcher" the two approaches are intimately linked. The metaphor is explicated when Ritsuko describes how NERV's operating system (Magi) was designed to reflect her own mother's various roles - as mother, scientist, and woman. In Neon Genesis Evangelion, even the machines have feelings and it takes the most (seemingly) cold character to make us aware of this. As with humans, this sensitive structure makes the machines both powerful and vulnerable. This link between human and inhuman is echoed when Misato observes that the angels are "searching for a system that can cope with any situation." Think an alien, Terminator-like mechanical ruthlessness, right? But as Vice Cmdr. Fuyutsuki immediately adds, "That's truly the system of life itself."

Even when emphasizing the futuristic technology of its world, this series loves to highlight the human, mundane aspects. Early on, we see NERV's technicians going through the tedious exercises that surely constitute most of their day-to-day work - contra Hitchcock, Hideaki Anno often prefers to show us life with the boring bits left in. Mad Men famously features a fly trapped in Don Draper's light fixture, striving to remind viewers that some details transcend period; likewise the lived-in sci-fi of Evangelion constantly grounds its apocalypse in human reality. This is most evident in this episode with the post-it notes cluttering the advanced hardware. But as the show also reminds us, the catastrophic can erupt into the mundane at any moment.

Another day, another routine procedure at NERV, another casual operation hijacked by an Angel. This time the procedure is an immersion experiment, requiring the three pilots to float naked in dummy Evas. The operation combines the bloodless demands of science with the hot-blooded requests of fanservice, in mocking fashion of course. Asuka spends the entire scene ranting about the invasion of her privacy and half the screentime is hogged by the cold lens of a surveillance camera as Ritsuko drily explains the need for nudity. It's one of the more humorous ways this episode fuses the human and technological, a characteristic indulged openly once the Angel attacks.

Episode 13's Angel - or perhaps Angels - comes in the form of a computer virus. This is one of the most abstract, least action-oriented Evangelion episodes yet (without skimping on the suspense), not only denying us a physical Angel but staging the battle via invisible AI conduits in huge tubes buried beneath Tokyo-3. Remarkably, after their humorous early scenes, Shinji, Rei, and Asuka disappear from the story completely. As with the previous episode the "middle generation" (younger than Cmdr. Ikari, older than his son) comes to the forefront. But this time Misato, the usual torchbearer for this age group, plays sidekick. This threat is not a military one, so she must provide backup for the only character who knows how to deal with it.

It falls on the brainy, aloof Ritsuko to rescue Magi, the computer system programmed by her mother, as it is hacked by the Angel. In the process, she reveals a bit of her own humanity, remembering how strained her relationship to her mother was, yet using her family knowledge to stall the Angel at the last possible second. It's a light episode in many ways - playing more like an intellectual puzzle than a life-or-death struggle - but as with all the plotlines in this middle section of the series (the most conventional in terms of episodic storytelling) it foreshadows darker developments ahead, including a deeper exploration of Ritsuko's Mommy issues.



Conversation with Bob Clark
(Murderous Ink will return to the conversation for episode 15)

me: If memory serves, this episode pretty much ends the middle run, in which we face repeated, isolated Angel threats while allowing the characters to interact and slowly reveal themselves. The next episode is basically a recap, and then I think we're on to the increasingly dark and experimental final stretch of NGE. Which is honestly what interests me most. That said, this episode works on its own terms: more of a puzzle than a battle, as I put it in my episode summary. And like other episodes in this middle section it sets up some character developments & storylines which will pay off later. In this case, Ritsuko's since she's virtually the only character in play here (Misato appears as a sidekick basically, but the rest of the regulars are completely shunted aside).

Bob: It's also the biggest example to date of Anno's fanservice bluff. Maybe one of the biggest opening teases in all of anime.

me: Yeah I was kind of chuckling at that.
The coaxing was about as meta as it gets.

Bob: I don't know how the episode was advertised in Japan, but an interesting sidenote for American viewers is how the home release editions were advertised as this episode being "Naked Before the Angels". I don't think it mentioned the actual story at all. It's all about seeing the pilots naked, which of course occupies all of thirty seconds of screentime.
That also underlines the cleverness with which they bring in some of the headiest stuff to date onto the show-- distract everybody with the naked girls, but then pull the rug out from under your feet with a hard sci-fi story that's somewhere between William Gibson and Phillip K. Dick. It's the equivalent of shouting out "SEX" and then reciting T.S. Elliot after you have everyone's attention.

me: This is one of the most abstract episodes. It's basically a chess game vs. a contact sport.

Bob: Yeah. Not to mention a massive psychological deconstruction of Freudian parent-child relationships.
And I really want to underline that part. I mean, you could've had this episode be about the mental chess game between the angel and the bridge bunnies, basically a hackers' duel, and not included any of the freaky bio-engineering you have throughout the episode. But bringing that in really ups the ante and makes this more about the human relationships and how thoroughly meta everything is-- it's Ritsuko vs. the 3 ways her mother saw herself, how she saw her mother, etc.
It introduces the "you inside you, you inside someone else" concept really well. 

me: I found it interesting that the hijacked Magi first strikes Rei. Maybe it's more Magi than Angel - or maybe the Angel is tapping into the Magi's hostility.

Bob: Well, she's been vulnerable to contamination from the Angels before. Just sitting in an Eva was overpowering at first.

me: True, but I wonder if there isn't more to it.
Incidentally, when writing up my recap I accidentally called Magi "Mother" for obvious enough reasons given Ritsuko's relation to them, but I'm also realizing it ties into Alien and the ambiguous (ultimately hostile) relationship between the human crew and the computer system supposedly there to guide them but actually intending to sacrifice them.

Bob: And 2001, especially for how we see Ritsuko climb inside the mainframe to hack it. Actually, it's cool to see Anno not just resting wholly on Kubrick imagery and coming up with something much funkier, much more along the lines of body horror. Sort of somewhere between the Akira manga and Cronenberg.

me: This is definitely the episode in which computer seem the most alive (I was going to say "machines" rather than computers but we've already seen the Evas go off-grid).

Bob: And the episode also has some neat reminders of the biological physicality of the Evas. Grissly, too.

me: Ah just saw your comment on bringing in the Ritsuko-Mom relationship (sometimes in these chats I miss things). Agreed, it gives a nice human element to amplify what is basically an abstract, intellectual episode. And it sets up something down the road which, beyond the standalone-storytelling, is probably the episode's main purpose.
Until now we haven't really gotten much exposure to Ritsuko.
Or much expansion on the basic exposure, I should say.

Bob: Basically all we've gotten to know about her is-- She's hot, she's got a prickly friendship with Misato, she's hot, she's in on at least some of Gendo's plans, and she's hot.

me: I actually kind of want to rewatch the part where she's crawling into the tube with all the post-its laying about. That was the main thing I remembered about this episode, and I was kind of surprised it occupied so little running time in the episode.
The vast majority is taken up by techies staring in disbelief at computer screens as the Angel greedily consumes their entire operating system.

Bob: Again-- Gainax cutting corners wherever they can. A lot of this episode seems like it's built around pre existing set ups they have of the bridge bunnies looking up and shouting stuff.
It helps make all of the funky brain-tech programming stand out more, even moreso because they emphasize that instead of an Eva fight. As such, it really helps flesh out the larger world of the show, rather than resting on the laurels of the action.

me: How so?

Bob: Well, we don't just take the Magi for granted as three supercomputers named after the Three Wise Men. We see them turned into the focus of an episode's action, and we get to climb inside and see their guts, quite literally. We get to see all the supporting characters get to save the day while the main characters are stranded naked in a lake.

me: True. Interesting, this is the "larger world" in the sense of NERV vs. Tokyo-3/post-Second Impact civilization. Which may ultimately be just as important in context of the show.

Bob: It helps ground the world our heroes live in.
Another thing about the techie focus and the cost-cutting-- it wouldn't work nearly as well as it does without the fast paced editing and the near abstraction of so many of the displays.
Is it dumb to think that Casper being the last unhackable computer, the one that represents the side of Ritsuko's mother that she had so much trouble with, might possibly be a sliding reference to "the friendly ghost"?

me: According to Wiki Casper is a Magi too.
So probably no friendly ghost relation after all.

Bob: I just mean they chose Casper to be the last one to break for a reason. Casper instead of Melchior or Balthazar.

me: Could be...but we'll never know.
Did you notice anything else interesting on those notes taped to the interior of the Magi?

Bob: Not really, as I don't read Japanese, and that part I mentioned was translated.
But the fact that they're post-it notes is a cool real-world ism. It's the type of depicition of abstract thought you'd expect in a Charlie Kaufman movie. What is a mind? It's a computer filled with gooey brains inside pipes with hastily written post-it notes on the inside.

me: What is that in the compartment she opens up in the end and plugs her laptop into? It looks like an actual brain.

Bob: I'm assuming it's a cloned copy of her mother's brain. Or it's a computer processor so advanced it's built on bio-engineered circuits (they talked about this sort of thing on Star Trek Voyager, I think, around the same time).
At any rate, it definitely has an impact. Plus it's a neat little callback to Shirow.

me: What's Shirow?

Bob: Oh, the mangaka who did Ghost in the Shell. Has similar scenes where we see cyberbrains being accessed by big long needles.

me: Any other observations before we wrap up?

Bob: I think this is the only episode that takes place entirely in the Geo Front. No moments outside in Tokyo 3 or flashbacks at all.

me: Gendo has some strange, foreboding statement to the effect of "sacrifice the Geo Front if necessary".

Bob: And the pilots. And Evas 0 and 2. All he wants to preserve is Eva 1.

Visit Bob Clark's website NeoWestchester, featuring his webcomic as well as a new animated video related to Star Wars.

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Come, Sweet Death: a video tribute to The Phantom Carriage & Wild Strawberries

August 6, 2015, 7:00 am
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My most recent video has gone up on Fandor Keyframe. Here is the introduction I gave them:

In The Phantom Carriage (1921), Swedish director Victor Sjöström played a man forced by death (or, rather, Death) to confront his unhappy life. Thirty-six years later, as an old man close to death himself, Sjöström returned to this concept in Ingmar Bergman’s Wild Strawberries. “Come, Sweet Death” explores the macabre, poignant, disturbing images and words of these two films, sometimes side-by-side, sometimes back-to-back. Death was an important subject for both Sjöström and Bergman, not so much for its own sake, but for the ways it illuminated life itself.

The video appears after the jump:



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Talkin' WA ... a conversation on art, criticism & Woody Allen w/ Alex Sheremet, author of Woody Allen: Reel to Real

August 10, 2015, 7:00 am
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A year ago, writer and critic Alex Sheremet contacted me about his newest project. After editing the Take 2 guide to Woody Allen's work, which included some of my reviews (as did its predecessor, the Take 2 guide on Steven Spielberg), Alex had immediately followed up with another e-book for the same publisher, Woody Allen: Reel to Real. In this work, the author guides the reader through every single one of Allen's films, his work as an actor, and also the critical engagement with his work as represented - or misrepresented - by six critics: Roger Ebert, Dan Schneider, James Berardinelli, Pauline Kael, Ray Carney, and Jonathan Rosenbaum (whose subsequent exchange with Alex concludes this section). Alex wanted to discuss the book with me, and I agreed, but the book is long (627 pages according to Amazon), I had some major projects and so the conversation kept getting postponed. He was very patient, and when I was finally able to tackle the work I discovered it was worth the wait: despite its length, I read the entire text in a few days, glued to the screen by the author's passion and rigor. (My review of Reel to Real has just been posted on Amazon, where you can purchase a Kindle version.)

Throughout the book, Alex keeps his eye on both the particular - the specific Allen film in question - and the general - not just Allen's entire body of work, but the operation of art and criticism as a whole. I found myself both frustrated and fascinated by Alex's assertions of objectivity, his frequently casual dismissals of celebrated works by other artists, and his implicit (and, by the end of the book, explicit) privileging of intellectual over intuitive appreciation. I agreed with a great many of his conclusions, possibly the majority, yet often questioned his overarching philosophy. As such, I couldn't wait to talk with him. The following conversation was conducted via email, and actually represents only half of our correspondence. The other half centered around meta-issues of criticism and art, featured much longer individual responses from each of us, and will be presented in an upcoming update of Alex's book (in its "DigiDialogue" capacity, the e-book is continually revised as new readers engage with the text and its author over the years; if you buy it now, future updates will be free). To engage with Alex's work yourself, or read the surrounding discussions, you can visit his website. Although Woody Allen's work provides our premise, the resulting conversation wanders far afield...something the prodigious and eclectic auteur would, himself, undoubtedly appreciate.

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Before we begin, for the sake of readers can you introduce yourself, your interest in Allen, and the reasons behind your outlook and approach to this book?


I am a poet, critic, and novelist living in New York City. I have a variety of interests- hence my desire to do film criticism from a wide “art-first” approach, where issues of character, writing, narrative, imagery, music, and their summation(s) matter. More than anything, however, I wanted Woody Allen: Reel To Real to be a kind of blueprint for critiquing art as a whole. It covers dozens of films at great depth so that, over time, the reader knows what to look for, and can extrapolate some of these ideas to the art-world at large. In an important sense, this book isn’t merely ‘about’ Woody’s art. It is about ART, with Woody serving merely as a convenient specimen.

For this reason, I don’t necessarily state my premises outright- I don’t give readers a ‘list’ of what to look for in a good film, as that’s the quickest way to formulaic thinking (which is counter to art) and a way of avoiding the exceptions that utterly DEFINE so much of art. For instance: to many viewers, John Cassavetes’s best films might ‘go on too long,’ or Walt Whitman’s great poems have too much ‘stuff’ within. Yet a careful look at either reveals that there is purpose- there is communication- in the excess, even though concision is a good rule of thumb. The point is that any artistic rule immediately calls up sub-categories, exceptions, sub-exceptions, exceptions to the exceptions… save for one. And it is this: whatever ends up on the screen, page, or frame, it must be purposeful- it must communicate something of substance, or at least act as a route to substance, of re-framing substance. And the measure of ‘substance’ is Man at his apex. I am not communicating to school-children, Homo erectus, or the guy down the street who has no knowledge of these things whatsoever. I am communicating to those who are interested, open-minded, and willing to put in a little work. I assume my audience is smart. I assume we are, at least on some level, equals. No, I cannot prove it, but if I act like it, write like it, and think like it, something valuable starts to happen that goes beyond the both of us.

My hope is that, after seeing my reactions to so many films, an implicit (rather than explicit) system will emerge in the reader’s mind. I can’t, for instance, praise a well-executed film (say, Manhattan) for its visual and intellectual depths, then go on to deride Husbands And Wives merely because I disagree with some of its conclusions. There needs to be a consistent response, even though- for instance- a flaw in one film might be a strength in another, thus leading to some surprising conclusions. Over time, the careful reader will take on these surprises, and will turn them inward- make them part of his own thinking. And by not making the films about me, I hope that the reader won’t make them about himself either. The point is to go further- to go beyond one’s opinions, one’s limits, one’s preferences and likes, and see the object for what it is rather than the desires commonly imposed on it. As Confucius wrote 2500 years ago: ‘Rare is the man who can love and see the defects, or hate and see the excellence of an object.’ For whatever reason, this style of thinking is still not the norm.

Yes- Woody Allen: Reel To Real is the biggest book on Woody’s film art ever written, and will continue to grow every year. But it’s above all a tool. This is its long-term value, and its value to those that aren’t even necessarily fans of Woody’s films but wish to better understand art. I could have done this book on Ingmar Bergman, Wallace Stevens, Caravaggio, Bosch, Ovid, John Steinbeck… In a very real sense, it would have turned out to be the same exact book. Sure, the details would have to be different, but the approach would be the same- the patterns would be the same, for art has the same underpinnings everywhere. Once these underpinnings are understood, adding a new artist- from ANY discipline- to one’s sense of things is no longer so daunting, merely a challenge to see where such things fit. It’s different for everyone, of course; this is why artistic ‘rules’ are so inane. Yet to therefore assume that there are NO patterns one could work with is an extreme that simply defies human experience. We need to get at these patterns and understand them, not merely spell them out.

As for Woody, himself? I don’t think criticism has been very fair to him. Excepting Roger Ebert’s review, for instance, the general reason why Manhattan is praised is 100% counter to the film’s reality, and why the film works as a film. This is not mere nitpicking. I think it’s great that a wonderful film like Manhattan is understood to be a classic, but if this is informed by the wrong reasons, it means that, if you put a similarly great film in front of those same people, they might not be able to recognize it, for they’d be reacting- as with Manhattan- to something they think they see, as opposed to what’s there. In a very real sense, they’d be reacting to themselves, their own drives, their own needs, their own desires. This is dangerous to the arts. Same goes for other films- Stardust Memories is great but neglected; Another Woman is similarly ignored; counter to the odd mythology, the 90s were actually a pretty good period for Woody, overall. And many ‘name’ critics- Pauline Kael, Jonathan Rosenbaum, Vincent Canby, Ray Carney- have gotten the individual films so wrong, even on the seemingly minor details, that it’s shocking there hasn’t been a comprehensive response to their errors and crude lapses in judgment.

Still, this happens to many great artists. Woody isn’t special in this regard. He simply happens to be more useful to this sort of book because he’s made so many films and has withered so many responses to his work- positive, negative, and/or simply dumb. In this way, I can approach things from multiple angles, and have many opportunities to finally get things right even if I might fail in others. This might be harder to do with other artists- especially those far removed from our own time, since they’ve long settled into a glow of general acceptance. People are much more willing to praise you- and to be fair to you- when you’re dead. The dead are harmless. The dead don’t threaten the insecure. And the insecure don’t wish they were dead. Primate thinking, I guess- or some bullshit.

The book takes a very cerebral approach to Allen's work, skeptical of emotion's utility for analysis. Is this due to the subject or is it an approach you would take to any subject?

If I'm ever asked to write another book on film, I'd likely write one on John Cassavetes, but in a very different way. Yes, I'd discuss all the films, in depth, in an objective way, but I'd also likely include personal anecdotes, connect them to larger, philosophical themes, throw in some 'fiction' here and there, and essentially turn the thing into a hybrid work- not pure film criticism. I'm MUCH more drawn to this kind of style than pure, cerebral criticism. Yet this was simply out of bounds for THIS project, published, as it is, with a new publisher. Even so, I'd argue that criticism has been too biased- too based on personal likes and dislikes- too EMOTIONAL, and there needed to be something highly cerebral (as Woody Allen: Reel To Real definitely is) as a kind of corrective. A friend of mine told me that, knowing the way I am, and my diverse interests, that it must have been 'torture' writing a book so careful and methodical. I wouldn't it term 'torture,' exactly, but it's not my first preference.

How did the idea of Woody's different periods formulate as you wrote the book (or beforehand)?

I was always surprised at Woody Allen's range: from pure comedies, to hybrids, to mockumentaries, to serious dramas, to drama-comedies, etc. Yet it took him over a decade to hit his first 'serious' film with Annie Hall- and then Interiors. He always wanted to do 'serious' drama but felt unable. Clearly, a decade of mulling- then execution- implies that something had happened, and that it was important to mark it off appropriately. Looking at his films, I'd argue the best were between Annie Hall and Husbands And Wives (even though there were missteps along the way). The decade after this seemed quite underrated- they were, with the exception of a couple of works, pretty damn good, yet he hadn't had a pure drama in so long. Age, disconnection, new actors, new ideas, etc., made it obvious that his final period needed to begin with his first pure drama in a while: Match Point. This was coupled with a marked drop in quality with his comedies, even as a couple of them stood out to me.

Were there other critics you considered for the final section, and if so why did you ultimately exclude them?

I included the ones that were either notable for their quality or egregiousness, or those that people referred to often. Roger Ebert was a necessity; Dan Schneider- besides being a great critic- has informed much of my own critical work, so to exclude him would have been dishonest; Ray Carney, I respect for his scholarly work on John Cassavetes, and have always found it interesting how success in one field (scholarly ability) does not translate into others (evaluative judgment). Pauline Kael has been praised for decades, yet I found her writing poor and her judgments needlessly controversial and ill argued. Jonathan Rosenbaum is grating with his flippant, devil-may-care attitude in regards to film criticism, dismissing great works in a mere 4-5 sentences without evidence or explanation, or demanding- almost sanctimoniously- that works of art adhere to his own ideological, political, and ethical positions. This is a kind of me-me-me'ism in life that I simply can't stand, but it's much worse when it's forced into grand, abstract concerns like film. Now you have this recrudescence of selfishness and myopia making its way into the ONLY place in life where human beings (or at least some of them) have learned to be supremely creative- supremely unconcerned with dross and politicking and general stupidity. No other critics came to mind, really; these were- for one reason or another- good to discuss.

Which other films or filmmakers did you watch while writing the book, and did you find any surprises or new perspectives in doing so, either on Allen's work or on theirs?

I watched and re-watched lots of Bergman; lots of Fellini; lots of Woody's own personal favorites. I was surprised with The Rules Of The Game and Grand Illusion, since I found them fairly rote, prosaic, and a bit dated. I developed lots of new personal favorites with Chaplin, and saw stuff by the Marx Brothers and Buster Keaton that I hadn't seen before. This enriched me, but, as with many things, I can't quite say 'how' just yet- it'll deepen and reveal itself with time. It's shocking, however, to see that Woody is more critical of Jean-Luc Godard than is normally thought. For all of his love of Godard, his personal interactions with him seemed uncomfortable- as if, quite vaguely, Godard was a fake. Seeing his amused expressions over Godard's silly questions in Meetin' WA is quite funny.

When you contacted me, one of the things you mentioned was my belief that - despite the differences in approach and reception - Annie Hall, Interiors, Manhattan, and Stardust Memoriesformed a kind of interlocked core in Allen's canon and were probably his most important films. In the book, however, you place these four in a much longer "Golden Age" stretching up to 1992. Do you also see them as their own mini-era within that Age, separate if not necessarily superior to what followed?

No doubt those are all great films, but the point is that they’re not the only ones. Manhattan- to me- is a slightly improved Annie Hall, Interiors is one of his best ‘pure’ dramas, and Stardust Memories is simply a supernal film, touching on issues of art, meaning, and existence at cosmic levels that even the best filmmakers can only dream about. Yet these films were soon followed by Zelig (an excellent experimental work- even if it’s a bit ‘small’), Broadway Danny Rose, Crimes And Misdemeanors, Hannah And Her Sisters, Another Woman (one of my 2 or 3 favorite Woody films), Husbands And Wives, and, of course, Radio Days- which is probably the greatest ‘pure’ comedy that I’ve ever seen. These films were not separated by decades from the first 4, or anything like that. They came practically one after the other, meaning, they were still part of the same mindset that created the earlier films- they were part of the same drive. I don’t see this in any of his films after Husbands And Wives, even though a handful do come quite close.

As for a mini-era, one could make the argument that Annie Hall- which is a bit rough around the edges- was more or less expected to be slightly unpolished given that Woody had worked on pure comedies up until that point, and needed (if the reports are to be believed) quite a bit of editorial help before we had the present film. Interiors, although a great film, and probably superior to Manhattan, overall, had a couple of moments that were a little too obvious and clunky, which is, again, exactly what you’d expect from a first drama. Manhattan covered similar territory to Annie Hall, thus perfecting its brand of comedy-drama, while Stardust Memories did something else altogether, something that would go on to rival the very best art-works ever created, by any artist, in any medium. I guess one could view these early films as practice, but that denies the reality of what they truly are. In general, it seems more useful to see them as part of a continuum stretching all the way to 1992.

I would agree that there is something about these four films that feels like "practice," which was probably why I grouped them together in that essay I wrote many years ago. Where I disagree is in seeing this "practice" aspect as a denial of "what they really are." Rather, I would see that quality as an amplification of what they really are, indeed a crucial aspect of their fundamental nature. Many of the films' achievements may be inseparable from their flaws, having the same source and being deeply intertwined in their effect.

That is to say if Annie Hall were less rough around the edges, I suspect it would be a lesser film (I'm not sure if the same is true of Interiors, but would be willing to put forward the possibility for the sake of argument). I don't see a work of art as the totality of an artist's control over his means but rather as a collaboration between the artist and the world. Oftentimes, the struggle between the artist and his tools or conditions, while creating a certain messiness in the work, also yields startling, profound experiences that would not be achieved if the artist's control was more total.

Well, this is merely a semantic distinction, but to be fair, the word 'practice' implies that you're still not where you need to be. You're 'practicing' for something- yet many people have argued that Annie Hall and Manhattan are his best films. To most, he already 'got there' by the late 1970s. Yet I'm arguing that they're great, that Stardust Memories is his best (as well as one of the greatest films ever made), and Interiors one of his best dramas. Woody continued to make great films until 1992, and many excellent ones after, but you can't honestly go that much higher than the 4 films we've discussed. Maybe if you interpret the word 'practice' to mean reaching some point that has nothing to do with quality, then yes. In other words, the line from Manhattan to Husbands And Wives isn't a vertical/ascendant, but horizontal. Also, some roughness around the edges doesn't necessarily imply a lesser work, merely that some parts might be 'practiced' away in the future. Interiors is certainly rougher than Husbands in some ways, but I'd argue it's the superior film as its highs are higher and more frequent, as opposed to Husbands, which has a kind of baseline greatness from beginning to end.

You appear quite frustrated with established professional critics, and indeed one of the purposes of the book is to serve as corrective to the dubious assertions they have established as conventional wisdom. But you seem much more favorable to the world of online criticism. Can you elaborate on the distinction you see between the two realms, and why you prefer the latter? Is it purely a generational matter or is there something inherent in the internet that brings forth a fresher, more nuanced take on Allen, and perhaps cinema in general?

I wouldn’t characterize myself as more favorable to online criticism, as there’s silliness everywhere. The real difference, to me, is that online critics generally have a shorter shelf-life, and tend to be less ossified than their print counterparts, who came of age at a time when there was remarkably little competition. Now, I don’t think much of Film Crit Hulk and other gimmicks, but at least the films, themselves, get touched upon. It may be done badly- it may be done with intellectual laziness, but there’s at least a pretense of engagement and often genuine passion. Other critics are just really straightforward- you, James Berardinelli, Nick Davis, and literally hundreds of others that simply want to discuss films, and do so, with varying degrees of success. The writing may not be as qualitatively good nor poetic as Roger Ebert’s, for instance, but you get the sense that: here’s a film, here is my interpretation, and I will try to do the best that I can with the evidence that I have. I’d argue there’s been too much of a drive to dismantle ego and personality in the last couple of decades- in ALL parts of life- but then again, most online critics don’t have a need to ‘show off’. So they don’t really lie or antagonize or claim to erect some vast ‘theory’ for attention. They simply happen to enjoy films- for good or ill. I tend to focus on the ill because that’s what’s been offered to me for evaluation, but it must be remembered the all things in life fall into a bell curve. Sorry! Every human trait, ability, or mode of being tends towards mediocrity- and film critics are no exception. They are simply doing God’s duty, if such an inert and idiotic phrase may be resuscitated.

But tell me: if Jonathan Rosenbaum were a 21 year old today, competing with thousands of the critics, above, and thousands more with a scholarly and/or ideological bent (which defines Rosenbaum), and literally thousands- tens of thousands, perhaps- academics vying for attention, would he REALLY have become as popular as he did? Probably not, as there are literally a thousand little Rosenbaums all over the place in academic journals and the like, writing in their piss-poor academic-ese, blogging their ideological axes to Tumblr, posting on Reddit, or whatever other circle-jerk they happened to have developed an affinity for. Had he grown up today, I could see his miss-the-forest review of Taxi Driver, for instance, decrying this or that example of bigotry, making its way around the Social Justice blogosphere as ‘smart’ and ‘hip’- then promptly dying off once the next guy comes around. There is literally NOTHING unique about Rosenbaum’s writing- it’s flat, it’s inert, and the only good I can say of it is that it’s informed by a great technical knowledge that most critics (including myself) simply lack. Perhaps he could have fallen into a technical niche, or gotten hired as an operator, film restorer, archivist, or what have you, but there’s simply too much out there -- too many copy-cats, too many without a real voice -- for him to reasonably compete with all the detritus. And that’s because he’s part of it! I’d argue the same for Pauline Kael, the ‘feel-good’ silliness of Manny Farber, or whoever else that was boosted by a comparatively small print world. They’d simply not SURVIVE today, but it’d have nothing to do with a qualitative shift. It’s just numbers.

The other part is- as you’ve said- generational. If you watch that Woody Allen documentary from 2011, you’ll see so many critics, actors, etc., more or less regurgitating the same critical viewpoints that were current when Woody Allen first came out. The responses to Annie Hall, Manhattan, Stardust Memories, and others were never really updated. Adults are generally content with having the same intellectual opinions they’ve held since they were 17 -- even though they usually feel they’ve ‘changed’. To me, it’s almost as if these guys saw the films once or twice, in 1979, read the contemporaneous articles and reviews, and- 30 years later- have nothing more to add, nor any desire to look at the shifts that Woody’s reception has undergone among new film fans. The fact is, the initial response to great art is often lukewarm if not outright negative, and people generally see the superficial aspects of a thing, first. It takes time for ideas and art-works to sort of level out, to (finally) ascend or descend to where they properly belong. It’s not a perfect process- some things slip through the cracks, while others are still heralded for reasons other than the art, itself. But a new generation has the benefit of distance. This is why literally every person I’ve shown Another Woman to thought it was a great film, then were shocked at the negative reception it first received when I told them about it. That’s because, being 25 year olds in 2015, they don’t KNOW about ‘that one piece’ that Vincent Canby wrote in 1988 for the New York Times, or a 4 or 5 line dismissal by Jonathan Rosenbaum in the Chicago Reader almost 3 decades ago. So they’ve not been biased like earlier generations. They can rely on their own faculties, then dismiss all of this writing as products from a few old and out-of-touch farts.

Yet I’m not trying to be optimistic here. This cuts both ways. I’m sure that many of the critics and viewers around today will end up doing precisely what this Old Guard did- if they’re not already doing it. They may not be biased by the critical discourse of a quarter-century ago, but they ARE biased by today’s trends: and not just in film criticism. It’s quite possible that they would not be able to recognize a new, great work of art today, and simply dismiss it. Hell -- they might even express contempt for it. And 25 years from now, THOSE new critics will look down on TODAY’S ignorance, but continue to treat their own artists with the same sort of negligence and abuse. The Internet does not necessarily provide a way out. It simply gives people the opportunity to explore these historical patterns, and consider the possibility, therefore, that they’re falling into the same patterns, themselves, and how they might avert this. This is what the Internet helped me do so I could avoid some of the mistakes I was making as a kid. But you need to have some sense to even see this.

I think Rosenbaum is a much more complex figure than you credit. While he certainly wears his political convictions on his sleeve, he has also been an acidic critic of academics who "hate art" in the interest in ideology, and his critical ethos - while frustrating when it clashes with a more evenhanded, less personality-driven perception - is not simply reducible to political posturing or personal idiosyncracies. Even in his exchange with you in the book, there is a compelling and complicated clash of ideas and worldviews which I think a truly inferior thinker would not provide.

I think he suffers in the short form - particularly the capsules you cite in your critique - much more than someone like Roger Ebert, for example. But when given room to explore a subject in longer form (such as in his Essential Cinema book) he almost always brings interesting observations to the table. To be honest, and it's been a while since I read him, I don't really recall any great technical knowledge informing his work (a better example of that would probably be David Bordwell), but rather a penchant for the historical context of creation that most critics lack.

I disagree with your estimation for reasons I've explained in the book. I literally go through every review he's given on Woody's films, and pick apart the claims, and go, paragraph by paragraph, through his 'big' essay on Woody. Literally every complaint that he has re: Allen's films is an ideological or aesthetic complaint. Manhattan is too pristine/lacking in black people (thus mirroring Carney's complaints); Another Woman references intellectuals and artists, which he doesn't 'like' without explaining the artistic issue; calls Interiors'derivative' without much explanation- merely fiat; attacks Crimes And Misdemeanors thru a strange posit re: 1980s crime, then more or less complains that we don't empathize with Dolores- ignoring that Allen's inversion of a killer into a mini-hero (in that instance) and a victim into an annoying, selfish dunce is a magisterial feat, mirroring the viewer's change of sympathies in A Clockwork Orange. He then, tiringly, complains that Allen doesn't include more Jewish crises/problems in the films, and bemoans Allen's refusal to be more explicitly political- as if Allen owes the world anything other than great films, in Allen's own way. I've not even mentioned the half-dozen or so 'reviews' that he has of individual films, wherein he dismisses them in 4-5 sentence summaries without even so much one piece of evidence. And it's utterly predictable that Rosenbaum thinks a light comedy such as Oedipus Wrecks is Woody's best, for it has the sort of Jewish identity issues that he so craves at the expense of, say, everything else that might make a great film, well, a great film. It is simply unfair to Allen, and it is unfair to young people (like me, when I was 16 or 17) who are searching for answers- searching for a way to SEE- and come across Jonathan Rosenbaum and get hoodwinked into accepting such silliness. They will ossify before they're 20.

As I've argued elsewhere, Rosenbaum (unlike, say, Kael) has certainly contributed to the world of cinema by way of his technical knowledge, for very few people could ever have that kind of expertise. So, kudos on that- I could NEVER match him in that regard. Like you said, his knowledge is expansive beyond film. But he's a critic. He THINKS of himself as a critic rather than a pure scholar. And his evaluative criticism is atrocious, contradictory, and dishonest. His historical context may be interesting sometimes, but it's also highly misleading- just look at his complaints of American bigotry in Taxi Driver, or his odd need to tie Zelig, of all films, to Warren Beatty's Reds. I gave him the opportunity to respond to my critique, but he merely hid behind a few pet theories and offered a couple of philosophical jabs instead of dealing with the issues head-on, despite the fact that I was thorough enough to deal with his work as fairly as possible. More fairly, at any rate, than the Internet trolls who bitch and moan about this or that review of his, without being able to articulate WHY.

This is, at any rate, what I meant re: the historical process. We now have ACCESS to it. No one can accuse me of Rosenbaum's sloppiness. I saw it first-hand, I resented the negligence, and I simply demanded more of myself- as my superiors will inevitably demand more of themselves than I have of myself, a century from now. They will bury and transcend me as we must bury Kael, Carney, Farber, Rosenbaum, etc., today. There is no choice but to round about the inevitable, to complete the circle that the world- in its iron way- has entrusted us with.

I would not argue the value of his criticism of Woody Allen particularly. I don't recall reading many of his Allen reviews, and the samples you've provided generally aren't very impressive. All I am saying is that I think the sweeping dismissal you make is unfounded in the larger context of his critical work. Essential Cinema, in particular, I found quite thought-provoking. I think he thrived much more in developing extended ruminations than short reviews.

I've not read Essential Cinema, but seen dozens of his pieces, both big and small, spanning much of his career. There are, as you've pointed out, some nice contexts and technical info, but- unless I've somehow managed to only expose myself to total shit- I've simply not been impressed by anything at all. He is really not a critic, and only sometimes a scholar. This is why Ray Carney (who's a poor judge of art) is a more positive force, overall, despite our disagreements: he sticks mostly to his scholarship. But Rosenbaum ventures into places he really has business being in.

Given your frustration with immediate hot takes on a work, do you feel there is also value in contemporaneous criticism, and if so what does it offer that later critiques cannot?

The bottom line is good criticism- that is, proper evidence, and an argument in line with this evidence. I’d argue that Art, as a whole, was generally in a dark age until the Chinese poets of the Tang dynasty. The Renaissance created a foundation, followed by the first truly and consistently great art-works from Bosch and Caravaggio, and then -- as if they were a kind of historical tipping point, a bottle-neck -- a deluge of great writing, painting, music, and so on, which reached its apex over several centuries in American Modernism. Yet art (for most artists) is- unfortunately- instinctive rather than thoughtful, and the vast majority of artists who’ve written ON art have done so poorly. Nietzsche (a greater writer) had a wonderfully philosophical conception of art in The Birth Of Tragedy, but could do NOTHING to explain its inner machinations, its ‘how’ -- and only partly could explain its why, locked, as he was, into his own classical biases. Shelley wrote a number of great poems, but had a childlike, moralizing approach to poetic criticism that literally cuts out ⅘ of all the great works ever written. Samuel Johnson was just atrocious- perhaps the first example of an academic ass who loved the sound of his own quill. Coleridge and Edgar Allen Poe did better, for reasons we can’t really deduce, but artistic criticism only improved (however slightly) in the 1900s, literally CENTURIES after great art works started to flood the world. In other words, there so much catching up to do- logic needs to catch up to instinct, for instinct is our primeval base. This is what we privilege.

I don’t think there is that much of a qualitative divide between old, new, and (most likely) future criticism, except that since we have access to history, we can study it, we can learn to avoid certain mistakes. The more important question is how quickly logic will be adopted to criticism, and whether or not people will realize that -- for all of the differing opinions on various art works and styles -- there has ALWAYS been an implicit set of goals in what history (not individuals; not tastes, likes, or dislikes) has deemed to be great art. Getting to the bottom of what these are, so that people have a common language, is important. Some may take issue with this, but the deeper point is that the world does not care about their disagreement. It will continue to move on as it’s always moved on. It’s important to not opt out of the world.

You say, "Yet art (for most artists) is- unfortunately- instinctive rather than thoughtful..." Do you mean "unfortunately" as it applies to their suitability for criticism, or more generally? In others words, do you think it would be "fortunate" if artists approached their art thoughtfully rather than instinctively?

There needs to be a dual approach. Yes, some great art has come about through the unconscious, but many of these same artists have likewise been responsible for atrocious work. That is because they trusted instinct and ONLY instinct, and therefore, could not see the difference between good and bad during times when it could have benefited them. One has to be wary; art needs an element of personal fear. And I feel that instincts- in ANY field- can be honed. Boxers are instinctive- yet their instincts are 'better' (meaning, they correspond more deeply to reality) than a guy's who doesn't fight. Good teachers have good instincts- yet great teachers usually practice until their instincts are fine-tuned. This requires logic, trial and error, seeing what works. Same with art. Instinct needs to be there, but likewise the ability to curtail and understand it.

I feel logic has had a pretty good run and that - when it comes to critical analysis - it is instinct which needs to catch up. I suspect, for example, that the critics' simplistic, lazy reading of Manhattan results less from reliance on misleading emotion than on filtering their emotional responses through an intellectual framework which they have assembled to make the film more digestible. This lends itself to reduction and myopia because it disregards all the sensory data that doesn't fit within it, in interest of maintaining the correct "line." This is a common mistake of criticism which privileges categorization over observation. Logic is only as good as the perceptions it works upon - the process is only as good as its raw materials.

In some ways, you're right. Yet "disregarding all the sensory data that doesn't fit within it" is a clear logical error. In fact, there is a formal name for it: cherry-picking. The basics of critical discourse is argument, evidence, and some ability to connect the two. I'd argue logic needs to catch up because while pure instinct can create great art (and has), pure instinct cannot make good criticism, for it requires argument, synthesis, antithesis, etc. These are carried out in the intellectual realm, even if instinct might inform them at times.

You mentioned Birth of Tragedy so perhaps this would be the point at which to say I am more drawn to the Dionysian in art, although I certainly don't reject the Apollonian (it would probably be most accurate to say I value and enjoy both modes of experience, quite independently of one another, but am drawn more frequently to experience, and particularly to discuss, the former). I get the sense that this is an area where we are coming at the same object from fundamentally different premises.

I'm probably more drawn to the Dionysian as well (for example, I really enjoy Fellini's Satyricon and much of Cassavetes), but I don't think one could make the case that either one or the other is greater. Wallace Stevens is Apollonian; Sylvia Plath, likely Dionysian- at least in parts. Who is better? Either tradition can be handled poorly, and both have potentially equal lows and highs. Both have pitfalls, both have strategies. Nietzsche was arguing for a personal preference that, however well-written his argument, however interesting, never really went beyond a personal preference.

You definitely seem to have an intellectual (which is not to say visceral) preference for drama over comedy. On a somewhat personal note, then, can you speak to why you are so deeply drawn to Allen, whose dramas - however excellent - are far outnumbered by his comedies?

I first became interested in Woody Allen as a ‘solution’ to relationship problems in my teen years- to see how older, wiser people handled these situations. Of course, most of the characters in his films handle them poorly, and those that do handle them well (such as Annie in Annie Hall) are usually not these films’ heroes. Thus, getting to the bottom of Allen’s films was also figuring out just WHO was getting skewered.

This, of course, was a more personal rather than intellectual reason, but just like Allen said of reading as a teenager: first, it was a kind of defense mechanism against the world’s dangers, but eventually, one sees the value of such things in and of themselves. The important thing here is that Allen’s dramas tend to be really great films. They are poetic, highly imagistic, well-written, well-acted, and do things with artistic influences (Fellini, Bergman) that at times even BETTERS Allen’s predecessors, mostly notably in Allen’s use of Fellini’s 8½ in Stardust Memories. It would be ridiculous to ignore Allen’s dramas, for any reason, as they are great resources for learning about art’s inner workings- especially since they are so accessible to most viewers.

Would it be fair to say then that Allen's penchant for comedy is essentially irrelevant to the reasons you are drawn to him, both personally and intellectually?

Not necessarily. I do enjoy his comedies quite a bit. I have an intellectual preference for drama, as does Allen. But I do wonder of the long-term trajectory of comedy, and it's a question of considerable intellectual interest for me. I think (as I've already argued) it will become greater and deeper in ways that I am simply too immature to predict right now. It's just interesting to draw a line between The Marx Brothers and Woody, note the extreme differences, then imagine what the next iteration will look like. I only have inklings of it, nothing more.

You mention that perhaps in time comedy will evolve into a higher form. Can you elaborate on this? And do you mean just in cinema, or in other forms as well (do you think a deeper comedy has emerged, for example, in theater where it has had millennia to percolate)?

If one looks at a comedy like Allen’s Radio Days, wherein- despite its near-purity as a comedy- every character receives some form of closure, situations are filmed hyper-realistically, at times, music becomes almost a narrative force in and of itself, all the while much of the object remains to create pleasure (a base concern available to most animals) as opposed to stimulate intellectually, I imagine comedy honing in on these features into the future, of intensifying them without losing the intellectual thread. I don’t think Allen has been bettered as a comic, but when I look at the sort of shit I’d laugh at on Reddit, on Youtube, etc., I’m noticing that I get further and further afield from ‘regular’ humor compared to even some of the most intelligent people in the world. They don’t necessarily find my humor funny, while older-style jokes have lost their zing to me. The Internet breeds utter conformity, popularity contests, and the like, but I *know* there are intelligent comics out there (perhaps yet to be born) who will ultimately grow up with its peculiar style, and take at least a handful of things from its value system. And it’s not merely an aesthetic difference, as this style necessarily draws on EVERYTHING that’s come before -- plus a kind of social humor that is lost on most people under 35.

It’s hard to discuss this in very concrete terms, as this is all very recent, and will ultimately be guesswork. But, to me, there’s such a huge gulf between The Marx Brothers and Allen’s work, qualitatively, aesthetically, etc., that I can imagine a similar leap between Allen and the guy in 2045. To assume that it won’t somehow draw on these new ways of making fun of the world would be an error.

An interesting response, though this wasn't what I was asking! More simply: if comedy will eventually evolve into a higher form, why hasn't it already done so in the past 2,500 or so years? Or do you feel that only in the cinema is comedy almost inherently inferior to drama (if I'm correctly construing your point)?

"Higher," meaning, greater than it is. I think this applies to all art forms. The written comedies and tragedies are simply inferior, on the whole, to the stuff of the 1600s, 1800s, and today. I just think that comedy is a bit harder to chart in some ways, hence my strange curiosity. Comedy is inherently inferior (as I write in my book) ONLY insofar as what's been done with it. People are at fault, not comedy. It's simply the best that we have right now. This is like comparing a book from Homer or Lucretius to a book-length poem like Hart Crane's The Bridge -- the latter is on a COMPLETELY different plane of existence intellectually, philosophically, aesthetically, and artistically: a testament to human capabilities. Re: comedy's status, that won't be the case forever, and I don't see why, theoretically, comedy can't match it. It's just that such things are difficult to conceptualize right now.

Whatever its flaws, do you think What's Up Tigerlily? had an influence on Allen's use of pastiche (or apparent pastiche) for deeper purposes in later works like Annie Hall? Or do you think both works arose out of a similar impulse, rather then one leading to the other?

It’s probably more accurate to say that Tiger Lily is reflective of the way Allen’s mind assembles and disassembles things. For someone who is able to make a film like Tiger Lily, a pastiche in Annie Hall or Zelig is simply the next logical step. I’ve written books before that, as initial attempts, were a stepping-stone to bigger, deeper things. But I’d not say I was ‘influenced’ by my earlier work. The thing you are as an artist -- your axiomatic self -- doesn’t really change. It’s simply refracted over and over again as you come to learn what this self is.

While handled comically, do you see any link between Luna's failed attempts at poetry in Sleeper and Joey's frustrations in Interiors (or, for that matter, other Allen characters who are frustrated creatively)?

I don’t think most viewers notice this, but Woody Allen has a really great handle on bullshit in the arts. Luna is little more than yet another reiteration of the upper middle class dilettante who wants to be ‘deep’ but cannot. Joey is the same, except her situation is not comic but serious. There ARE Joeys out there- especially the serious artists who, in fact, are not artists at all and can never be, no matter how hard they practice their craft. And while this is quite visible in Interiors, there are definitely other iterations of such in his other films.

Out of curiosity, why did you place Sleeper before Bananas in the book despite adhering to chronology elsewhere?

It simply flowed better that way, not in terms of the chronology but in terms of the book’s over-narrative. In this case, I wanted to pick apart Sleeper as a film with greater depth, yet show how Bananas, being lighter, and set right after it in the book, feels necessarily ‘deflated’- that there are fewer critical ‘A-ha!’ moments for the reader, less pleasure when they read about a lesser work. I could opine all I wish about Sleeper being the greater film, yet if I can show, by way of discussion, that there’s simply MORE to say of Sleeper, the argument, implicitly, doesn’t even need to be made. In fact, the book does similar things quite a bit. There’s something to be said for stating your premises outright, but the more subtle approach of letting part of the argument be made FOR you, by implicit means, is important both in art, criticism, and even life. And, in the future, art and criticism will be a hybrid anyway. It matters not if readers generally miss such things. It’s simply there in the book. It matters TO the book.

You say, "And, in the future, art and criticism will be a hybrid anyway." How so?

Imagine writing a short treatise on, say, the aesthetics (not simply the artistry- which is different) of John Cassavetes. You try to discuss the 'excesses' of the dialogue, the off-the-cuff nature of this or that scene or event. It works, obviously, as a descriptor, but then imagine affixing a novella to the treatise, without polemic, without needing to explain yourself, that absolutely GETS at Cassavetes's aesthetic by BEING and MIMICKING that very style- albeit in a new context, a different format, a different genre. Isn't that potentially even more lucid- even MORE explanatory? Especially if combined with a clear, logical, to-the-point evaluation of such?

Or imagine a 'history' book that is in fact a novel set 300 years into the future, which recounts the history of the world from, say, 1851 to 2015. Naturally, historians writing (or whatever they'll be doing) a few centuries hence will choose to discuss/not discuss very different items than what we might. The priorities have changed. Our needs are not theirs. Our vanities are not theirs. Yet by choosing, in 2015, what will or will not go into such a book, you are essentially writing history without resorting to common historical traditions, and by engaging in forms- such as fiction- that are normally thought of as separate from history. You don't have to say that it's what you're doing. You don't even have to state any premises. You just ACT as if you're right, and watch the rest of the cosmos align around your very will! And it's engaging- it's profound- it is different and unique and does things that NO history book can presently do due to the limits of its genre. I tire of people saying 'a novel has to be....' or 'an essay needs to be....' all the while listing 1 or 2 shackling criteria that is so dull and unimaginative. Let's do more as a species, eh?

And I can speak of this at length because I am planning these books now. Once I am mature enough to tackle them, I will become their future. Or they will become mine? The longer you do this sort of work, the hazier (and sillier!) such distinctions become. At this point, I don't even know what I'm choosing. In some cases, I've given up control- I go with the instinct- I know it will work. But such things must be honed.

Thanks for the explanation. I think this is true, and I also think criticism will move beyond just being prose (as it already has begun to, particularly with video essays) and overlapping more with filmmaking or music or theater or painting or whathaveyou. As Godard said, the best way to criticize a movie is to make a movie. Best, maybe/maybe not, but certainly an interesting way. And the idea of incorporating the material itself so that the criticism becomes a real-time dialogue with the work fascinates me more than probably any other recent development. We are entering interesting times, indeed.

I don't think much of Godard, but I'd agree with him that it's a great way to respond to something intellectually. I also think that it's part of the future.

How did your very skeptical readings of Alvy [in Annie Hall] and Isaac [in Manhattan] evolve? Was it something immediately apparent to you when you first watched the movies? For many viewers (myself admittedly included) it has often seemed that these characters' conclusions are mirrored by the films' even though you very effectively argue otherwise.

It definitely wasn’t apparent right away. You, as a male, and especially as a teenaged male, WANT to root for Alvy. Your romance might be ‘small’ at that point, but you’ve had relationships, and- if you have some sort of core- you’ve likely wondered why things turned out the way they did. And Alvy is explicitly that sort of guy: he wonders, a lot, and therefore he is you even though you’re about a generation apart. Yet what you don’t see as a young viewer is that so many of his issues are self-made, self-perpetuated, and that his bittersweet memories of his relationship are really his own fault. You don’t see it because you are probably the same way, and are using Alvy’s affability as a means of occluding your own flaws. Alvy’s a decent guy, I’d argue, but he’s manipulative and- due to his slightly self-destructive streak- is trying to keep Annie in a relationship that clearly isn’t working for HER, even though it’s resolving their mutual loneliness. But a relationship based on mutual weaknesses (as opposed to mutual strengths) is no relationship, and she realizes this earlier than Alvy does- IF, in fact, he ever does. At the end, for all of Annie’s superficiality, she’s the one who ends up growing emotionally. It may not be objectively in the best direction, but it works for her own limited purpose. And that’s because SHE is a limited person. Alvy is smarter, deeper, and more interesting. Yet he’s also lonelier, and more willing to trick himself into accepting Annie as a great partner despite the fact that she doesn’t even share some basic interests. There’s a wide gulf between personal greatness (talent, ambition, etc.) and being a good person. Alvy’s not great, but he’s certainly closer to the word than Annie. Yet Annie is the superior human being in the lighter sense of such words. I don’t see these kinds of distinctions being made often enough, yet they’re clear if you simply watch the film and look at both characters’ behaviors without self-imposed blinders.

The same applies to Isaac, albeit in slightly different ways. I’ll deal with him when I discuss Manhattan below.

Your points about Interiors not being as Bergmanesque as many make it out to be are well-taken. That said, one thing I have noticed is that some of the characters' issues - maybe particularly the mother's, though I need to see it again - seem to stem less from acute emotional pain than from a lack of emotion and a despair over awareness of this lack. I think this relates very deeply to Bergman's work, in which numerous characters articulate this exact mental state (although then again, a difference emerges in that the mother in Interiors - to my recollection - exhibits rather than articulates this condition, and may not even be aware of it). Do you have any observations about this connection and its presence elsewhere in Allen's work, alongside more expected portrayals of depression and anxiety?

I think you’re right that, on some level, they don’t really express emotion well or even at all. Yet another issue is that they’re selective about whom they express this emotion towards: Eve towards Renata, partly because Renata does not reciprocate, and Joey towards Eve, because Eve does not reciprocate. You see similar parallels elsewhere, and I’d call it a basic human reality that people are in fact drawn to those who don’t give them the attention that they deserve, but merely dangle it in front of their noses, and keep pulling it further and further away, thus creating a cycle of craving and release. They are broken people emotionally, but also existentially: they have no real purpose. Renata: do we even know if she has talent? Forget the bullshit accolades, the papers, Frederick’s envy- we have no on-screen evidence of her talent, but a lot of immature bitching that’s unbecoming of a great artist. Eve: her ‘talent’ is what, exactly? Knowing where to put a white lamp in a beige room? It seems whatever talent they DO have, it’s not enough to overcome a basic void that they all share, it doesn’t give them purpose, and we’re simply not given enough information to really get at the bottom of what that void really is. There’s just enough to latch on to in an appreciably human way (unlike with Bergman’s mediocre Cries And Whispers). And, of course, that’s perfectly alright. We make do with what these characters try to hide from us. We are capable of deductions.

It’s often missed that Allen’s artists are usually quite unsuccessful. From Manhattan to Deconstructing Harry, these guys are clowns -- not serious creators. By far the BEST artist in any of his films is Sandy Bates (Stardust Memories), who is in fact one of Allen’s healthiest characters. Yes, there’s the emotional meltdown- there’s the familiar neuroses. But keep in mind that everyone seems to be demanding something from HIM -- and it’s not all about fame or money. He has something, a ‘way’ about him, a wholeness, a strength, that they lack, and that they crave for themselves. Bates is without a doubt the closest Allen character to Woody Allen, himself, but for reasons that are 100% opposite to the childish reasons proferred by the likes of Pauline Kael and others. It is because, for all of his issues, Bates is mature, and, above all, filled with purpose. He’s made a great film- he’ll continue to make great films. He knows that art betters him, others, the world. He knows WHY he exists, despite the occasional doubts. That he doesn’t always know how to navigate this knowledge is beside the point.

As for the connection to Bergman, I think much of drama, for all directors, revolves around a basic human dilemma: that life is simple, but people are unable to navigate this simplicity- to act according to what life IS, as opposed to what they want life to be. Unless you’re dealing with sickness, hunger, poverty, and the like, life is easy. I find it hard to empathize with many Woody or Bergman characters because so many of their issues are self-made: they wreck their marriages, destroy their bodies, and hurt others because they don’t have a handle on the fact that THEY are responsible for creating their own meaning- as well as the fact that life (at least in the short term) follows a fairly rote pattern of cause and effect, thus making problems that are rather predictable. Here are people that have access to the world’s highest accomplishments- art, music, an unprecedented level of physical safety- and none of its nadirs, yet spend so much of their time on other pursuits, on neuroses. They destroy their own advantages. Yet this is pretty much inevitable, and this is where so much of the human drama subsists.

This is related to the question about Alvy and Isaac, but your presentation of the dichotomy in tone in Manhattan (between its romantic view of the city and its acerbic view of the characters) as a strength, rather than a flaw, is compelling and fresh - was this something immediately apparent to you, or did it evolve over multiple viewings and/or reflection? If the latter, what were the key moments or observations for you, in discovering the value of this tension?

It was, as with Annie Hall, something that took a little time. I first saw Manhattan as a 17 year old, and although felt it was well-executed, in a technical sense, found much of it silly- mostly because I took its representations at face value. Look closely, however, and there’s more, and if you DON’T see it, I wonder, really, what the reason is for describing it a “great” film? Look at that opening- Isaac is writing a book about New York City, yet is discussing it in the most cliched way possible. Then he’s unhappy with one cliche, and decides to write another cliche- only to settle on yet another cliche! He leaves his job to work on this piece of shit, then gets upset when he’s challenged over such immature choices? That’s just a minor part of his issues, however. The fact that he can’t write isn’t his fault. But so much else is. He strings Tracy along until he can find someone better, as he’s tired of her incapacities. He comes to accept Mary as a kind of cancer, but wishes to indulge her, anyway, due to his self-destructive streak. He jokes about his ex-wife’s accusation of attempted murder, but then goes on to admit to it in a throwaway line that most viewers usually miss. He whines about the crass stupidity and non-art of his job, but leaves it to make his own brand of non-art pretending that it’s somehow ‘better’. He discovers how much he ‘loves’ Tracy, but only after Mary dumps him, and expects her to drop all of her summer plans (booked plane tickets and all) in order to work through a dead relationship. Unbelievably, most viewers have taken the film’s last few minutes as “hope,” but really: would a smart, beautiful, mature (at least for an 18 year old) girl like Tracy end up staying with an old, manipulative neurotic after she’s actually had a real taste of life and nice boys her own age? Why would she? This is really where Manhattan works as art. The film’s inner reality- manipulation, stupidity, unfairness- is propped against its illusions of beauty and goodness. Yet most viewers just see the goodness and the hope, not the underpinnings of a Fata Morgana.

These are great observations - I had the same objections to the film as you did. But you are quite right that the critiques of Isaac's perspective are actually deeply embedded in the film itself. This was probably my favorite part of your book, and one of criticism's most exciting and underused capabilities: to take what is presented on the face of a work - the usual viewer response and/or the critically-established "conventional wisdom" - and USING WHAT IS IN THE WORK ITSELF point us to alternate, subversive readings.

I agree. In fact, I came to these realizations as I was writing the book. I didn't know HOW I'd discuss Manhattan- I was stuck, since everything I could say about it was a cliche and my instinctive feelings about the film's greatness were merely that: unhoned instinct, with no way of articulating it. That's not enough in criticism, however. So I decided to rewatch it, and everything became clear. This was the book's first great hurdle for me. Yet just think of the number of people who refuse to watch the film because of its subject matter, and are forever cut off from understanding the peculiar kind of aesthetic which you've just described, above. It's a shame- it becomes a personal lack.

Can the ability to "trick viewers into accepting its illusions," rather than forcing them to confront said illusions, be considered a flaw in an artwork?

The “trick” comes from the fact that most connoisseurs of art- especially the professorly types- are a lot less astute than they think they are. Is this Allen’s fault? The art is clearly playing on their emotions as well as their expectations, and just as Allen skewers his characters, all people, including the film-goer, can become fair game. Yet I was ‘forced’ to confront said illusions- AFTER I’d watched the film multiple times, and really had to consider what was going on underneath it. Should these conclusions have been spoon-fed to me, and confrontation inevitable from the very first viewing? If it were, I’d not have had the useful experience of figuring this out on my own, and knowing how to extrapolate this trick of deception to other works of art. (It happens A LOT; much more so than one might assume). Nor would Manhattan be a great film if it were so easy to crack, if all you needed to ‘get it’ would be to watch it once and file it away. In fact, most people do exactly this, and come away with cliched and palpably incorrect notions about Manhattan being some sort of idealization where love conquers all. But that’s not art- that’s agitprop. And it’s agitprop whether it’s a bumper-sticker for communism, or a bumper-sticker for how wonderful New York City is. Art is not a bumper-sticker. It cannot (and should not) be encapsulated into one little line or articulation. Yet life, I’d argue, is really simple, and requires capsules. Art doesn’t. The deceit is somewhere in this tension. Most are unwilling or unable to see it, and so they merely fall for it.

Not that any of this is necessarily conscious- Allen simply knows how to avoid cliches, and how to subvert these sorts of expectations as a narrative develops and characters grow. In fact, I wonder if his infamous distaste for Manhattan is in any way a feeling that others will not see the illusion as an illusion -- a poor barometer of anything, as this should not be Allen’s concern. It is the viewer’s. Fulfill your end of the bargain- making a great work of art- and let the viewer do the rest of the work. And they NEED to work, don’t they? If you, as an artist, do not expect them to, you are simply condescending to them. I’ve never seen a great work of art that didn’t trust the percipient’s intellect.

You observe that one of Zelig's themes is the lack of compassion others feel for him; even though the film itself might be seen as cold it is in fact drawing attention to the coldness of the world inside the film. Do you see an anachronistic humanism in Allen's work, and if so is it hidden (you also mention the subtle ways his films sympathize with rather than dismiss seemingly "weak" characters like Annie or Joey)?

In general, I do think that Allen empathizes with his characters- at least artistically. From interviews re: his personal experiences as a teenager becoming a part of the 1950s artistic scene, he’s said he was shocked at people’s immaturity and transparent behavior. It’s hard to say how much he feels this, personally, as there’s a big difference between personal empathy vs. an artistic one. Yet the Allen of Allen’s films is not Allen the man, but Allen the creator. It is more useful to focus on that.

Does the question of Allen's humanism (or lack thereof) interest you at all, or do you consider it incidental to his particular achievements as an artist?

Not really. It's rare that I care about an artist's philosophical, ethical, or political inclinations. I'd rather be served an INTERESTING perspective that is well-executed than one specific to this or that bent. Especially if it's poorly executed. I have very strong political, ethical, and philosophical beliefs. I know where I stand and what I am. So I don't need someone to reiterate them for me. I don't need to be told what I already know.

You mention that you don't personally like Hannah and Her Sisters but that it is not relevant to the film's worth. Perhaps not, but out of curiosity can you expand on what you dislike about it?

Perhaps some of the reason has to do with my response to your question on Bergmanian drama. The characters in Hannah do such a great job of fucking up their lives, and are even proud of it- some to the point of utter glee, at times. To watch a young, naive woman like Lee with an old, overbearing bore like Frederick is more or less watching a train wreck; to see Elliot being an awkward creep, for no real reason other than the fact that he’s never had an honest conversation with his own wife puts me on edge. Then, there’s Holly (just ugh), Hannah’s parents who fight non-stop (grow up!), David- who plays upon these women’s insecurities- and Hannah, herself, who is in some ways the most oblivious of all. You just wanna slap these people into reality.

Yet none of that is really interesting- at least not to me. The FAR more important point is that it’s a great film, a well-constructed film, a beautiful film in many respects, and one of Woody’s best. It needs to be seen and engaged with and understood despite how you might personally feel about it. And if I can write thousands of words in praise of it, despite my personal distaste, you can certainly suck it up and give it a fair look, too. The responsibility in that case is towards yourself. I despise it when people refuse to engage with a great work of art simply because it doesn’t fit their moral, emotional, aesthetic, or ideological beliefs- and especially when they become ‘apologetic’ over the fact, further doing the me-me-me thing in trying to justify their choices and continually referring to themselves as the be-all, end-all agents of such. As I wrote in Woody Allen: Reel To Real, the ‘I’ of criticism needs to be obviated as much as it’s necessary. In that way, the thing can be, well, criticism.

Your take on the conclusion of Hannah reads, to me, as more ambiguous than your take on the ending of Manhattan; that is to say, you seemed less certain that the film was condemning THEIR behavior than you did with Isaac's. (I think at one point you even mention a rare disagreement with Schneider, who sees the conclusion as explicitly critical of the characters' flaws.) This is where my own personal frustration with the film came to bear: not that the characters were unlikable - which as you note is not a flaw of the work at all - but that perhaps the film settled too easily for a happy, settled denouement whereas Manhattan's at least contained an ambiguity (even when I saw the bulk of the film as less critical of Isaac, I at least noticed this). So does the film look the other way in resolving these characters' stories or is the "happy ending" ironic? And if it's the former, does that constitute a fundamental flaw in the work, as you suggest it would for Manhattan?

It's not 100% clear, to me, that Hannah's ending is so happy. It is possible the characters are merely on the cusp of some new ruts. Holly becomes an artistic 'success' by essentially writing poorly-scripted soaps (from what we could tell). Her final line in that play which gets so praised is a naked cliche. Sure, it's possible that she presses on in life, completely talentless yet unaware, and, therefore, with nothing to puncture her bubble. I mean, she's working, right? She's making money- and that's how so many people view art. Then, there's Elliot, who- troublingly enough- acts like a complete CHILD in what appears to be his mid-40s. That he was capable of such then means he's capable of it again. Hannah's parents are singing- they look at each other and appear content. Yet we know that their earlier, vicious fight is one of many vicious fights that they've had since forever. Are they stuck in a cycle? Do 60-70 year old couples really change after a lifetime of horrific, mutually destructive habits? So I don't fully buy that it's a happy ending, although Woody, himself, does, and even complains about it. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that there's an equilibrium- a kind of contentment- even as the viewer is subtly told of potential problems down the road.

You note critics' preference for Hannah and Her Sisters over Interiors despite many similarities between the two. Why do you think they prefer it? Arbitrary as it seems, there must be a reason (albeit probably a deeply faulty one). Likewise with other similar-yet-differently-received works like Match Point/Cassandra's Dream or others.

Hannah And Her Sisters is definitely preferable to more people (including me). It is, on an unrelated note, a better film than Interiors, but it also has music -- in fact, one of Allen’s most memorable uses of music. Interiors lacks even this, while also featuring mental ills, visual darkness, hatred (done without humor), suicide, and just lots and lots of heaviness. Most people, by definition, would prefer a ‘gooier’ Hannah than a rigid Interiors, even though they are qualitatively comparable. There is no real artistic reason for preferring one over the other, merely an aesthetic one. I do not argue over aesthetics. It may come as a surprise to most people, but aesthetics, taste, and beauty are only tangential to art, even though in many cases they have historically informed one another and can continue to do so.

When you state that aesthetics are incidental to art, how do you define "aesthetic" (or which particular definition are you employing here) and what distinguishes it from "artistic"?

Aesthetics has been various defined as 'the study of beauty', or 'taste,' and the like. Sometimes, it's the technicality of an art-form- perhaps the use of meter, for example, in a poem. But beauty is certainly not art- Picasso isn't 'beautiful,' although the feeling that is engendered in us by looking at his best paintings might be termed as such. And the only time I've ever used the word 'beautiful' to refer to an art-work is in describing John Cassavetes's The Killing Of A Chinese Bookie, which is my favorite film of all time. Yet there's little inherently beautiful about it- the feeling that it creates in me, however, is so strong that I feel compelled to use it. So it needs to be used selectively (if at all) given how different the aims of art and beauty usually are.

As for 'taste,' etc., I can't argue with taste, so I don't. I have a 'taste' for Total Recall- but it's not a great film. I try to stick to terms and positions that can be debated.

As per the discussion of "happiness" in Celebrity, do you see a tug-of-war between pragmatism and idealism in Allen's work, and do you think he generally comes down on one side? His characters are often punished for idealism, yet there seems to be a certain nobility or even heroism in their persistance. Then again, that nobility may be part of the "illusion" you speak of in films like Manhattan.

I don’t agree that his characters are punished for their idealism- at least, that’s not really a trend if you look at his films more closely. Yes, in a superficial sense, both Alvy and Isaac are ‘idealists,’ but they’re also self-destructive and manipulative. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that they wish to manipulate and twist objects into their sense of idealism both at a cost to themselves as well as others. In short, their idealism is limited to themselves, and how a certain viewpoint or romantic inkling might further this romantic inkling. It simply doesn’t concern others. One can argue that Cliff in Crimes And Misdemeanors is punished while Lester, the hack, prospers, but I’ve long doubted Cliff’s intellectual AND artistic merits vis-a-vis Lester. Yes, Lester is a bad person and a poor artist, but the only bit we see of Cliff’s art is pretty bad too- it simply has a different ideological ax to grind, even if it’s nobler. Ben (the blind rabbi) certainly is not punished. He is merely oblivious from beginning to end, and is even allowed to continue to live within his bubble- in the same way we all, to some degree, co-exist within our own bubbles, axioms, and the like. Sandy Bates is without a doubt an idealist in the DEEPEST sense of the word (despite his outward show), and is rewarded with artistic greatness. Celebrity has fucked up characters all around- Lee is a permanent child, while Robin is a sellout, and even admits as much. Lee’s idealism, again, is centered around himself, while Robin’s idealism turns into an outward kind of cynicism that she can profit from.

Questions of pragmatism/idealism often miss this. How much of this idealism is in fact selfish- a means to personal gain? How much of cynicism is turned inward, to the point of self-destruction, and how much of it successfully turned outward? I don’t see very much ‘pure’ idealism in Woody’s films, except in a few, and sprinkled across a handful of characters. It’s all for the good, however, as characters have more complex motives, things that aren’t necessarily so easy to champion one way or the other. If a film forces you to root for just ONE thing, it is, generally, a failure. One needs to root for a complex in art as well as in life.

In the book you speak of "certain ceilings that, apart from completely changing the very nature of the films, will simply never be breached" (particularly about comedies or experiments like Zelig that, in fulfilling their aims, can only go so far). But would it be impossible/bad to change the very nature of a film either at some point in the narrative or even during the process of creation? In a sense this is what happened to Annie Hall behind-the-scenes, in which it was formulated as a murder mystery and then evolved into something else. But what if it happened within the finished film somehow?

If one changes the nature of a film at any one point, it means that the film, in its entirety, is changed, and that previous/future scenes need to be viewed in this context. This happens all the time- from Crimes And Misdemeanors, where a hyper-realistic killer seems on the cusp of confessing, thus confirming all that the viewer has been ‘taught’ so far- only to refuse, and in fact prosper from his refusal. This happens in Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha, where a seemingly Buddhist tale is in fact stood on its head, and turned into a Western one- to much artistic benefit. And so on. Yet if a film has ‘a’ certain nature, and it’s unaltered, and it has a ceiling, this will simply remain as is.

I would be really interested in seeing Annie Hall as it first was. The fact is, Woody Allen has not made any outright bad films until much later in his career. Editors, viewers, etc., could have spoken as they wished on the original Annie Hall, but given what I’ve discovered of fans, critics, and even great artists, themselves, there is NO formula for becoming a good judge of artistic matters. You can be a great film scholar but suck at evaluation. You can be a great editor but a terrible writer. And, shockingly, having access to great art doesn’t seem to increase the chances of being able to recognize great art. It simply makes it POSSIBLE. The original Annie Hall can pretty much be anything, really, except- and I say this as a half-jest- what it’s been said to be.

Do you see the role of good criticism as purely defensive/negative - to counteract bad criticism? Would there be a need for good criticism if bad criticism did not exist?

It is both. Good criticism needs to show what truly happens in a work of art. This ability is rare, and if one has it, I’d hope that it would be used to counteract and name, BY name, all the bad criticism out there without pussyfooting around. If bad or mediocre criticism did not exist, I see two possibilities: that there’d be only good criticism, or that the arts are simply not taken seriously enough to be discussed. One of these would be unfortunate, and the other, impossible.

Why do you feel it's important to single out bad criticism (particularly by name - of the critic, I presume) when offering good criticism?

It is important because most people can't differentiate good from bad to begin with, and are liable to get confused. If I write Reel To Real, and argue my positions effectively, then someone else reads Kael or Rosenbaum, and says, Ah- more good arguments!- there is a real confusion at the root, for there is virtually NO synthesis that can come of our works. They are literally irreconcilable. If you believe your positions are correct, this does- at least to a strong degree- naturally and logically exclude other positions. I say Woody is a great artist; Rosenbaum calls him a hack. We can't BOTH be right. I write that Manhattan is clearly an illusory world. Rosenbaum takes the illusions at face value. Again- we can't both be right. To point out the obvious is useful- to explain error is useful. Yet no one wants to call others out for fear of endangerment, or being thought of as 'difficult,' or 'arrogant,' or whatever, so they think of all these reasons why a critic sucks, or an artist sucks, but then keep their mouths shut out of cowardice. It's not about principles with them. It's about 'getting along'. Name names! Tell the world like it is! I need to live with principles, mostly because I believe in art, and find that there's so much damaging it from so many directions. More than anything, I want to make room for the future- I want to be REPLACED. You don't hear that in criticism, really- you only hear the ego. 'I think this, I think that.' But I think what I think and argue what I argue because I want to do BETTER than these other guys, so that the future has an example of something great, something indelible, that THEY could use to build something even greater. As much as I'm unimpressed by Homer, Catullus, Properties, and all these other classics, the fact is, WE needed THEM to become who we are today- to be better, smarter, deeper. I'm sorry, but that's the way of the world, baby! So let the dunces fall- hell, let even the greats fall, in time, so that the future can BREATHE!

To return to the larger point, you state that "Cries and Whispers is without a doubt one of Bergman's lesser outings" but a great many critics, perhaps the majority, do doubt this, ranking it as one of his best. At the risk of indulging bad faith (an inherent risk of any criticism-of-criticism) what do you think they are misunderstanding about the work, or rather what are they unfairly adding to it to elevate it so high?

I didn’t realize Cries And Whispers was so highly rated until I started doing research for the book. I can list many flaws in the film, from the melodramatic, hamfisted, too-obvious use of color (red, red, red everywhere- down to even the transitions!), to the way you’re forced into a mess of never-explained hatreds and odd sexuality, which- while this might have been bolstered by some character strengths in a better film- is instead expressed in ways that aren’t even recognizably human. The film’s characters are, for the most part, cardboard cutouts with only a pretense of psychological depth, always hitting against one another, and occasionally drawing blood. Yet they’re cardboard- so why should the viewer even care about the blood? Where’s the deeper connection- to anything, really? In short, there’s nothing really ‘human’ to attach oneself to. The ‘people’ of Cries And Whispers aren’t people, but automatons who go through the motions of cruelty and evil and death, in overly florid manner and speech, with no history of interest, no present of interest, and, therefore, no future of interest. A film without a future is not a film. It is locked purely into itself- it does not refer to the world at large. It is merely reflexive and self-involved. Diddle all you want with the ornate details and endless little puzzles (for they’re there- I’m not denying this), but this isn’t really art. It is merely a sum of technicalities that doesn’t really have much reason to exist except for the act of poring over one masochistic afternoon. There’s no real pay-off. One might as well do a crossword puzzle on local political trivia in 1872 Frankfort.

I have seen Cries and Whispers twice and neither time has it transported me as I expected it to, the way many other Bergman films do. When I trace the source of my reactions, or non-reactions, I come to many of the same conclusions as you. (I admire the film's precision, but I can't detect in it the capacity to move). That said, I'm still not sure I understand what other critics are seeing there - either that they are imposing, or that I am missing - which leads them to celebrate it so highly. Is it possible there is an additional layer to the film which you and I are missing, which would "unlock" the movie and clarify its achievement? Are we the children who see that the emperor has no clothes, or inhabitants of the land of the blind, who think that those who claim to see are lying? It's a fascinating question to me.

Sure, it's possible we're not seeing something, but one can draw these hypotheticals about literally anything. The problem is, for all of the vague praise, I haven't seen a single GOOD argument for why it's a great film. There's only, 'Oh the sisters,' or 'Oh the color' - or 'Oh, those aging teats...' Until the critics can come up with something better, I just can't wallow in insecurity, and assume the fault's somehow with me. You and I made some pretty good arguments for the film's lacks. Until they are dismantled, it is illogical to assume that we're somehow in the wrong, or else what's an argument for? To be indecisive means, too often, to be inactive- to be unable to commit. And it usually comes from a problem within.

I don't mean to harp on this particular film at all, I just think it's an interesting example of a larger phenomenon: where exactly the viewer derives the experience of greatness in a work and to what extent a sober, objective analysis can detect its sources. Also, in the book your criticisms of negative critiques are very effective and detailed, while your criticisms of positive critiques tend to be more diffuse and even admittedly baffled (more than once you ask "Why were the critics praising this when they attacked THAT?" without really being able to provide an answer). Do you think an understanding of critical over-evaluation is possible?

Negative critiques of great works tend to 'get' to me more, so perhaps that's why. Yet, to be fair, if I'm negatively critiquing a film, I usually provide tons of evidence, tons of cliches, tons of loose ends, so that any positive praise, by contrast, just looks ridiculous to most readers. Usually, a positive critique of a terrible film is really vague to begin with, since what the hell are they gonna praise, anyway? The second a critic decides to prop up a terrible line as an example of great dialogue, the argument looks weak, and so the critic ignores it and tries to rationalize his personal taste in some other way. Sometimes, I don't even know WHERE to begin when dissecting such reviews, for I'm given nothing to even argue against.

Critical over-evaluation is probably best understood as a function of 1) personal taste, which is hard to define/guess at, 2) the milieu. Why is Geoffrey Chaucer still considered a great writer? He's not- he's a bore, more or less- but he's truly important, historically, and was absolutely needed for some of his better descendants. So it's hard to let him go for reasons that have nothing to do with art. But art is a great rationalization for latching on to something, isn't it? Art, being an illusion, can be a great way to deceive oneself. I think on some level this is what happens again and again.

To clarify I had in mind Ebert's review of the film, which is obviously the product of a deep, rapturous engagement with the work (and is written as such, hence as you say it is hard to dispute), akin to something I personally would feel with a work of David Lynch or with Robert Altman's 3 Women. Or, for that matter, certain viewings of Persona. But I didn't feel that the two times I watched Cries & Whispers many years ago. I'm fascinated by the question of whether Ebert simply applied his own personal feelings onto a film which hadn't really done much to earn them or if he detected a unique quality inherent in the work itself. I would not want to dismiss my own responses but I'm also well-aware that such responses have changed over time, and that I've been similarly affected by films which other critics didn't "get."

Roger Ebert is notorious for imbuing his own emotions into his criticism, sometimes to his detriment. In fact, look at this long piece that Ebert did on Dan Schneider a while back- he admits this.

As for his review of C&W... look at that first line. "Selfless love"- where? He begins with a critique of the film not so different from what we've both said, but then posits this 'selfless love' as a counterpoint which he never goes on to justify nor explain. He goes on to mention Karin's cutting, then blood-smearing, as if it's a boon to the film- yet, again, it is never explained how this odd little scene even works. It is simply done via fiat. He writes that most of the characters are uniformly blase- evil, hurt, suffering, etc., yet passes this off as a positive, again without explanation. He praises the use of color, but ignores how obvious the symbolism is- how badly it simply wants to hit you over the head. He talks of dream sequences, a possible reconciliation, etc., but never really attempts to analyze the characters themselves- he knows there's nothing there, save for a handful of short scenes. (Look at his comment re: 'some deep wound'- it is really a blank slate, from beginning to end.) Yes, I'm sure he's seen the film many times, and engaged with it at length, but this doesn't really come out in the review. He doesn't articulate this engagement even if, again, it happens to be a well-written review. Unless someone can really point out where we err, and respond to our specific critiques, I just don't see a reason to revise my opinion.

Luis Bunuel is another example of this: he is described in terms that suggest the critic is undergoing a disorienting, dreamlike experience but his films seem rather lucid and plain to me. I enjoy them well enough but they don't affect me on the deep level of Blood of a Poetor Meshes of the Afternoon or Mulholland Drive. I truly believe that one is going to just be scraping the surfaces of those films if they don't feel anything in response to them, so likewise I'm hesitant to be too dismissive of an artist that people whose honesty and perception I trust have a similar reaction to. When I've read vitriolic beside-the-point criticism of, say, Fire Walk With Me - in which the critic has clearly missed the central emotional phenomenon of the movie and thus hasn't truly engaged with it - it has made me boiling mad. So I try to avoid falling into that trap myself!

 I feel the same way about Bunuel. Have you ever seen Belle de Jour? Dan's review of it really does articulate, quite nicely, why so much of it fails- even as parts of the film may be good. I think this is a good metaphor for Bunuel, as a whole.

My suspicion is that you have good artistic instincts, yet the clear consensus around you makes it difficult to accept them. I know the feeling, since I recall always scratching my head as a teen at poetry journals that would praise this or that bad work, making me feel my judgment was somehow the error- not theirs. But what's a consensus, anyway? A 'coming-together'? Yet so is a mob. So is everything else that doesn't quite belong.

At the same time of course honest criticism owes it to the reader to offer the critic's own reservations, doubts, and lack of an experience as, if nothing else, another voice in the mix. I just do it with the thought in my head that I may be missing something. This could be applied to all works of art, in theory, but there are certain films where I can detect that possibility much more strongly than in others; it isn't just a matter of other critics offering a contrary point - usually the work itself clues me in to hidden layers even if I'm not responding to them.

Anyway, this treads more into the territory of avant-garde and/or abstract art. Though I wouldn't necessarily call him avant-garde and I certainly wouldn't call him abstract, I would certainly view Cassevetes as closer to these areas of necessary emotional engagement with Allen. So I'd really be keen to read your work on him in the future, and see how you apply a different framework and approach to his oeuvre.

Is there anything else you would like to address, about yourself, Allen, or the book, that hasn't been covered?

Remember that Woody Allen: Reel To Real is a tool, and Woody Allen is its specimen. Every answer that I gave, above, can be extrapolated to some other artistic question yet still remain consistent. As Dan Schneider says, great artists (of any genre, medium, or time period) have more in common with each other than lesser artists in the same field. If you can truly come to understand what this means, you have a key not only to the arts, but to the cosmos and the sort of patterns it engenders.

Thanks for this interview, Joel. I very much enjoyed the questions.
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True Detective season 2 episode 8 - "Omega Station"

August 11, 2015, 7:00 am
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This True Detective viewing diary is being written while the new series airs. As such, future readers need not worry: there are no spoilers for upcoming episodes.

The first season of True Detective used the hook of its plot to lure viewers into what was essentially a character study. The finale - despite many loose ends - essentially maintained this facade, hinging its climax around the discovery and confrontation with the killer whose gruesome crime opened the series. We lingered with the characters after this climax passed, allowing the season to close on their personal rather than professional resolutions but Pizzolatto maintained a balance between resolving the mystery and emphasizing the narrative arc of the heroes. The second season of True Detective, whose plot has been far more byzantine, tips this balance emphatically toward the characters: rather than lead us further into the intrigue, they essentially become its focal point. This is achieved by dumping answers early in the episode but also by the general, diffuse nature of the conspiracy so that it eventually seems less important for itself than for the threat it provides to our three remaining protagonists. The result is a satisfying, fast-paced, and fairly engrossing ninety minutes - flawed to be sure, but correct in its priorities.

As we solve the mystery, we quickly realize how little it ever mattered. Unlike season 1, which introduced Dora Lange's disturbingly posed body at the start of the pilot, season 2 took its sweet time discovering the mutilated corpse of Ben Caspere. The investigation into his murder provided the (often lumbering) plot momentum for the first half of the series, but by episode 5 it was clear that the detectives' (and Semyon's) concern was less to figure out who offed the corrupt city official than to expose the powerful machinery that had chewed them up and spit them out. Pizzolatto throws the audience a bone by confirming that Caspere's secretary and her brother (whom several astute viewers correctly predicted would be the movie set photographer) killed Caspere, but the revelation glides past us casually. There's a pinch of satisfaction when we see that raven's mask again but it's fleeting; by this point the show has made it abundantly clear that "Who killed Ben Caspere?" was only the barest whisper of a MacGuffin. Velcoro and Bezzerides don't really care, and neither do we. Not long after that, the killers themselves have been dispensed with and the show keeps chugging along - if Rust Cohle described the victim as "chum in the water" in season 1, this time it's the killers who serve that role.

What's far more surprising, however, is how little the bigger picture matters - before long, the accumulated evidence of statewide corruption, Holloway's admission that he worked for Tony Chessani, Frank's vendetta against Osip, the lurking bad cop who is the closest thing to season 2's Big Bad (but whose name I can't even remember!), all slip into the shadows. Having assembled these pieces for eight episodes, Pizzolatto now uses them as an effectively dramatic backdrop. If Caspere's death was an excuse to reveal the corruption, then the corruption itself is an excuse to provide a struggle for the characters: MacGuffins all the way down. There was an uncertainty in season 1 whether Cohle and Hart were our guides into a meditation on the evils of religious fanaticism, elite power, and sexual exploitation, or if the themes served as a compelling backdrop against which to examine these two twisted yet ultimately honorable detectives. But there is no such confusion this time, especially after Velcoro and Semyon waste most of their opponents in a woodland massacre. We still have half of the episode to go at that point, and while the broader conspiracy remains the characters are free to escape, mission accomplished. That they don't and that it isn't has less to do with what they're up against than with who they are inside.

The finale tips its hand immediately with its two slow burning, intimate opening scenes. The first reveals Velcoro and Bezzerides post-coitus, as they each discuss their painful traumas (continuing the trend from episode 6, Bezzerides' abuse is handled respectfully and compellingly, as she confesses her feelings of confusion and neediness as a lonely child, and how these were manipulated by the man who took her into the woods). Though I wasn't particularly pleased to see them hook up at the end of episode 7, this finale goes a long way toward making me believe their love. The show was wise to establish their mutual respect before capitalizing on their attraction, and it gives their relationship a strong core. The second scene unites Semyon and his wife Jordan one last time; with some occasional lapses, their marital bond has probably been one of the stronger elements of his storyline throughout the season. Somehow the actors sell us on the gritty devotion these characters share (an analog, in a way, to Velcoro's and Bezzerides' grim, pained bond). But when Semyon plans a rendezvous in Venezuala, complete with a white suit and a rose in his lapel, we just know he won't make it.

I'm not sure when I was certain Velcoro would die too, although it's been a distinct possibility all along. Something about his farewell to Semyon signals his fate, and sure enough on the way back to Bezzerides he succumbs to paternal temptation and drives past his son's school to pay a visit. When he returns to the car he notices a tracking device and before long we discover the show's biggest spoiler was embedded in the series itself: just as Velcoro's father predicted way back in that near-death dream, he is chased and executed amongst tall trees. Semyon meanwhile is undone by the Mexican gangsters, whose leader has been the most consistently threatening villain since he was introduced in episode 5. And so the two characters march into their inevitable demise: Velcoro in the forest, Semyon in the desert, with the second half of the episode devoted to their long death rattle. It makes for surprisingly gripping television - surprising because it flirts with cliche, convenience, and portentous self-importance at every turn, and also because the season had so much trouble investing us in these characters (Woodrugh, for example, barely registers as a memory after getting plugged last time). But it works.

Credit is at least partly due to the performers; Colin Farrell and Vince Vaughn really dug their heels in to carve deeply-felt individuals out of the silly dialogue and aimless plots that often encumbered them. Reading more about season 1, it becomes clear that Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson (and the ally they had in director Fukunaga) resisted the suffocatingly somber tone set by Pizzolatto and elevated his material by adding new dimensions to it. Farrell and Vaughn, operating under Pizzolatto as unquestioned showrunner, couldn't go in that direction and maybe they didn't want to. Instead they fully commit to the grim, humorless, self-pitying tone inherent in the material and dignify the characters through the intensity of this commitment and the grace that comes with embracing rather than resisting their burden. However, this is important too: the characters don't just work in spite of Pizzolatto, they also work because of him.

I've been pretty rough on his work this season, and with good reason. Going into a show that was not guided by one director, I expected the inconsistency and flatness of a less cinematic production, but I did not expect the storytelling to be so uneven. This was essentially a four or five episode show stretched out to eight, but maybe more than that it was a novelistic conception upon which the serialized format felt forced. I didn't buy the story beats, which often felt like echoes of season 1 (ok, fourth episode, time for a climactic action sequence; fifth episode needs the investigation to reboot) rather than organic developments. And unlike season 1, with its palpable Southern Gothic atmosphere, season 2's stylistic ambitions - whether genuflecting toward Michael Mann, David Lynch, or a more general neo-noir ambience - always seemed just out of reach. Again, that comes down to direction (with the only real exception being the masterfully-handled episode 6) - whose disappointments Pizzolatto was responsible for, as self-designated showrunner. But this also comes down to his inelegant plotting which simply couldn't provide any true surprises. Mixing all of these shortcomings with the author's typically humorless, morbid sensibility was a recipe for dissatisfaction.

And yet. I think Pizzolatto's greatest strength is his deep-seated belief in his characters, his interest in them, and his completely unironic attachment to sensitively representing - and respecting - their worldview. Semyon should by all means have been a goofy gangster "type," especially with the unusually-cast Vaughn playing the part. In a story often sharply attuned to moral ambiguity and unsentimental violence, here was the quintessential thief with honor, seemingly wandered into this semi-realistic world from an old B-movie. But you know who believes in this character? Frank Semyon himself, and therefore Pizzolatto believes in him too, and so do we. For all the familiar conventions Pizzolatto utilizes to portray Semyon's downfall, at the core is a character he cares about, whose emotional crisis is not just a narrative device but a deeply-felt principle, vulnerability, and determination communicated, however imperfectly, from the creator to the audience.

Likewise with Velcoro, the well-meaning but deadbeat dad we've all seen before, who nonetheless feels like a fully-fleshed human being as his travails are charted over nearly nine hours. And finally, Bezzerides (whom I'll address further in a moment), whose vulnerability was only matched by her stridency, a chip-on-her-shoulder stubbornness that at times felt like the writer's most confessional touch. Pizzolatto wears his heart on his sleeve, and frustrating as his attachment to certain types and tropes can be, I'll take the sincerity of that attachment over a more polished but cynical approach any day.

I really enjoyed this episode (second only to episode 6), especially the second half as the series honed in what clearly concerns Pizzolatto the most and probably should have remained his focus throughout: the almost self-fulfilling yet noble doom of these two exhausted, encumbered, but ultimately honest men. The touches that worked for me: Velcoro's MacMurphy-at-the-hospital-window indecisiveness as he turns off the highway to visit his son; surprisingly, that last salute to the boy, a moment as potentially corny as anything in the series yet handled with subtle applomb by the actors and director, earned against all odds; Semyon's downfall due not to the elites who've always disrespected him, but to striving up-and-comers as hungry as he himself once was; the suit being one step too far, the last assault on Semyon's dignity that he simply won't take; the unapologetic bravado of his deadly trek, no nonsense and no self-pity, buzzards patiently waddling in his blood behind him; the effectively blunt, boldly obvious gesture of having a vision of his wife tell him he died several feet back, with a Twilight Zone-esque frisson (though I could have done without the ambiguity-shattering shot of him collapsing at the end, as if to ensure us that we hadn't been shown anything actually supernatural); and all the quieter moments leading up to this point, the slowly-dawning close-ups and trapped-in-the-emptiness long shots of the two doomed souls, who know they are doomed, whom we know are doomed, but who for this moment are still alive and able to ponder their fates.

The episode is directed by John Crowley, whose work on episode 5 I was very ambivalent about. I felt he handled visual sequences really well (and sure enough, he astutely paces "Omega Station"'s quieter stretches), but that the performances in that episode were the worst of the season. There are still some awkward, clunky moments here but he now has a much stronger grasp on what these performers can and should do with these roles. His use of a back-and-forth crosscutting chronology for Bezzerides' and Velcoro's bedroom confessions (an approach whose most obvious precedent is Don't Look Now's fractured lovemaking) is an unusually bold flourish for True Detective and if it feels slightly forced at times, it also effectively conveys a disoriented mood which sets the right one for the episode. The next scene, with the Semyons, is far more straightforward and feels if anything too theatrical (several conversations in this episode, and in this season, have that stilted stand-and-recite quality) but it glides by on the integrity of the actors and benefits from the intriguing rhythmic contrast with its predecessor. Elsewhere, Crowley has a deft handle on suspense and action, with the train station's fucked-up shootout being a particular highlight.

My biggest complaint about episode 8 is Ani Bezzerides, or rather the lack thereof, and I probably won't be alone in this. There has been an uneasiness in her characterization all season - on the one hand (as I mentioned above) there are times when Pizzolatto seems to be deeply invested in her story, in which she almost seems like the most personal character for him because her emotional scars and desperation are allowed to show in a way the other characters' are not (wounded machismo can be as much a disguise as an expression of a male author's sensibility). On the other hand, she's shadowed by the recognition that Pizzolatto was criticized in season 1 for mostly ignoring female perspectives. As a result, she has sometimes felt like an obligation, even a burden, for the writer. The show seems to breathe a little easier when it allows itself to sideline her and focus almost entirely on Semyon's and Velcoro's archetypal antiheroism, weaving a grand tragedy of two male martyrs to their own codes of honor.

But this is also unfair to Bezzerides, whose backstory is as compelling as theirs, whose needs are just as demanding, and whose capabilities and determination are possibly even greater. McAdams sells Bezzerides' demure acceptance of Velcoro's chivalry, as she sold everything she was asked to sell this season, but she and the character deserved better. If Pizzolatto is going to allow more women into his morbid men's club in the future (and maybe he shouldn't if it feels so unnatural for him) he's going to have to accept them as equals in their own distinct way, and he's going to have to truly care about their stories the way he clearly cares about Semyon and Velcoro (Woodrugh is another story, and I still can't figure out why he wasn't written out of an earlier draft). It really shouldn't be that tough, considering how the last few episodes - after some hesitant, withdrawn characterization - truly invested in Bezzerides as a rich, resonant person, not just a self-conscious sop for feminist complaints. She's a step in the right direction, but also a stumble, and her triumphal exit as the bearer of the flame is a tad condescending - I suspect a lot of her fans are going to feel burnt by this treatment.

Going into tonight's episode, and even to a certain extent coming out, I presumed that I would not be in any rush to see season 3. I'm very glad I watched this season as it unfolded - it was fun to participate in this kind of live-viewing phenomenon, something unusual for me as I mostly catch up with TV shows after the fact. But I don't have a burning desire to rewatch the season and it's not an experience I feel much need to repeat next year. Nonetheless, writing down my reactions to season 2 of True Detective, analyzing its flaws and strengths, I realize that I'm more appreciative of Pizzolatto's vision than I thought, even if he does mangle the execution. I've often bemoaned the lack of a strong collaborator, but maybe what he really needs is to work these issues out for himself, to figure out how to better balance his excesses and push himself harder to find better solutions (this season really feels like an early draft rushed into production, which could have benefited from several more rewrites). Or maybe it's just in his nature to stubbornly trek on alone into noble failure, like Frank Semyon in the desert, drawing strength from the birds of prey nipping at his heels and embracing the dawning realization that he's never going to reach that horizon but that he's gonna decide how he goes. Even as I shake my head, I can kind of salute that.



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Neon Genesis Evangelion, Episode 14 - "Weaving a Story"

August 12, 2015, 7:00 am
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This series is an episode guide to the Japanese anime television show Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995 - 96) and the spin-off films. Each entry includes my own reflection on the episode, followed by a conversation with fellow blogger Bob Clark (Murderous Ink will return next week).

In many ways, this feels like a filler episode: re-using previous footage, retracing past events, attaching several disjointed sequences, and limiting the central dramatic crisis to a few minutes of screentime. Even the ending - Unit-00 marching down a long corridor with the never-before-mentioned "Lance of Longinus" - initially strikes us as a non sequitur. Certainly this has less of a narrative throughline than any of the earlier chapters, especially considering the last few episodes were settling into the groove of "standalone adventures with our Eva pals."

And yet the episode serves a subtle and effective purpose, consolidating the ground we've covered and re-contextualizing it as part of a grander narrative. Indeed, the ominous overlords of SEELE, and the only-slightly-less-ominous Cmdr. Gendo Ikari, repeatedly refer to a "script" - suggesting that there is a much bigger story in play, but also that the storytellers themselves have lost the thread. After all, both SEELE and Vice Cmdr. Fuyutsuki refer to events going off-script. Only Cmdr. Ikari seems confident in the direction of recent events. This may be the most disconcerting fact of all. For the first time in a while, we are getting the sense that beyond the battle-to-battle concerns of our main characters, a deadly clock is ticking.

We open in businesslike fashion with a long overview of all previous Angel battles - basically a highlight reel cutting out most of the human drama and focusing exclusively on what maneuvers and strategies were employed to defeat the enemy. From this perspective, the Evas have a kind of brute majesty and mechanical efficiency: only a few moments emphasize the pilots within. Turns out we are in a SEELE meeting, as the sketchy-looking elite society presses Cmdr. Ikari for answers. They are particularly concerned about the last Angel attack, in which a hyper-intelligent computer virus nearly destroyed the Magi computer system. But a cocky Ikari simply denies such an attack occurred.

Meanwhile, NERV headquarters is running a routine operation - switching the pilots around so they can test their synchronicity with various Evas. (Asuka is forced to stay in Unit-02 and seems a bit hurt by this confinement; Misato ominously reflects that she is not interchangeable like the others). Then Unit-00 goes berserker with Shinji inside, punching the glass window of the command center. It looks like the Eva is trying to kill its blue-haired pilot, but Ritsuko seems convinced that its actual target was not Rei, but Ritsuko herself.

Why would the Eva target Ritsuko? What are the Evas? What is SEELE's plan? Who else knows about it? As Asuka essentially asks, what's with Rei? And why does Rei's Eva react so strongly to Shinji's presence (and vice-versa)? Flailing about in a violent fury, gripping its head in agony with lanky arms, this supposedly mechanical giant demonstrates a very fluid, human physicality. Full of vaguely disturbing images and eerie suggestions, "Weaving a Story" sets us up well for the last, long sustained stretch of the series. The fragile external composition of NERV and the even more fragile internal compositions of the pilots will both begin to unravel.


Conversation with Bob Clark

me: I kind of enjoyed watching the first half of this, like a highlight reel.
It was interesting to see the battles presented not as a mix of human emotion and technological prowess, but simply as exercises in brute force by powerful machines.

Bob: Yeah, basically a corporate briefing synopsis of the basic facts, ignoring the human cost. The way every battle is capped with "Angel Defeated", it's a rubber stamp. Very bureaucratic. A good way to really inject the psychology of SEELE into the series. Not bad for what's basically a clip-show assembled from existing material.

me: There were some really effective images & moments in the 2nd half though.
Particularly that really creepy shot where Rei is floating towards Shinji in his mind - and then her eyes bug out. But also her own weird inner vision.

Bob: Yeah. But except for the the floating-Rei and the last image of Unit 00 with the lance of longinus, I think they're all repurposed sequences or new animation from already existing cels. The most obvious part is when Unit 00 is attacking Rei-- it's obviously the same cels as from when it attacked Gendo, but with Rei put in his place. It shows how some of the experimental tone of the series was dictated by the cost-cutting-- it's very effective to come up with a psychological nightmare sequence like what you have in the second half with existing material. It would've been much harder to string an entire, normal episode around that.

me: Why did they take that approach - to reserve more budget for upcoming episodes? It's funny because I tend to like that stuff more.

Bob: Partly. I think a big part of it is they could afford to have a clip show in the middle, and recap the events for everyone. The fact that they come up with a good narrative reason (SEELE's briefings) helps it feel more nuanced than the typical anime compilation. But some of the experimental stuff-- maybe most of it even-- was borne out of Anno's sensibilities as a whole. You can see weird, avant-garde stuff in Gunbuster and Nadia, as well. In the next couple of episodes we'll see that experimental side of him come out much more in the concrete events of the show (Splitting of the Breast and beyond), so the budget concerns aren't what created that side of the show. Rather, it's more that the experimental side was something Anno could resort to.

me: What usually happened when anime shows faced budget constrictions? Why did NGE face these? 

Bob: I really don't know. I think there's documentation about it on evageeks. One usual thing that can happen when a show faces budget constrictions-- you get shitty animation farmed out to another team, another studio, under another director. That's what happened on Nadia, Anno's previous show-- it got so popular the broadcaster increased the episode order, but Anno didn't have the time or money to oversee the additional episodes himself. The end result of which is they aren't terribly good.

me: What do you make of the interchangeability tests? Obviously from a budgeting perspective, they are easier to do then new battle scenes, but thematically and narratively there is something compelling about them as well. For one thing, it increases our sense of Asuka as the odd one out.

Bob: Yeah. It's also an odd thing because the past few episodes have been emphasizing the connectivity between the kids, especially Shinji and Asuka (their high synch rates, their performance in the dance episode, etc). Even the way Asuka is shot here-- staring at her ceiling in bed-- shows her as being on the same wavelength as him. But they have a chemistry that can get aggressive (and usually is, outside of a mission), whereas Shinji and Rei have the unspoken mother/son bond (well, it sort of IS spoken here, but only as a snide joke from Asuka).

me: The Shinji-Asuka chemistry is based on them being two different people - it's that hedgehog thing. Which might not normally be a problem, but w/ 2 very insecure adolescents from fucked-up family backgrounds in the middle of a life & death struggle with not just their fates but that of the world in the balance...the idea of negotiating personal differences is potentially a dealbreaker.
And with all the weird stuff going on - the pseudo-religious subtext of SEELE's oversight, the still not-quite-understood connection between Eva & pilot, even that strange ending with Rei's Unit marching down the corridor carrying "the Lance of Longinus"...it's only natural that Shinji's connection to Rei comes more to the forefront and Asuka begins to fall by the wayside.

Bob: It's not that Asuka falls to the wayside here-- but rather, as you said, he and Asuka are both separate people. Or rather-- they're both actual people, and Rei is so submissive and mysterious we never really know what the deal is with her. She's non-threatening and non-assertive to the extreme, which means she's not going to push any of her needles into Shinji. She doesn't have any. She's an ideal Eva partner, but as we saw in previous episodes, there can't be any real personal connection with her.
No risk, no reward.

me: I'll have to re-watch these upcoming episodes to be sure, but I feel like there IS a deep connection with her, it's just more spiritual and metaphysical, than here & now. I see his relationships with Asuka & Rei fulfilling very different - but equally important - needs for him. Asuka helps (or challenges) him connect to other people, Rei helps him connect to himself.
What do you make of Cmdr. Ikari's defiance of SEELE here? How does it relate to what we've seen in recent episodes?

Bob: We've seen some implicit hints that Ikari and the others at NERV don't completely trust SEELE (the blackout episode). He's hiding the truth of the last Angel's infection of the Magi, hoping to keep his part in the ongoing Instrumentality plans secure so he can repurpose them to his own ends. If SEELE thinks he can't handle NERV, someone else gets the position and he loses his chance to gain his goal.

me: Remind me what happened in the blackout episode to demonstrate distrust.

Bob: Ikari and others, I think, make oblique comments about how some mysterious "they" were sabotaging the Geo-Front during an Angel attack. Somebody even says-- "the first real infiltration of the Geo Front wasn't from an Angel, but from one of our own kind". That's clearly SEELE.

me: Right.
As for them firing Gendo...
Who else would they trust with NERV though? It seems part of his comfort in lying to them stems from a sense of job security.

Bob: Partly. But if they ever had concrete proof that he was lying, it would mean his job security is a lot less.

me: They're playing a high-stakes game where neither can really afford to push the other too far it seems.

Bob: They "need" him, yes. But they also probably have a plan on the books that makes allowances for him being gone.
As for "firing"-- he'd probably just be executed and replaced by somebody like Fuyutski or Ritsuko, somebody they think they can control.
I mean, some things aren't quite clear. It's hinted occasionally that SEELE might be behind the Angel attacks themselves, so it's a little like trying to figure out what Palpatine would've done if somebody had ended the Clone Wars early. That's what plan B's are for.

me: Yeah I guess I meant "firing" figuratively haha.
Or maybe all-too-literally...
That's another thing about this episode - too what extent have we really seen them describe a "plan" and a "script" before?
Because it's pretty explicit this time.

Bob: Well, the second episode lays out some of it, I think. They flat out tell him the Angel attacks, which could destroy the world, are secondary to this other plan they have on the books.

me: Well, but in this one they make it seem as if the Angel attacks are actually an integral part of the plan they have on the books. So it becomes less a matter of secondary motives than actually knowing/controlling what's happening before it happens.

Bob: Right. We're seeing the false-flag, illusionary aspect of the Angel battles, here. It is very much the same kind of Palpatinian "all according to plan" logic. Which is to say-- all it does is underline the idea that "these guys are the REAL villains of the story".

me: Another ominous note - Ritsuko's comment that Eva-00 was trying to kill her, not Rei.
It kind of makes us look back on that image of Rei standing calmly at the window almost less as a matter of defying a threat than commanding an act.

Bob: Also, her mention of the dummy system. Seed planted here.

me: That went over my head, I was thinking it was just some jargon about the Eva. But yeah, that makes sense.

Bob: You could also say that the lance of longinus thing and how mysterious it is stands as a deepening of the "Angel battles as part of some arcane ritual" aspect. It's literalizing what they're talking about.

me: I was going to ask you to decode Ritsuko's fairly cryptic comment about that objection to the dummy system. But it seems less cryptic in the english dubbing than the japanese translation.
Basically telling her, "You'll get your hands dirty like the rest of us sooner or later, and moral objections won't matter much at that point."

Bob: Pretty much.

Visit Bob Clark's website NeoWestchester, featuring his webcomic as well as a new animated video related to Star Wars.

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True Detective season 2 episode 3 - "Maybe Tomorrow"

July 9, 2015, 7:00 am
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This True Detective viewing diary is being written while the new series airs. As such, future readers need not worry: there are no spoilers for upcoming episodes.

There is a certain mordant self-awareness to this episode's title, though it would be better called "Maybe Next Week." After the anticipation-charged debut of episode 1 and the memorable close of episode 2, episode 3 feels very much like a placeholder. In this it resembles "Who Goes There" from season one, with a crucial difference. That chapter of the investigation embraced its episodic function by telling a standalone story in the midst of its ongoing saga (in that case, Rust Cohle's infiltration of a biker gang, culminating in a memorable heist). I was frustrated by this decision at the time, wishing that the show would continue to focus on the big picture. But in retrospect, that approach is preferable to merely treading water, as "Maybe Tomorrow" does. The last line of the episode is that very title, as if the characters themselves know they haven't made much progress in learning who killed Ben Caspere - or, more importantly, hinting at why we should care.

The stakes of last week are almost instantly lowered, as most of us probably suspected they would be. Velcoro is not dead; he was sprayed with buckshot either as a warning or perhaps to make a show for the camera taping him while he "died." That camera, and the drive connected to it, were stolen while Velcoro was passed out, and he seems obsessed by what else they may have captured inside this possible snuff film studio. Velcoro, already souring on his corruption at the end of "Night Finds You" is now openly defiant of Semyon and less committed than ever to the police culture of Vinci. He begs to be taken off the job and is hesitant to sell out Bezzerides when his police press him for clues; likewise, while she calls him a "burnout" Bezzerides does not seem particularly keen on exposing him to her authorities (one of whom presses her to seduce information from him).

By the end of the episode Velcoro and Bezzerides' emerging camaraderie proposes an interesting twist on last season's buddy formula, both a repetition - like Cohle and Hart, working conditions subtly bond together these two very different people - and a variation - because unlike Cohle and Hart, Velcoro and Bezzerides aren't really being forced to get along; their bosses would actually rather they didn't. This is, so far, the most compelling angle True Detective season 2 has going for it: the intersection of interest and how individual loyalty often trumps institutional loyalty. I'm not sure if that's true, but it makes for pretty good television. We even get hints, in the preview for next week, that Velcoro and Woodrugh will have some of those legendary True Detective ridealong chats.

When Woodrugh bumps into Semyon in a club (the cool gangster easily stares down the "angsty cop," as a savvy hustler calls him) we are reminded that actually these four characters have not interacted too much yet. To the extent I am anticipating the upcoming episodes it is to see how these personalities play off of one another. None of these characters looks to be as singular or memorable as (obviously) Cohle or even the underrated Hart, but Farrell and Vaughn are doing their best to develop complexity with the oft-broad material they are handled while McAdams moves in the opposite direction, carving a complex, nuanced, and highly watchable interpretation of a character whom I suspect would feel much flatter and thinner on the page. Kitsch still struggles to hold our interest, but his role is the most one-note so it's hard to blame him.

Anyway, Woodrugh does get a bit more interesting this episode, due entirely to the interplay of his macho homophobia and the increasingly clear source of that homophobia. A meet-up with a war buddy suggests (well, pretty much outright states) that they had a romance in the desert and that perhaps Woodrugh is as traumatized by this memory as by the violence he took part in. And when he's tasked to question hookers, he realizes that he has much better luck with the male population than the females even though everyone in this episode assumes that his good looks will charm the ladies. I like how Kitsch plays this moment. If we're going to see the character inch out of the closet this season it may be due more to professional duties than personal commitment.

Likewise, Velcoro grows more sympathetic and seems more human when he's playing cop than when he's playing dad (or Semyon's hired thug). The dull stereotype of episode 1 is becoming a richer character when he stops trying at his family life and starts trying at his job. Semyon, on the other hand, seems less and less an efficient, professional criminal-gone-straight - still with one foot on the wrong side of the law but relatively likable. Instead he comes off as a ruthless, truly bad guy, ripping gold teeth out of his minion's mouths and, even worse, darkly threatening wives and children while leaning on businessmen he has helped. Vaughn, whom many worried would seem non-threatening in the role, is genuinely effective, translating his height into a threatening presence and his sarcasm into an intimidating viciousness. But his tongue still gets tied by the the verb-less street talk Pizzolatto crams into his mouth. Vaughn just doesn't seem like a man who rose from the gutter and he stumbles with some of the dialogue.

If I haven't spoken much about the case itself, that's because there isn't much to say. What do the characters discover in this episode? That Caspere liked to party, something we heard early in episode two and have been hearing ever since. Everyone the investigators talk to offers that same insight, over and over and over - the mayor's debauched son, the hustlers at a decadent nightclub, the pretentious director of a movie Caspere was funding (whose man-bun some have taken as a barbed reference to season one's director Cary Fukanaga). We get it. The man liked hookers, and - to quote Chauncy Gardener - he "liked to watch." It's possible I missed something, but I didn't feel the episode offered any new insight into Caspere's place within the corrupt ecosystem of Vinci, or the role of his sex life in his death.

The only real plot advancement occurs in Semyon's storyline, as one of his associates is found dead (though the men around Semyon are so faceless I couldn't remember who he was). Semyon also openly speculates that Caspere may have been killed by the Russian gangster who came to town in episode one and was skittish about deal-making even before Caspere showed up. Much of his screentime is spent with his wife, their relationship fraying from the stress of Semyon's business collapsing - and from his inability to impregnate her even through artificial insemination. This is a bit of a retreat for her character, who seemed to be more of a partner in early episodes and is now reduced to pouting around the house with baby issues. So far Semyon's story feels very disconnected from the rest of the cast, and as their interlocking relationships grow more compelling, that distance becomes a liability.

Many noirs contain impenetrable plots that are difficult to follow and/or not especially alluring in their actual mystery (municipal corruption is a constant theme of L.A. detective fiction). Instead, these tales rely on atmosphere and character to generate excitement. That seems to be what Pizzolatto is going for here, but the trophy wives stomping through mansions and set photographers whispering of decadent parties do not feel as fresh or interesting as the trailer-park madam or grieving bayou fisherman of season one. And Janus Metz Pedersen, taking over for Justin Lin, does not imbue any of these sequences with visual interest or an eye for detail. The one memorable scene is the episode's cold open, an Elvis impersonator (okay, okay - Conrad Twitty impersonator - ed.) writhing in the spotlight as a bleeding Velcoro commiserates with his father in a bar.

The surreal setpiece (which turns out to be a dream - a first for True Detective, if I'm not mistaken) is a clear nod to Tony Soprano's bold hallucinations on another HBO show, but the one eye-catching detail grows thin very quickly, and the location (that bar, again?) is fairly unimaginative. Its ability to spark our curiosity and inability to sustain it may unfortunately be reflective of the show itself. To achieve greatness or even satisfaction, True Detective needs character, atmosphere, and mystery. Right now it is barely coasting on only one of those qualities (the first - and that's due in large part to the performances). I didn't find episode three as disappointing as episode one, knowing roughly what to expect by now, but it also wasn't as promising as the best bits of episode two. I will say I enjoyed watching the episode as it unfolded but I never felt deeply invested.

I think episode four will be really crucial in determining what season two has to offer. Will it be just another routine cop show, with good actors and some interesting tangents to nibble on, or will it surprise us with something deeper and richer? We're approaching the halfway point and sad to say, the smart money is on the former. That's fine in and of itself. But at the end of season one I wrote that it was a tremendous kickoff for a great series, with the best yet to come. Specifically, I cited that arresting shot of Cohle entering Carcosa, his eyes just above the camera line, as a hint of what True Detective was capable of. I hope I was right, but am afraid I was viewing the beginning of the end.



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Lost in the Movies for 7 Days: a status update for the coming week...and year

August 16, 2015, 7:00 am
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I celebrated 7 years of blogging exactly a month ago, and with that flimsy excuse, I am here to announce 7 straight days of new posts starting today with this intro and concluding with an entry that also centers on the number 7. Next week Lost in the Movies will settle into a very long-term 3-day weekly schedule: random (mostly video) Mondays, TV viewing diary Wednesdays, Favorites series Fridays. The only exception will be if I decide to review a second series in addition to the one being covered on Wednesdays (like how I recently wrote about True Detective on Tuesdays). In addition to filling every day, this week will also open and close several ongoing ventures.

Here's what in store through August 22:



Monday, August 17:Coming Up on YouTube (video)

Starting next Monday, and other two weeks after that, I plan to post a new video on YouTube. Tomorrow I am sharing a video introducing the new format for this channel, as well as showing clips from recent work for Vimeo and/or Fandor.

Tuesday, August 18: True Detective season 1 & 2 conclusions

Following my viewing diary for season 2, I want to reflect on the strengths and flaws of both seasons to put the show so far into perspective. The critical pile-on has been understandable but misses some important points.
Wednesday, August 19: Neon Genesis Evangelion episode 15

My episode guide continues with a chapter that doesn't have any big Angel battle, but is one of my favorites of the entire series. For me, this is where things start to get really interesting and Bob and I will discuss it (he's not as big a fan of this one). Plus, Murderous Ink returns to offer his perspective after a 2-week absence.

Thursday, August 20: Interview w/ me on Twin Peaks Unwrapped

This month's obligatory Twin Peaks post is actually a guest spot on someone else's coverage. Bryon and Ben, the hosts of the Twin Peaks Unwrapped podcast, invited me to discuss my Journey Through Twin Peaks videos as well as the first season of the show (Bryon just finished it for the first time). I also have an upcoming guest post about my videos on the fan site Welcome to Twin Peaks and if that's up I will share it on Thursday too.


Friday, August 21: Favorites series returns w/ All the President's Men

It's back! Two and half years after its unceremonious pause I am finally renewing my Favorites series with an entry on this thriller classic. From now on the series will continue every Friday.
 Saturday, August 22: 7 Rooms montage (video)

In one of my more random posts, I will upload an old montage for an unmade film to Vimeo. I created this as a personal guide to the themes and aesthetic of a convoluted, ultimately unmade project. While I never ended up using it, I like some of the juxtapositions in this montage of films, locations, music, and images.
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Coming Attractions on my YouTube channel (video)

August 17, 2015, 7:00 am
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For six months, my YouTube channel has been inactive as I considered how best to follow up my Journey Through Twin Peaks series. Now I'm ready to unveil the way forward - four ongoing series, each a different approach to the video essay, followed by a random post each month before the cycle repeats. The following "intro" video explains this in greater detail:


Here are descriptions for the next five videos (the same pattern will repeat every ten weeks):

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True Detective: thoughts on seasons 1 & 2

August 18, 2015, 7:00 am
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There are spoilers for both seasons of True Detective.

When I finished reviewing season 1 of True Detective a few months ago, I realized that beneath the confident virtuosity of the show's presentation was a fundamental confusion about what it really wanted to achieve. Was is it an eerie, atmospheric exploration of occult iconography and themes? Or did it use esoteric elements as window dressing for a fairly straightforward procedural tale? Were the main characters deeply flawed antiheroes in the vein of The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, or Mad Men? Or were their blunders and blemishes, once again, window dressing to gussy up standard hero-cops for the gritty modern era? Despite being clearly organized around the perspectives of the two detectives, did the narrative strive to recognize and honor the points of view of supporting characters (most notably Marty Hart's wife and oldest daughter), and even minor characters in the eclectic ensembles, like the young prostitute or the alcoholic preacher? Or were they too window-dressing, added to suggest the aura of a sprawling saga with numerous voices without actually putting in the hard work of sustaining such ambition? Was the ominous statewide conspiracy integral to the story, its larger object despite being anchored in a particular case? Or was it... well, you get the picture. Did True Detective have true gravitas or, to paraphrase a famous dismissal of Twin Peaks, did it have nothing at all in its gritty little head except the desire to impress?


Because Cory Fukanaga's direction was so nuanced and evocative, and Matthew McConaughey's and Woody Harrelson's performance so assured, I was willing to offer the season the benefit of the doubt but this also meant that I was less inclined to forgive the flaws in Nic Pizzolatto's screenplay - and to wonder if the collaborators had carried the show more than the alleged, wannabe showrunner. Interviews with Pizzolatto didn't help the matter. I went into the series knowing nothing about the creator, only being vaguely aware that one person had written the whole thing, and one person directed (initially I think I expected it to be a single writer-director, rather than two individuals). Only when I had finished the season 1 finale on DVD did I go back and watch the HBO segments with Pizzolatto. Right away, I began to feel uneasy. He gave off a cocky, too self-assured air even as his answers tended toward on-the-nose and overly literary interpretations of his own material. I began to wonder if I hadn't been justified in my occasional doubts and winces (at some of Cohle's flowery dialogue, or the portentousness of some of the world-building, or - ESPECIALLY - the conventionality, tidiness, and small scale of the concluding episode).

As season 2 approached, there were even more warning signs. Vanity Fair's bizarre puff piece on Pizzolatto endlessly harped on his "revolutionary" concept of the writer as sole auteur (Fukunaga's name was never mentioned once) painting a humorless, self-aggrandizing portrait of the 39-year-old novelist as the Apogee of the Great Showrunners of the Golden Age of Television. Beneath this bravado flashed numerous signs of insecurity: his refusal to acknowledge the director's input, his temperamental stubbornness, his thin-skinned response to accusations of plagiarism and sexism, his lack of almost any self-deprecation or humility (except for one all-too-telling comment that he wasn't sure he wanted to direct any episodes because "he didn't want to ruin his own series"...but the description of his on-set activity implies he was directing in all but name). Given the reporter's admittedly roller-coaster relationship with the subject in the past (they were both writers on The Killing), I occasionally found myself wondering if this wasn't actually a hit piece cleverly disguised as a lionizing tribute. Intentionally or otherwise, the instantly-parodied article couldn't have done a much better job setting Pizzolatto up as a Humpty Dumpty ripe for a fall. Pizzolatto has not spoken much to the press since then, so maybe he agrees.

Nonetheless, and despite months of concern beginning with the unconventional casting decisions and implications that the occult would be left out of season two, early critiques seemed determined to give the season a fair shake. Response to the meandering premiere was disappointed, but most viewers preferred to withhold judgement before jumping to conclusions. By halfway through the season, Twitter was abuzz with snarky "hate-watching" barbs but most publications maintained a reserved, skeptical maybe-it-will-all-turn-out-okay attitude until the finale. At that point, the pent-up frustration finally bubbled over and episode 8 was widely panned (apparently earning only a 29 on Rotten Tomatoes). Todd VanDerWerff called season 2 "an utter disaster," and that was probably one of the milder reactions to Pizzolatto's folly. Personally, I watched all of this unfold with mixed emotions. Five episodes into the season, I gave up on any possibility of greatness and, even earlier than that, I concluded that Pizzolatto's ego was receiving karmic blowback. And yet the last three episodes (and even elements of the one before them) were fairly strong and episode 6 was a genuinely excellent hour of television with moments as well-directed as season 1. I reconsidered what True Detective (and its beleaguered writer) still has going for it.

After writing the above, I continued with a few more paragraphs dissecting Pizzolatto's hubris - why it is presumptuous of a text-focused writer to manage an audiovisual experience, how his desire to rush to the top of TV showrunner-dom (apparently because the audience for novels is too small) put the cart before the horse, and why he can't simply become the next David Simon/David Chase/Vince Gilligan without grappling with the form the way they have (I'm skeptical of the "pay your dues" theory of career advancement, but at the very least these other TV auteurs understand the intricacies - and the fundamental nature - of their medium in a way Pizzolatto clearly does not). But I've already criticized Pizzolatto in earlier reviews, and God knows the media's True Detective post mortems are crucifying him right now. So I've deleted these passages and would rather focus on the more surprising - and optimistic - realizations accompanying the disappointment of Pizzolatto's solo season (which is essentially what this was). Because, despite season 1's superior execution, season 2 actually does show promising signs of growth and depth, reassuring me that there is something substantial beneath the writer's lofty allusions and earnest philosophizing. If season 1 was the brilliant child prodigy, season 2 is the awkward adolescent - less sure of itself, but also stumbling toward a greater maturity.

The decision to develop intersecting narratives, primarily Frank Semyon's and Ray Velcoro's alternate paths through Vinci's corruption, is a much more ambitious and potentially intriguing approach than the bantering buddy-cop conceit - and at times, especially in its second half, True Detective was actually able to deliver on this idea albeit not with any consistency (and generally with a sense of "too little, too late"). While season 2's web of intrigue was notoriously convoluted, it at least avoided the mistake of season 1, which baited its audience with a massive conspiracy and then tried to satisfy us with a lone killer and some anecdotes about the bigger picture, quickly brushed aside. This time the killer was revealed very early in the finale before we move on to bigger fish. While many individual strands were unresolved, and the conspiracy was not exposed to the larger public (although it has the potential to be, based on the final scene) the characters went down fighting it, and its intricacies were unveiled for the audience. In other words, there was follow-through on the conceit of a sprawling universe, a marked improvement.

Charting a course of doom for his two protagonists, and making them more fundamentally and fatally flawed than the ultimately noble Hart and Cohle, is also a (perversely) more satisfying storytelling strategy. And it feels more honest to Pizzolatto's vision than the rather pat heroics of season 1 which hinted at a fundamental darkness, and pointed toward solemn tragedy, before wrapping things up in feel-good fashion. Meanwhile, the uneven but intriguing development of Ani Bezzerides - at least until she is reduced to conventional love interest in the finale - was Pizzolatto's transparent attempt to show his feminist critics that he could write a female character. But while this prove-it motivation carried its own inherent limitations, it also pushed the writer into surprising and rewarding new directions. In particular, the character's potentially trope-y abusive backstory and her sense of isolation and self-reliance as a woman in a man's world allowed Pizzolatto to explore some of his favorite themes and ideas without falling back onto the macho-nihilist cliches he has been criticized for in the past. (On the other hand, Paul Woodrugh, Pizzolatto's other attempt to tweak or critique conventions of masculinity and stoicism, failed to register as anything other than an afterthought.)

These are my opinions, and I've already read pieces which argue the exact opposite: that Pizzolatto's fatal misstep was allowing his critics to chart his narrative course. To be fair, I agree that some (though not nearly all, or even the majority) of the season's flaws were due to a gawky uncertainty that wasn't present in season 1. But you know what? Sometimes that gawky uncertainty is necessary for growth. And I do think the above points represent growth as a storyteller. At the same time, Pizzolatto regressed as a collaborator; or rather, he leveraged the success of his first collaboration to avoid collaborating again. This exposed not only his weaknesses as a filmmaker (he frankly isn't one), but also his surprising weaknesses as a writer: the plot development was artificial, the pacing plodding, repetitious, and stretched-out, and the dialogue...well, season 2 was highly quotable for all the wrong reasons. After crafting season 1's thrilling twists and turns, he could only cut-and-paste mystery cliches this time; after patiently and carefully structuring the back-and-forth time jumps between 1995 and 2012, he padded out these new episodes as if he was a writers' room hack under the gun, finding ways to hit the needed hour before rushing off to the next installment; after authoring Rust Cohle's memorable monologues, he created dozens of meme-worthy clunkers that were unintentionally funnier than anything Vince Vaughn said in Wedding Crashers.

The man is frankly taking a hell of a beating right now, with one piece ripping to shreds his only public statements since the premiere (some admittedly but harmlessly gaseous self-analyses of his writing process). Another article suggests - apparently straightfaced - that HBO "George Lucas" him (my term, not the writer's) by continuing the series but assigning a new writer to the task...even offering the idea that they bring back Fukunaga and let him choose the writer. Ouch. So if I don't come to praise Pizzolatto, exactly, I also don't want to bury him. Instead I'd hoping he is able to open his own eyes to what doesn't work in season 2. Rather than over-responding to outside critics, he can let his own inner critic get to work. First of all, I wouldn't mind if he broke his self-imposed format and crafted either a longer or shorter miniseries. Too many characters pop up for cameos full of meaningful glances before vanishing from the narrative as it rushes to a conclusion: it's as if Pizzolatto forgot he was writing a self-contained 8-episode arc rather than an ongoing multiseason saga. And I'm already on record desiring a link, however subtle, between the different seasons. Beyond that, if we can boil down Pizzolatto's failure to three causes, they would probably be: moving outside of his comfort zone (from a testosterone-heavy mystery set in his home state and loosely inspired by his own novel); assuming too much responsibility for the show's execution; and working way too fast - with 18 months to craft 8 hours of television, he seems to have put an early draft onscreen instead of working through its issues.

The third problem is the most easily resolved, and I hope HBO offers him more time to create the next installment (allowing rentment turn into anticipation again). I have little trouble believing he would gratefully accept the breathing room. As others have noted, an anthology with different characters and locations each season does not need to be rushed into production. The second problem has been the most cited, and Pizzolatto's response will be really, really telling - probably the most important factor in whether he is able to bounce back or simply become an M. Night Shyamalan-esque punchline. Most importantly, the next season needs one single director (arguably much more than a co-writer) and I would imagine HBO would love for Pizzolatto to accept help, despite his stubborn desire to be the sole showrunner. This has been discussed ad nauseum and the ball is in his court now. But it's the first problem that intrigues me the most because I think it was a strength as well as a flaw of season 2. If Pizzolatto can learn from season 2's mistakes, while continuing to push against his own limitations - instead of retreating into the limited but efficient prowess of season 1 - he can create a work which avoids the drawbacks of both seasons.

Season 2 has reneged the guarantee (which I assumed going in) that any season of True Detective will at least be consistently entertaining, it has also opened up the possibility (which didn't seem to exist after season 1's pat finale) that True Detective can be something more than just entertaining. Now it's up to Pizzolatto: does he end up like Ray Velcoro and Frank Semyon, doomed by their stubborn go-it-alone ethos and insecurity-masked-as-bravado, or like Jordan Semyon and Ani Bezzerides, retreating to regroup before striking back, driven by a determination that the world we deserve is only as good or bad as we choose to make it. I wish him well.

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Neon Genesis Evangelion, Episode 15 - "Those Women Longed For the Touch of Others' Lips, and Thus Invited Their Kisses"

August 19, 2015, 7:00 am
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This series is an episode guide to the Japanese anime television show Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995 - 96) and the spin-off films. Each entry includes my own reflection on the episode, followed by a conversation with fellow bloggers Bob Clark and Murderous Ink.

It's all about intimacy...fleeting, insecure, perhaps impossible, but yearned for nonetheless. For the late-twentysomethings attending yet another wedding, this intimacy is located in the past, a hazy, alcohol-fueled remembrance of carefree college days. These memories may be as chimerical as the guests' own tipsy reflections in the lounge's glass windows, hovering against the dreamy cityscape beyond. For the bratty, boisterous teenage girl this intimacy exists in her restless imagination, perpetually contradicted by the messy facts of life - an older man entirely uninterested in her childish crush, or an awkward roommate whose suffocating kiss is "definitely not something to do to kill time!" For the lonely boy at the story's center this intimacy is buried somewhere beyond reach, his bond with his father emphasized by the anniversary of his mother's death yet only made more elusive by her absence.

On the surface this is one of the least dramatic episodes so far, yet it remains one of the strongest of the entire series. For the first time, there are no Angels in sight (unless you count the dramatic reveal at episode's end). Instead, we have small character-driven stories, a refreshing touch after many of our heroes were relegated to background action during the recent run. Remarkably, we manage to keep tabs on - and learn more about - Shinji, Rei, Asuka, Misato, Kaji, and even the more cryptic Ritsuko and Cmdr. Ikari. While the stakes in these storylines are no longer life-and-death, somehow the characters' vulnerability feels more real than in the increasingly familiar battles we've been witnessing. When we return to Angel attacks in the next episode it will be with a greater sense of emotional weight and personal risk, because of the time off we took here.

The episode opens by delving deeper into Kaji's intrigue. Not only does he take a side trip to Kyoto to dig into NERV's shady background, but we learn from Cmdr. Ikari and Fuyutski that NERV is aware of his betrayal and still feels they can use him, for now. Throughout this episode, as we attend weddings and graveside vigils, witness first kisses and reminisce with old lovers, there is a feeling of suspension, a Damocles' sword hanging over all the characters (a great cut comes between the liveliness of the wedding reception and the desolate, ominous row of anonymous markers on an open plain, where Shinji's father takes him to visit his mother's grave). One of the reasons I'm drawn to the show is its War and Peace quality, the way that the vast, world-shaking events and the private lives of the characters unfolding between these events complement and enrich one another. The personal stories make us care more about what happens in the big battles, while the fact that millions of lives, millions of personal stories, hang in the balance amplifies the importance of the human drama we witness.

Shinji is cut off from much of that human drama, but as always it's Asuka who begins to draw him out of his shell. Their first kiss, on a bored dare from Asuka, is a classic of affectionate comedy, one of the most wonderfully executed little sequences in the show. Notice how she sits out in the light-filled common room while he crouches, half-hidden, in the dark doorway, nervously wrapped in his headphones (they continue to blare up-tempo beats once he stands up, adding the perfect sonic touch to the unfolding moment). The close-ups in which the characters pucker up and lean toward the viewer play as nonchalant observation rather than coy fanservice, and Asuka pinching his nose is the pitch-perfect cherry on top. The scene is also nicely juxtaposed against Misato's and Kaji's kiss on the starlit road. The cherry on top of that embrace is probably Misato's dirty socks, revealed when she removes her grown-up heels in drunken disorientation. This episode not only achieves a number of excellent character moments, it expertly weaves them together.

In the end, we return to our grand scale. Kaji discloses the monstrous Adam, a mass of muscle with its eerie eye-filled mask, hung from a cross in the bowels of NERV (here too there is an effective visual juxtaposition, because this moment immediately follows the reveal of Rei floating in a tank several levels above, exchanging warm gazes with Cmdr. Ikari). Even the gung-ho Misato, almost ready to blow her ex-lover's brains all over the NERV hardware, is overwhelmed by the sight of this massive being, this huge pound of deformed flesh just hanging there like Snowden's secret in Catch-22. The two characters are reminded of the human heartbeat behind all the mechanical muscle. Through this efficient, entertaining and empathetic episode, so are we.


Conversation with Bob Clark (with additional observations from Murderous Ink)

me: So...this is the first episode without an Angel attack in how long? 

Bob: And the first episode without an Eva being activated, or anything surrounding it.Even "Rain, Escape and Afterwards" had that brief flashback to Shinji being chewed out.

me: They do that one test for like 2 seconds. 

Bob: Yeah, that's the only scene that would let you know that this is that type of show. 

me: It's a character episode, with a mythology reveal at the end, no action and...goddamn, I'm with you, this is probably my favorite episode so far.
That's me though. I'm not really a TV guy. My favorite parts of my favorite TV shows are when they seem most like films. 

Bob: What? No, the next one is my favorite. This doesn't do much for me.
It's got some classic NGE moments, like Shinji and Gendo visiting the cemetary. But for the most part it feels filler.

me: So many things I like about this one: the cemetary yes, but also the wedding and Misato puking and getting a piggy-back ride home, the hilarious kiss between Asuka & Shinji (with Pen-Pen shrugging as only a penguin can), and the pretty cool reveal at the end along with all the hints along the way that Kaji is not what he seems.
I definitely don't think this is my favorite episode overall but I love that it indicates where the series is headed.
I think stuff like the Sea of Dirac is enabled because they're willing to get so character-y with an episode like this.
It's like Twin Peaks - at its best when the supernatural and the personal/psychological converge.
But anyway...what about it feels filler-y to you?

Bob: Simply that we have an episode that's very character driven yes, and has lots of exposition, you might say, but doesn't find a way to put it into the action. In a sense, it's better than shoehorning the false action of Jet Alone or the dodgy experimentalism of the SEELE briefing, but in a sense it still feels like we're getting a lot of "deleted scenes" apart from a genuine plot. Maybe that's a good thing, to have a reprieve from the standard genre trappings of the mech-action but it takes away just a little bit of the conceptual elegance. 

me: That makes sense. I think we'll be getting lots of conceptual elegance in the coming episodes, but as you say it's a relief from the standard genre trappings, and that was getting a bit tiresome to me (but again, maybe that's just me).

Bob: It's not as big a departure as, say, Cooper in plaid or any of the bullshit monster-of-the-week episodes of X-Files that I always hated (I'm odd like that), but it's just enough to make you antsy. 

me: Yeah, Cooper in plaid was pretty bad. But the TP-NGE analogy is weird for me, because I LOVE the latter part of NGE so much; it's almost as if they detoured from Laura's murder for a while and then focused on it at the end of the series instead of early on. For me, all the stuff they delve into as NGE comes to a close is analogous to that - the characters' psychology, and the dissolution/disorientation they experience as the firm footing of NERV comes loose underneath them, is what I love most about the show. 

Bob: Part of the filler thing to me comes from how much we're simply given information that we've been wondering about for a while. Kaji's loyalty, the visual evidence of what NERV's doing with Adam. It's shown to us almost literally, rather than it being discovered by Misato. Kaji basically draws open the curtains for her. 

me: You mentioned the cemetary scene as something you liked - what did you appreciate about that?

Bob: Seeing how Shinji dreads it, and seeing how it's what he's doing when everyone else is off enjoying themselves, more or less, helps offer some contrast. 

me: How he's still entrapped in his own anxieties & insecurities? 

Bob: And his family, I suppose. Everyone else is off in some kind of social context-- Misato with Kaji and Ritsuko at the wedding, Asuka with Hikari on the double date (even though she's bored to death with it-- the important thing is Hikari). Even Rei's weird-ass experiment with Gendo is evidence of a social connection that Shinji lacks. 

me: There are some interesting reveals in this episode. Shinji playing the stand-up bass is one.

Bob: Mhm. The first time that Shinji and Asuka really connect on a friendly level. Or actually, the second after the music episode. Both times, music plays a big part. 

me: Rei with Cmdr. Ikari is another.
Normal school attendence. "Ayanami? Ayanami? Oh, she's absent again today." Cut to her floating naked in a tank with Shinji's creepy father smiling at her. 

Bob: It's only creepy of course because he smiles.The "floating naked in the tank" thing is such a classic anime and sci-fi trope. It's common enough that you see it in Empire Strikes Back, Altered States. Even the Maria transformation scene in Metropolis has her laid naked on the table, which feels like a water-less precursor to this sort of thing.
It's common enough that you don't really think much of it the first time you see it here. It's a classic trope. But having him smile-- it makes explicit the voyeurism that's implicit in all those other ones.

me: By the way, I love her reaction when Shinji observes her wringing the towel. I think it's may be the first time we see her get embarrassed - act human in a sense. 

Bob: But again-- a water image is what you're talking about with the towel. Water imagery, maternalism. 
The sub translation makes the scene a lot more interesting and less hackneyed-- it seems both more and less creepy for him to say she'd make a good housewife, rather than mother. 

me: The subs used both. He first says she was very motherly, she blushes, and then he says she'd make a good housewife. 

Bob: Yes, that's what I mean.

me: It's almost like he subconsciously knows where he's going, despite the nonchalant tone, and then checks himself. 

Bob: It makes more sense than "you'd make a good mother." 

me: I felt like the difference between Asuka and Rei was highlighted pretty efficiently in this episode. Between her reticence in the elevator, and Asuka lounging on the floor watching a soap opera. A lot of nice contrasts, which highlighted the strengths of both as characters.

Bob: Yeah. The level of genuine reluctance to enter into a conversation with Rei, and the way Asuka loudly proclaims it so Shinji notices.
That's something she always does. "This is the wall of Jericho!". While Rei just doesn't say anything. Which one is more successful, and more sincere?

me: There's an interesting contrast here between the 14- and close-to-30-year-olds. I really liked all that stuff. You have that moment with Rei, where Shinji calls her "motherly," an odd combination of older and younger generations. And a lot of cutting back & forth between Shinji's first kiss and Misato's & Kaji's (semi-)reconciliation.

Bob: I'd be willing the wager it might be Asuka's first kiss, too. It's ambiguous because of how she says "don't breathe, it tickles"-- is it from experience, or is it because, in that moment right there, his breath is tickling her lips? I prefer to think the latter, because it's such a great physical detail for the scene. And also because Asuka is so supremely traumatized emotionally that I doubt she'd have let anybody touch her until now, where she has absolute control of the situation.

me: Yeah, it's a great scene. I was going to ask you about that. I feel like it's one of the show's iconic moments. 

Bob: Well, here's one of the other really important things I realized about the episode, just now-- that scene, the kiss. It seems so throw-offish, so comedic, especially their reactions. Part of it, I think, is Asuka's comfort zone of "I'll kiss you, but only because I can insult you after and you don't threaten me at all". I honestly think that if Kaji actually made a move on her, she'd go crazy, because she'd have no control in that situation.
But the really important thing is-- that scene is really the one comedic bit in the whole episode. It's the release valve. And you need that, especially without an Eva fight. 

me: What's that weird phone message she leaves with him? Is she trying to make like somebody's hitting on her, to make him jealous? 

Bob: I think she's desperate for attention, plain and simple. She probably knows that he's not interested in her, so jealousy isn't an option. She just wants to be noticed. And the fact that she knows, consciously or otherwise, that he's really interested in Misato, means that he is her way to run away from reality. He's her Iceman.
The intercutting between Shinji/Asuka and Misato/Kaji is really essential, especially because we get to see them play out different kinds of the same experience, at different ends, at different stages of maturity. And especially because the adults are so concerned with correcting the mistakes of their youth, while the kids repeat the same ones, perhaps with different outcomes.

me: In a way it really emphasizes one of the most interesting qualities of the show - its depiction of characters going through (or attempting to go through) the normal stages of life against the completely disorienting, skewed backdrop.
It's one of the few postapocalyptic works I know of where it isn't just a completely exaggerated everything-normal-is-over environment. Yes, things have changed drastically but they also continue in some form like they used to. That's why I like this episode so much, I think. It's normality set against a backdrop of ominous uncertainty.
What do you think about the whole wedding subplot? 

Bob: Hm, I'd like to say that's kinda a comedic bit too, but it seems so deadly serious to Misato. Not wanting to be the last one who isn't married. Not wanting to age out of her youth into spinsterhood.
This is where it might be interesting to get MI's perspective, as I'd like to say it might be a commentary on the Japanese obsession with youth culture and attractiveness, but I really can't offer anything more than having seen "Only Yesterday", where being in your late twenties is seen as a mid-life crisis.
The only funny bit is the montage of wedding moments.
And that's only really "wry, clever" type funny. 

me: I love the abruptness of it, and it seems kinda unusual even for NGE's rapid-fire pace. I also like how when she calls Asuka she's at the "third afterparty." These folks don't want to go home. 

Bob: It's unusual because really, it's an odd scene for NGE to begin with. The only one I can compare it to is the Jet Alone committee thing. 

me: Any observations about Ritsuko in this episode? 

Bob: She seems like the only one who's a genuine adult. Partly because she has a card to play with Kaji. But everyone else is in some form of arrested development. Even Gendo, but especially Misato and the kids. 

me: What do you mean by "a card to play"? 

Bob: That bit where she threatens him, playfully. Don't delve too deep, etc. 

me: Maybe you can expand on the whole NERV-Kaji dynamic. I admit I'm a little perplexed. They know he's digging where he shouldn't be, working for someone else, yet they feel they're using him. Why?

Bob: Perhaps they feel any action he does might be useful as a counter against SEELE. Perhaps they want to string the authorities along and make them think they're digging deeper, without really understanding. The anime equivalent of Tinker Tailor chickenfeed.

me: I like that element of intrigue. It's like NERV/Seele vs. the world...except, really, NERV is kinda vs. Seele instead.
Betrayal and distrust layered upon betrayal and distrust.
What do you make of the early scene with Kaji? Him in the doorway?

Bob: You mean the one with his spy handler, or whatever? Well, he's checking out the different companies that are under the umbrella of NERV, and finding out they're all shells. It's just some basic spy stuff. 

me: I thought it was interesting that he brings up the "16 years ago..." stuff. That plus some of the conversations at the wedding serve as good set-up for the flashback episodes to come.
Which are among my favorite. 

Bob: Mhm. It's table setting, as is said in American TV. 

me: Do you have any observations about the show's style/animation? 

Bob: Well, this one is so based in the real world, everything seems very traditional. Laid back. It's really only in a few bits that we see glimpses of the usual Evangelion surrealness, and they become much more disturbing here-- Rei in the tank, the sight of Adam crucified, half formed like something out of Cronenberg. 

me: Yeah this is really the first anything we've seen of Adam, isn't it? Unless I've forgotten something. 

Bob: The first we saw was that embryo in the first episode with Asuka. The one that Kaji hand delivered to Gendo. 

me: Any other observations? 

Bob: Hm... the fact that Shinji is playing a stringed instrument, and the music that plays during another character's ultimate scene in EoE. 

me: Another musical correspondence I noticed was the soft playing of "Fly Me to the Moon" in the background. I think when Misato is walking back with Kaji. 

Bob: I think this show is the only reason I might ever tolerate that song now. 

me: Well they never play the Sinatra version do they? 

Bob: I don't think so, no. It's always women.


Visit Bob Clark's website NeoWestchester, featuring his webcomic as well as a new animated video related to Star Wars.


Thoughts on father/mother
from
Murderous Ink

In the episode 15, there are many references/suggestions to father-child relationships. Gendo-Shinji, of course, Kaji-Misato, and Kaji-Asuka. Strangely, Shinji mentions 'mother' - and later 'housewife' - in relation to Rei, as you guys discussed. I'm quite sure everyone agrees that the most of the characterization in NGE revolve around parent-child relationships, especially father-child. I believe this episode functions as a stage-gate for this character development. When Shinji talks about Rei being motherly, it is a bit weird, come to think of it. Shinji is specifically referring to the way she dries the dustcloth. Actually, some of us (Japanese of my generation, 40 years or older today) might have been able to relate to that statement, since the use of dustcloth in household was fairly common until some 40 years ago. Rei's handling of the cloth did look familiar to those generations. Another bit I found interesting was the casual mention of "getting married before thirty". This had been a common conception about marriage up to early 90's.

Actually, you may recall the father-daughter relationship in Yasujiro Ozu's "Late Spring", in which everybody thinks Setsuko Hara's character should get married before she gets too old. This view of marriage (especially for women) survived until '90s. Also, growing out of being a father's daughter to become a mother is considered a part of growing up. Or, growing out of a father's son to become a father. This traditional view of parent-child relationship, and its variation - finding a partner as a substitute for a parent - is a key to understand much Japanese literature and art. Today, you would have difficult time to find a married twenty-something, especially in urban area (in Japan). This change was brought about mainly by economical reasons: Having a family in his/her twenties has become a luxury for many, since they cannot earn that much to support themselves, let alone kids.

Maybe I should mention that many Japanese married couple call each other 'Dad', 'Mom' after they have kids. I noticed, in U.S., for example, a father does address his partner as "mother", but only when speaking to his kid "Ask Mom if it's Okay", for example. But, in Japan, many (not all) married couples address each other 'Dad' or 'Mom' directly. Like, a husband would say to his wife, 'Mom, where is my blue T-shirt?'. It may be related to the function of a male/female within a family, rather than a relationship to each other. I think this custom is becoming less common, but still exists. So, Shinji's shifting between 'housewife' and 'mother' does not sound too strange in Japanese, though it has a implication as you mentioned.

Murderous Ink writes about classic film, pop culture, and society on Vermillion and One Nights.

Next week: "Splitting of the Breast"• Previous week: "Weaving a Story"

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Mr. Thank You

July 6, 2015, 7:00 am
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Arigato-san (Ken Uehara) is a bus driver in rural Japan (in English his nickname translates to - you guessed it - "Mr. Thank You"). He is known for his courteous manner, cheerful demeanor, and smart uniform. Well, that last quality might come with the job but the first two certainly don't. The passengers, and the pedestrians whom he politely warns upon approach, are very pleased with the pleasant tone he sets. With one exception (a pretentious salesman with an even phonier mustache) they don't mind his frequent pauses to converse with passerby, and they don't even seem too startled when he nearly goes over a cliff. On Mr. Thank You's bus the detours almost seem more important than the destination.

Most of the passengers come and go and there is a poignant quality to the ease with which they slip in and out of the scenario. Only three passengers remain throughout, headed toward the dynamic, dangerous city: a mother selling her daughter into prostitution out of desperation, and a charming, cheeky young woman (Michiko Kuwano) who notices the daughter's melancholia and wanders what can be done. Eventually, spoilers ahoy, she gently convinces the driver to sacrifice his much-needed savings, and in the final scene we witness a much happier mother and daughter returning to their hometown. They have escaped the trafficking that Mr. Thank You has already seen many women fall into.

This is a very dark theme underlying the easygoing banter, bouncy score, and sunny cinematography. There are other sad moments too, most notably when the bus driver dismounts on a dusty road to say farewell to a timid Korean migrant, wispy hints of an unspoken romance in their affectionate demeanor. She had hoped to ride his bus someday in a new kimino, but instead she is moving onto a new work site and all she can do is ask him to take care of her father's grave. Mr. Thank You was shot by director Hiroshi Shimizu while the militaristic, autocratic Japan was aggressively invading its neighbors, having occupied Korea for 25 years already. This woman's sad status underscores the darkness of that city in the distance, while the driver's all-too-rare respect and affection for her humanity offers the promise that maybe one character at least (if not this one) will be able to escape her fate.

This sweet, lovely little film is not as slight as it initially appears, nor as shapeless. The best way to approach it is to embrace the journey, just as the characters themselves do (other than grouchy Mr. Mustache, that is). Scenes appear one after the other like lily pads on a stream. We can enjoy the environment and the company of the characters as they have a little drinking party in the cozy back quarters of the bus, or chuckle at the foibles of touchier companions, or admire an all-female Kabuki troupe blocking their passage through the city. Several shots, of the young woman's smoke rings drifting through the bus, would be worth freezing and framing on a wall - except then you couldn't enjoy their sinuous movement, which is the whole point. There is a rough rhythm and poetry to the way characters come and go, some outlasting others, all eventually falling away but enjoying their moments together.

The film also features a classically jaunty thirties style characterized by giddy point-of-view shots running right up to folks in the street, always making me a little nervous that they are about to get creamed. But then much of the route traces the edge of a cliff, a visual reminder of the risks and challenges these characters face in their daily lives. I initially wondered why it takes another woman's prodding to engage the bus driver's charity. Wouldn't his good nature cause him to loosen his purse strings much earlier than the final reel, rescuing the young daughter from prostitution? Then it occurred to me how often he must observe this scenario (indeed he says himself that he has driven many women to the same destiny). Yes, he can foster a happy ending this once, but that's the exception rather than the rule.

If Mr. Thank You's control over the destination is limited, he can make sure the trip itself is a pleasant one. At this he excels. And so the film, despite its awareness of the dangerous route, envelops us in its warm, happy buzz, for which we too can be thankful.
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