• WandaVision (2021) s01e09 – The Series Finale

    Not even halfway through “WandaVision,” it became clear the show’s pass or fail was going to be how well it treated lead Elizabeth Olsen by the end of it. Despite top-billing, she was secondary to Paul Bettany for a while because he was the viewer’s angle of entry. Once it did get to centering on Olsen, the plot violently twisted around itself in order to make it seemingly impossible to unravel without demonizing Olsen. It forecast it wouldn’t—even making Josh Stamberg’s entire character motivation about the fair of that demon (maybe I should’ve gone with witch)—but as things got more and more entangled, even as Olsen got better and better material, culminating in last episode’s “Secret Origin of the MCU Wanda,” it seemed almost impossible they—director Matt Shakman, show runner Jac Schaeffer, brand guru Kevin Feige—would be able to pull it off without a monumental cop out. And such a cop out would throw Olsen under the bus. Or the car. Or the house from Kansas, as it were.

    So, while there are a handful of loss ends a narrative should’ve tied if it weren’t part of a billion dollar umbrella franchise, some glazed over intensely tragic, dramatic moments, way too little for the supporting cast who sold the show while Olsen was subject and oddity, not to mention a (not really but they had to know it’d remind of it) concerning return to a self-exile location—Ed Norton knows that cabin, just saying—“WandaVision” passes. Succeeds. In many areas excels. Olsen’s gone from being the sidekick in the C plot to the only actor who’s gotten to do actual character development in the Marvel movies. Turns out the best way to do character development for characters made for many part serialized installments is to do many part serialized installments, utilizing different narrative styles and distances to do it. The thing about the Marvel movies—the (entirely commercial) magic—isn’t their comics accuracy in the costumes or origin stories, it’s their ability to translate the experience of reading the superhero comic to watching the superhero comic. They pull it off with “WandaVision,” complete with epilogues reminding you to pay attention to the next limited series to buy or maybe you’re supposed to head over to Avengers.

    “WandaVision” is the Marvel movies biggest success—conceptually—since Infinity War, which was putting the two-part Marvel Graphic Novel to film. “WandaVision” proves the limited series on film. Well, streaming video—also, have to say, it’s really great to see a TV-first project not afraid to use lots of extreme long shot in their superhero fights. Even if some of the medium shot composites during the witch fight could be better. The episode does a nice twist on the Marvel movies super-people throw digital fireballs at each other thing to make up for it.

    But it takes Olsen, who’s always been in these movies as someone else’s plus one–she’s been someone’s sister, someone’s girlfriend, someone’s problem employee, someone’s protege, someone’s wife, someone’s mother—combines the best of those things and drops the unimportant ones. Well, it drops the ones it can’t possibly cover. Like, we can guess the weight of killing civilians because of Olsen’s, you know, acting, but “WandaVision” can’t cover it. One assumes Disney+ knows most parents don’t know how to lock by ratings. So they skip the biggest “adult themes.” Particularly with kids Julian Hilliard and Jett Klyne, who the show keeps starting to leverage because they’re good and fun—they could’ve done five more minutes hanging out with Teyonah Parris but the episode can only really handle two superhero fights, not three—but then has to hit the brakes on because Hilliard and Klyne need to be handled very delicately, without raising too many questions. Much like Kat Dennings going from trusted, leveraged B plot sidekick as protagonist, to maybe an Argyle nod from Die Hard (definitely a nod to something, but I’m not a hundred percent it’s Die Hard). There’s not room for her, there’s not room for Randall Park. Because it’s Olsen’s show.

    It’s a big superhero origin story and it’s all Olsen’s. The episode makes the most room for Bettany, because he’s Olsen’s dude—the superhero-sized melodramatics are appropriately affecting and glorious—then Kathryn Hahn because she’s in a thirty minute superhero fight with Olsen, then in a distant third, Parris. Other than Olsen, Bettany gets the best material; he gets his Superman III junkyard fight with his evil clone, but with a very Bettany Vision resolution—Schaeffer clearly loves the sound of his voice. But she’s just as enthused when he gets to talk all soulful and deep to Olsen. The show’s able to get away with a lot thanks to Olsen, Bettany, and Hahn. Lesser productions would be, well, Supergirl: The Movie.

    Hahn’s victim to a few more bad special effects composition shots than anyone else, but she’s still a mesmerizing villain. The show does well in not doing an alter ego thing for her and Olsen; I think the superhero fight banter off between them has to be the best acted one as yet to put film. Runner up is Bettany versus Bettany. The character development behind it all, “WandaVision” and beyond, adds depth, but also it’s just Hahn and Olsen are really good.

    Like, the scene where Olsen toggles to leading her superhero family from cosmic witchery? Awesome. She’s also able to imply a lot of the dark the show can’t explicitly describe during the many set pieces in her fight with Hahn.

    Overall, the show hinges on Olsen, Bettany, Olsen and Bettany, and Hahn. The final episode lets Hahn off the hook a little because she’s “just” the bad guy at this point and not being an alter ego with the hero… she only plays into so much. Everything she does is a delight, of course. Though I do remain unconvinced on the eyeshadow.

    It’ll be at least two years before the standing “WandaVision” questions get resolved—it’s off to the big screen for a couple of the cast members (the timeline’s Covid-permitting)—and who knows what they might bring up again even later. It would’ve been nice to know Marvel movies could do this kind of longer form project either—especially in the years it seemed Olsen and Bettany were utterly wasted—but “WandaVision” portends a successful Marvel movies streaming show future. It does seem unlikely we’ll get to see performances of Olsen and Hahn’s caliber on a regular basis, but it turns out Olsen being singular in the Marvel movies is kind of the point.

    Though, you know, beware that cabin.


  • Resident Alien (2021) s01e06 – Sexy Beast

    Lots happens this episode, lots of good stuff. There’s maybe the funniest scene so far in the series—based on measuring breath lost to laughing—there’s a montage of great Corey Reynolds acting, there’s deputy Elizabeth Bowen not just getting some character development but a lot of it, there’s the new doctor in town (Michael Cassidy, who’s basically if Martin Donovan and Paul Rudd merged), there’s the murder mystery getting underway (and reminding a lot of the comic), and then there’s special guest star Linda Hamilton.

    The episode opens in flashback—fifty years ago Maine, a little girl and her David Harbour-looking dad (it’s not him) seeing aliens—skip ahead to nearer the present and we learn the little girl has grown up to be an Army general played by Linda Hamilton. For a few seconds, it seems like they may be doing a riff of Hamilton as the Connor who survived but then they aren’t. Then it seems like Hamilton might be great. She’s fine. She’s not great. Hopefully it won’t affect “Alien” too much.

    She’s in charge of the secret agents (Alex Barima and Mandell Maughan) after the alien. Only it turns out they’re just Army and Army Intelligence and their operation is off the books so Hamilton can get the tech.

    Anyway, it’s the C plot. The A plot is Alan Tudyk being irrationally, uncontrollably jealous of new doctor Cassidy and gloriously making an ass of himself at every opportunity. The B plot is Bowen and Reynolds investigating how a stolen prescription pad might figure in to their murder investigation. For what seems to be the first time, Sara Tomko’s just support in the two main subplots—though she does get a great scene opposite ex Ben Cotton, who’s started bringing new girlfriend Jill Nixon around.

    Tudyk’s also contending with unexpected wife Elvy hanging around and intruding on his mission, which seemingly should get easier to execute once he’s not stuck playing town doctor—great farewell but obviously not really because it’s a small town scene for Tudyk and Tomko when he leaves the clinic—but Elvy has all sorts of ideas for what they should do with their renewed martial bliss. The threat of that martial bliss leads to the aforementioned funniest scene in the show so far as well as the episode’s cliffhanger. It’s a dramatic, hard cliffhanger, but far less interesting than the softer ones having Cassidy around creates; it’s possible someone’s going to check up on Tudyk’s most self-serving diagnoses.

    The episode’s got a new director to the show—Jennifer Phang—and new credited writers—Emily Eslami and Jeffrey Nieves—and they do some excellent work. The character arc for Bowen is the best part of the narrative, while Tudyk and Reynolds really just get to let loose with their performances.

    It’s such a good show. I hope it gets renewed. Dang it.


  • Frasier (1993) s04e08 – Our Father Whose Art Ain’t Heaven

    This episode is credited writer Michael B. Kaplan’s first; I may not be keeping good track of the writers on the show, but I’m at least staying familiar with the names and his wasn’t familiar. He does a fine job with it, getting to some good character work in both comedy and drama. Kaplan’s also good at delaying the actual A plot while deliberately laying the groundwork for it.

    Art opens with Kelsey Grammer and John Mahoney arguing about the latest Jean-Claude Van Damme movie, which they went to go see as a bonding outing; it was Mahoney’s pick and not only did Grammer hate it, he didn’t let Mahoney pay, which aggravates Mahoney. Niles is hanging out at the apartment because… well, Niles is hanging out at the apartment and he’s introducing his B plot about he and separated wife Maris throwing a party for the same day and having to fight for guests.

    When Jane Leeves gets home, threatening to cook a sheepshead stew for dinner, the boys run out to a restaurant. A snooty restaurant, where Mahoney wants to pay and Grammer doesn’t want to let him, leading to some conflict and priming the A plot.

    So maybe nine or ten minutes in, we get to the full A plot, which has Mahoney getting Grammer a present Grammer really wishes he wouldn’t have gotten him and Grammer’s consternation over how to broach the subject. Simultaneously, Hyde Pierce is fighting to keep his guest list up. Leeves has a little subplot going, which eventually gets replaced by Peri Gilpin’s own nightmare gift situation. Gilpin only gets one real scene—at the station, providing emotional support for a sick-of-home Grammer, but it’s a very good one for the actors.

    Where the episode really scores is in the resolution, which starts with Grammer, Hyde Pierce, and Mahoney before segueing into one of those great “Frasier” father and son scenes for Grammer and Mahoney. Grammer missed out on the last one (that episode where Hyde Pierce took over his plot and the corresponding bonding with Mahoney), but this episode’s even better for it. Hyde Pierce doesn’t get shortchanged, however; he’s got a fine resolve to his B plot too, playing into the A plot perfectly.

    It’s another outstanding “Frasier,” with a “just right” end credit sequence for Gilpin and her C plot; Kaplan’s got a very good script, Melman’s direction is good, and Mahoney and Grammer get a nice character development arc.


  • Frasier (1993) s04e07 – A Lilith Thanksgiving

    The title of this episode, A Lilith Thanksgiving, is simultaneously accurate and not. While the episode does indeed guest star Bebe Neuwirth and does indeed take place at Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving is tangential to the plot and doesn’t involve Neuwirth at all. The episode does one of those “Frasier” forecast and switches, where the opening introduces the idea the A plot is going to be Kelsey Grammer, David Hyde Pierce, and John Mahoney going to Hyde Pierce’s luxury cabin to celebrate the holiday, with Neuwirth accompanying she and Grammer’s son, Trevor Einhorn. It’s Einhorn’s first appearance of many as the kid; he’s good.

    The first scene has Hyde Pierce on the phone with the caretaker while Peri Gilpin and Jane Leeves have quick scenes—Leeves is going somewhere else, Gilpin is house-sitting the apartment. There are a bunch of good one-liners for everyone, even if it’s obviously a way to get Leeves and Gilpin out of the action so we can just enjoy Mahoney being miserable around Neuwirth.

    But wait!

    Grammer gets a phone call and it turns out they can’t go to the cabin, they all have to go to Boston—Grammer and Neuwirth have to go to an entrance interview for Einhorn to go to a shishi poopoo private school on Thanksgiving morning. It’ll be Thanksgiving in Boston.

    While Grammer and Neuwirth are at the interview, Hyde Pierce is in charge of cooking the turkey and Mahoney’s babysitting Einhorn. Despite the continent-trotting, it’s a very contained episode—there’s the apartment at the beginning, Neuwirth’s kitchen, then the large living room of school headmaster Paxton Whitehead. The present action is a few hours, as Neuwirth and Grammer fret over how they’ve done in the interview and continue to pester Whitehead, even crashing his Thanksgiving dinner.

    Meanwhile, Hyde Pierce and Mahoney are breaking the very delicate Einhorn with baseballs, refrigerator doors, and anchovies.

    Whitehead’s a perfect guest star, especially for the intensity of Grammer and Neuwirth, who are even more outrageous when acting in unison than against one another. It’s a great guest spot for Neuwirth, whose presence tempers the entire cast and they all get to react against it in different ways. She and Grammer are superb together.

    Excellent script, credited to Chuck Ranberg and Anne Flett-Giordano—Gilpin and Leeves have a wonderful moment bonding over Grammer being so difficult—and fine direction as usual from Jeff Melman.

    It’s not a “Lilith Thanksgiving” or even much of a Thanksgiving episode, but it’s still a hilarious episode with great performances from the guest stars and the regular cast.


  • Michael Hayes (1997) s01e04 – The Doctor’s Tale

    I’d forgotten how once upon a time the evils of liberal Hollywood meant trying to warn how for-profit healthcare in the United States was a terrible thing and now we’re twenty years on and it’s even worse. It’s such a lovely combination of distressing and depressing.

    This episode opens with governor’s goon Gregg Henry (who’s such a perfect sleaze ball) coming to David Caruso’s office to get him to sign off on a letter saying the corrupt healthcare company the state is going into business with isn’t corrupt. Caruso won’t sign it because he’s not corrupt, he’s the only good white guy, leading Henry to whine to Peter Outerbridge about it, which doesn’t end up giving Outerbridge anything to do in the episode because while Outerbridge isn’t a bad guy, he’s not a good guy.

    Only Caruso’s a good guy; it’s a lot of weight to carry but Caruso’s really good at it. This episode’s the smoothest so far; I’d been worried about it because Peter Weller’s back directing and he tried very hard to be hip with his previous episode but seems to have figured out his 4:3 composition by this one. And Roger Neill’s music is better than it’s ever been, so much so it’s surprising. It’s delicate at times.

    The Doctor in the title refers to guest star Patricia Kalember, who’s going to have to be Caruso’s star witness against the insurance company whether she or Caruso like it. Allen Garfield is the slime bag attorney for the insurance company—the difference between Henry’s sleaze ball and Garfield’s slime bag is Garfield’s got greasy hair and a ponytail you wish Caruso would’ve cut off after their showdown—and he’s going to ruin Kalember’s life and Caruso’s case. Kalember tried to get some tests done, the insurance company denied them, little boy is now dying faster from leukemia. There’s actually a lot of character development for Caruso in the episode as he finds further resolve—he thought he could just wing it on his Irish male pride (this episode’s the first time they mention the Irish… impressive patience)—but the show can’t quite address it.

    Garfield’s media takedown of Kalember only works because of sexism and misogyny and it only works on Caruso because of sexism and misogyny, so when he gets through it—because “Hayes” is a show written by dudes in the nineties—it hinges on a revelation about Kalember’s character. Her character’s character. They emphasize it as a “eureka” moment—desperate even with the best acting—but do at least give Caruso a good solo contemplation scene to work his way through it. More problematic is probably Rebecca Rigg’s embrace of the takedown, though there’s nothing like realizing she couldn’t just be super smart, she also had to be super smart and wear short skirts.

    Rigg is the best lawyer at the U.S. Attorney’s office, something Philip Baker Hall (who’s got one scene to manipulatively inspire Caruso against the blue bloods) didn’t appreciate. This episode is Caruso and Rigg trying to work out the case, Caruso and Kalember not bonding but being stuck in the life raft together, and everyone else is background. Hillary Danner helps with the case but not significantly, Ruben Santiago-Hudson interviews a witness and tells a couple jokes (somewhat problematically since it’s a demotion—Santiago-Hudson’s much better with this material), and Mary B. Ward shows up for a single scene—in an apartment instead of the established house they’d been living in—to pretend the family plot line is essential. They even rush the talk about Ward’s terrible marriage to Caruso’s good for nothing brother.

    Yet, even with Kalember being good with a “good for a guest star on a primetime drama” asterisk, it’s the best episode yet. There’s a really good balance between the lawyer stuff and emphasizing the actors—Caruso, Rigg, and Kalember—and it works. Weller having a better handle on his composition helps immensely.

    I can’t decide if it’d be better or worse if they finally just let Caruso punch out one of the blue blood crooks instead of just silently judging them. Again, Caruso’s good at the righteous judgement and “Michael Hayes” does have enough tone problems already so maybe it’s time to trust Paul Haggis.

    Never thought I’d type those words again. But it’s getting to where—with the nineties primetime drama asterisk—“Michael Hayes” is good.