One-Percent Warrior (2023, Yamaguchi Yudai)

The One-Percent in One-Percent Warrior’s title does not refer to the super-rich, but rather when someone transcends in their film-related martial arts excellence. The majority of the film is just a forty-minute action sequence with star Sakaguchi Tak roaming around an abandoned zinc factory—on its own little CGI island—and kicking various butt. A lot of it is the same butt. It was in the second or third big beat-down I realized all of the bad guys have their faces covered so they can keep getting beaten down.

But forty minutes isn’t a movie, so Warrior’s has a very complicated story tacked on.

The movie opens with documentary interview footage about how Sakaguchi’s such a badass; even though he’s just an action movie star, he can kick his special forces buddies’ asses too. He can dodge bullets. Sakaguchi doesn’t necessarily get a lot to do in the film—even when he’s got the big reveal, which I’ll dance around later—he doesn’t do a lot. But he manages to make the bullet dodging believable.

And he’s socially awkward enough you can believe it when he can’t hold a steady job. His latest gig is on a period piece where he very quickly mouths off too much and gets fired. On this particular job, however, he meets Fukuyama Kohei, who thinks Sakaguchi’s an action god. Fukuyama becomes Sakaguchi’s sidekick and trainee, listening to Sakaguchi talk about his martial arts and his dream of the perfect action film.

So much talking.

Fukuyama convinces Sakaguchi to try to get funding, which leads them to the abandoned zinc factory island. They’ve got to find a location, after all. There, they discover another film crew already scouting the same location. Before that scene even finishes, Warrior adds the next plot wrinkle—they’re both scouting a location where a dead mobster hid his cocaine and now one set of bad guys has brought the dead mobster’s daughter (Fukuda Rumika) to find it.

Except… there’s also another set of mobsters who want the cocaine, so they’re trying to kill those gangsters without hurting Fukuda. They’ve got other gangster’s daughter Harumi Kanon with them. Harumi’s a vicious killer, not naive like Fukuda, so there’s a whole juxtaposition thing.

Fukuyama will end up bonding with Fukuda, but there’s no payoff for it, which stinks because Fukuyama’s really likable in the scenes. It also stinks because it plays into the third act reveal, which part and parcel lifts one of the more famous movie twists from the twentieth century. While Warrior uses the twist just to get to stop the movie—it’s very low budget, and they do a lot with that budget, but there’s a limit, and they do hit it multiple times—but the twist also suggests there’s all sorts of character development they could’ve done but didn’t. Even within the constraints of the established format (the documentary interviews and so on).

It’s a real bummer because Warrior overcomes a turgid first act to actually get moving once the action starts. Sakaguchi can obviously do his job, but Fukuda, Harumi, Fukuyama—they all come through. Even the gangsters are solid. Warrior goes into the finale much stronger than expected, albeit because we’re worried about characters we may or may not need to be worried about, but still. Warrior’s second act rally is significant.

And then it all crashes down.

The Moon (2023, Kim Yong-hwa)

The Moon runs about two hours, but it’s got enough story for eight. About the only way to tell all the story it’s got overflowing would be a miniseries remake. And even then, you could probably toss on another couple of episodes to even it all out.

The film concerns South Korea’s second attempt at a moon landing. Their first attempt blew up five years before this one. Moon takes place in 2029, so the first attempt was 2024. It doesn’t so much take place in the near future as the immediate future and then the very near future. Except, for all the truthiness of Moon, there isn’t any. Korea’s doing a solo moon mission because they want to take all the water out of the moon (we’ve discovered there’s probably water under the surface, and whoever controls the water controls the spice). The United States and all the other English-speaking countries with white people have teamed up to share the moon–no word on anyone else.

The U.S.-led group also has a space station orbiting the moon at all times. It has landers on it so they can go down and do a Tom Hanks-inspired skip and sing whenever they want, but Moon almost immediately establishes no one has walked on the moon since the seventies. This new mission is going to be the first time since then. Actually, wait, it might be possible only Americans have walked on the moon, including since the seventies, which means they don’t let the other astronauts on the lunar space station go walking on the moon because Americans are dicks.

Americans are dicks is another of Moon’s subplots, it turns out. See–and buckle in–disgraced Korean Astronautics and Space Center (NASC) flight director Sol Kyung-gu, who oversaw the previous tragic mission, is back because he designed the control module, and they need him. His ex-wife (Kim Hee-ae) dumped him, moved to the United States, renounced her Korean heritage, married a white dude to raise her son with her, and became the head of NASA. Lots of Moon involves Kim telling Sol to shove it whenever they need help.

Now, there’s the subtext about South Korea wanting to strip-mine the moon and not share with anyone else, especially Kim. It’s bizarre. The geopolitical implications are all very, very strange.

But Moon doesn’t get into any of them. Not when it’s also got one of the astronauts–Do Kyung-soo–vastly unqualified for the mission. It turns out his dad (Lee Sung-min in a not-tiny but always silent cameo) was Sol’s partner on the previous mission, and when it went bad, Lee was the one who killed himself in disgrace. Another big thing about The Moon–basically all of the Korean guys in authority positions imply they frequently consider suicide instead of having to apologize or be uncomfortable. It’s so much.

But also Sol and Do don’t know they’re working together. And they have so many secrets from one another.

Presumably, Do has another secret, which somehow the film felt the need to cut–he’s supposed to be an elite ROK Navy SEAL, except he’s terrible under pressure and spends all his time not under pressure panicking about being under pressure. The other astronauts–who disobey orders and kick ass because they’re astronauts, bro–make fun of him for being such a worry wart.

There’s also Sol’s sidekick, Hong Seung-hee, taking up screen time because they wanted an ingenuine (at one point, she and Do seem like they’re going to have a long-distance connection, but it’s actually nothing, which is weird). Oh, and new KASC political appointee Jo Han-chul is freaking out about everything because he wanted an easy government job without any responsibility.

See, it could easily go eight episodes. I haven’t even gotten into the constant terror everyone finds themselves in once things start going wrong.

Not talking about what goes wrong isn’t necessarily a “no spoilers” decision, either. The Moon’s a science and technology thriller a la Apollo 13 but since it’s based in a poorly thought-out reality (courtesy director Kim’s script) and doesn’t pretend to know any of the engineering whatsoever… it’s just a bunch of words and visuals out of other movies. The special effects are great, no complaints in that department, but they’re just showing various, pre-existing visual tropes.

In all, Moon’s not original (though letting melodrama knock a science thriller off course so much isn’t common), but it’s usually compelling. Do’s not good, but he’s sympathetic. It’d have helped if they revealed he’d faked his way onto the mission, just so the KASC astronauts don’t seem incompetent. Sol’s fine, but there’s not a part there. The rest of the supporting cast is solid–Jo’s a lot of fun, always in the background.

The Moon’s a very tense, simultaneously bloated and thin special effects extravaganza. The only thing missing is the human drama, making it a phenomenal contrast between that genre and melodrama.

Dr. Cheon and the Lost Talisman (2023, Kim Seong-sik)

Until the third act, when it suddenly becomes clear the film never really had anywhere to go (at least not in this installment), Dr. Cheon is mostly delightful. Even the listless ending isn’t not entertaining, it’s just listless.

After a magic-heavy dream sequence opening, Cheon settles into the gag–Gang Dong-won is a “doctor” who solves hauntings for his YouTube channel. Lee Dong-hwi plays his faithful sidekick, who does all the editing, takes the pay, doesn’t ask too many questions. Not even about Gang’s actual scheme: he’s a trained psychiatrist who knows he can’t cure people’s cultural beliefs in ghosts but can address the symptoms.

Or something. Lee doesn’t care as long as the checks clear.

It will turn out Gang’s actually using the actual mental health help racket to track down the very real, very evil shaman who killed his little brother and grandfather. Huh Joon-ho plays the evil shaman, who can possess people with ease, which makes for numerous good chase sequences and fight scenes. Dr. Cheon’s least realistic element might be Gang’s adeptness as a combination street and sword fighter. While the film hints at his quest to identify Huh (whose existence is something of a theory between Gang and his mentor, Kim Jong-soo), there’s no indication Gang’s been training.

Maybe it just comes with the magic.

The setup involves Gang and Lee taking damsel-in-distress Esom’s case and heading to a remote village. Esom can see dead people all around her and so on, including the evil spirit inhabiting her little sister, Park So-yi. Esom’s ostensibly going to be Lee’s love interest (Gang’s got no time for love), but no one told Esom. And then the movie itself forgets about it towards the end. Dr. Cheon only runs ninety-eight minutes, and they’re clawing for that runtime; there’s lots of delay. Good thing the cast’s so fun.

Well, Gang, Lee, and Kim. And Park to some degree. Since Esom’s in the place of Gang’s love interest but isn’t, she’s missing traditional functions. For a while, it seems like she might have more significance than a plot delivery device.

She does not.

Huh’s a threatening villain, but still cartoonish.

For most of the film, director Kim keeps a fine pace going, balancing the comic and action sequences. The story’s small but big, with the second act dipping into the flashback well a little at a time until the whole story finally comes out. But the geography–Esom and Park’s haunted village and its immediate surroundings (well, drivable immediate surroundings)–is rather finite. And since the movie spends the first half pretending Gang shouldn’t have a plan for this eventuality (one of his “fake” exorcisms leading to the real magic bad guy), it starts feeling cramped.

So instead of focusing on Gang, Dr. Cheon leans heavily on everyone else. Esom’s got damsel stuff, Lee and Kim have sidekick stuff, Huh’s got evil stuff. Gang’s around a lot and gets to charm a lot, but he doesn’t have a character arc. Not even the foreboding revenge arc; Kim warns Gang not to act with vengeance in his heart and whatnot, but it doesn’t even matter. Especially not once the film goes all out with the CGI in the third act. There’s a lot of smart, action-oriented magic on display in the set pieces in the first and second acts, but the third act decides it’s time to unlock the secrets of the universe onscreen.

It’s way too much for such little emotional stakes, derailing the film. And there’s not time to get it back on track. Dr. Cheon goes out with a bang, which is not what it needs.

Hopefully, they’ll figure out something for Gang to do in the next one.

Even if they don’t, get enough of the cast back, and it won’t matter.

Dr. Cheon’s a fun ride, but it’s (too?) determined just to be the beginning.

The Childe (2023, Park Hoon-jung)

For the first half or so, The Childe ostensibly has three lead characters. The protagonist is Kang Tae-ju; he’s a half-Korean, half-Filipino illegitimate son of a Korean rich guy. Life has sucked, leading to Kang becoming an underground boxing champ (which has so shockingly little to do with the movie it’s like they forgot it was a thing), which keeps him and Mom going, but then she gets sick. She needs an operation, so he starts trying to track down Dad in Korea.

For a while, Dad doesn’t want to be found, but just as things get worse, Dad sends his lawyer (Heo Joon-seok, who—at forty-two—is the old square in Childe) to whisk Kang to Korea. See, Dad’s sick and wants Kang to be there. For sure, they’ll pay for Mom’s surgery, and everything will be fine.

Except Childe doesn’t start with Kang’s only boxing match; it starts with the runaway star of the film, Kim Seon-ho, taking out a room of bad guys in spectacularly bloody fashion. Kim’s been tracking Kang, adding another ominous layer, and then shows up on the plane to Korea, now directly interacting with Kang. At this point, the film starts giving Kang a lot less to do. Based on this less-is-more approach, I wonder if maybe Kang wasn’t able to keep up with Kim, so they quieted him down instead of having him outdone, charismatically speaking.

Anyway.

Then comes Kim Kang-woo, who’s also overtly charismatic. Kim has the most challenging part in the film because he’s playing a nepo-baby vicious gangster. He’s Kang’s half-brother, and he’s got his reasons for being happy (and not happy) they’re bringing Kang over. Kim’s simultaneously a dipshit, a monster, and comic relief (he berates his staff, basically, because they’re dumb thugs). It’s a rocky part, but Kim hangs on through all the plot twists and frankly bat shit plot developments (whenever Childe gets bored, it brings out the ultra-violence, like writer and director Park is just reminding everyone they might want to leave if they don’t like actual buckets of blood); he’s great.

The film somewhat balances between Kang, Kim Seon-ho, and Kim Kang-woo until Go Ara comes back in. Go’s a Korean tourist whom Kang meets in the Philippines, and they get off on the wrong foot (for a South Korean film, Childe’s subtext is South Koreans are racist, materialistic bastards and should be avoided at all costs). In the second half, the film’s going to sap Kang’s agency entirely. Kim Seon-ho gets most of it, but Go will get a bit too. Then it’ll turn out to be a red herring—Go’s return to the story—and we’ll go back to Kim Seon-ho and Kim Kang-woo pretending Kang matters when really it’s just about them spitting chunks of scenery at each other.

Solid direction from Park, some great photography from Shin Tae-ho, and a nice soundtrack (both Mowg’s score and the song selections).

The Childe needed to figure out something to give Kang to do throughout, especially considering how little his first act turns out to matter, but otherwise, it’s a reasonably nail-biting action picture. Lots of blood, some quickly cut (or heavily implied) gore, but also lots of humor, dark and light. Kim Seon-ho’s spellbinding.

It’s good stuff.

Doom Patrol (2019) s04e12 – Done Patrol

As usual with “Doom Patrol,” I wasn’t expecting that turn of events. I knew “Patrol” had planned something conclusive for this season, but Done Patrol is a last episode, not a season finale before a refresh. They knew and didn’t play chicken with renewal, which is exemplary these days.

The team—Diane Guerrero, Joivan Wade, Michelle Gomez, Matt Bomer (and Matthew Zuk), and Brendan Fraser (Riley Shanahan)—returns from the time stream, ready to battle Charity Cervantes and the Butts, but then a deus ex machine arrives at the same time. This season has had some weird straggler plot threads—split into two halves, with the second half delayed thanks to bad corporate decisions; given how long subplots disappear, it’s the most binge-inclined season of the show.

Also, as usual, the team has to decompress after the big action. They’re aging, some more gracefully than others, and everyone’s got a severe sense of resignation. While April Bowlby’s committed to peacing out on her terms and Gomez is terrified to live without her, everyone else is ready for some significant character changes. Some, of course, have seen the future, while others are getting over their fears of the present.

The show’s got six characters to resolve to be Done, and some get a little more, some a little less. “Doom Patrol”’s always been about hard realities, and the conclusion’s no different. Does it reach into the chest and pummel the heart before playing the most delicate aria on the heartstrings? Yes, yes, it does. It fulfills so much, even as it remains—to the end—all about unfulfilled lives.

The best performance in the episode, adjusted for screen time (sort of, I guess), is Fraser. Then Gomez, then Guerrero, then Bowlby, then Bomer, then Wade. And Wade’s excellent. So there’s a lot of exquisite acting going on. Oh, and then Cervantes. Can’t forget Cervantes. She’s been another boon this season. Half-season. Speaking of boons, Madeline Zima. She’s so good, so good.

I just discovered there’s a cameo in the episode I didn’t know about when watching, but it’s just making everything even sadder, so no spoilers. I’m too verklempt.

Shoshana Sachi and Ezra Claytan Daniels get the writing credit for the finish; it’s a fine script covering all the show’s bases, and director Chris Manley knows how to direct these actors in these scenes. It’s the ones they’ve been working towards for four seasons. “Patrol”’s done wonders with character development on a “comic book” TV show.

Some gorgeous music from Kevin Kiner and Clint Mansell.

Despite the fungible aspect of comic books and comic book adaptations, it’s safe to say there will never be another “Doom Patrol,” not with this cast, not with this crew. They made something special here, and it’ll be a divine binge someday.

Grantchester (2014) s08e04

“Grantchester” toes an interesting line with religion and religiosity. It avoids it. Yes, the show’s full of religious imagery, complete with beautifully lighted sequences where Tom Brittney gives a lovely sermon and it’s never about being shitty; it’s always about how God’s actually all for the gays and so forth. Because, besides Brittney and Al Weaver, all of the characters on the show are functionally atheists. Even the extremely religious Tessa Peake-Jones. She doesn’t believe the way Brittney and Weaver believe.

It comes out this episode big time with Brittney. Turns out he lied to Charlotte Ritchie last episode, and he’s not okay; he’s not getting better—even worse, we find out God doesn’t talk to him anymore. Now, no spoilers, but we will find out some things about how God speaks to Brittney. Good tortured expression acting from Brittney; if writer Helen Black wasn’t trying to make a certain point, however… well, it’s concerning. Or is it just going to be about the de-faithing of England. Or it’s just a story arc and not a big deal.

God abandoning Brittney is a story arc because they need to get Brittney moping. “Grantchester” was infamously about a mopey vicar who got drunk, listened to jazz, and bedded many, many women while mooning over some shallow girl. Brittney isn’t that mopey vicar. He doesn’t have the mope down, not as an actor, not as a character. When Brittney mopes, it feels like he’s overstepping—“Grantchester”’s supposed to be an ensemble now, and his moping is getting in the way. Also, he’s not being self-destructive; he’s just moping.

He’s not even listening to jazz.

Good mystery this episode. One of Weaver’s halfway house residents turns up dead. Santo Tripodi plays the victim. Halfway house troublemaker Narinder Samra is a too-obvious suspect. “Grantchester” has been letting Samra simmer nicely in the background for a couple episodes, and it really pays off here–Samra’s phenomenal. See, even though the town wants the halfway house gone, when Brittney and Robson Green start investigating, they learn these men mostly just lost their way after a war. So it’s a very personal case.

And let’s not forget Peake-Jones’s husband, Nick Brimble, is paying for the halfway house, which Weaver started after deciding he didn’t want to run his cafe (which Brimble also paid for), leaving boyfriend Oliver Dimsdale to run the cafe and be a photographer. Weaver’s got a tough arc this episode. They leave it open, too, so hopefully, we’ll get some more material for Weaver and Dimsdale before the season’s done.

There are only two more episodes, so if it’s not a subplot by now, it won’t be a subplot.

It also seems like Ritchie won’t figure in prominently, which is too bad. Especially since Brittney’s just moping instead.

Anyway.

Good supporting performances from all the suspects—David Rubin as the guy with a locked room alibi, George Brockbanks as an old collar of Green’s, Jessie Bedrossian as the one female resident in the house, who might be causing love triangles. It’s a really good mystery–definitely the best of the season, with a great finale.

And Simone Lahbib’s still around. She joined last episode as Weaver’s maid, who now gets into competitions with Peake-Jones, which is hilarious. It gives Brimble a little more to do than usual. He’s still mostly an accessory, but he gets to keep pace with an amped-up Peake-Jones.

Outside the ending, which just foretells more sad Brittney… it’s a stellar episode. Director Rob Evans and writer Anita Vettesse cook up a model “Grantchester.”

Doom Patrol (2019) s04e11 – Portal Patrol

As penultimate episodes go, Portal Patrol is a doozy. The team has found themselves stranded in the time stream, so it’s good Joivan Wade got his Cyborg upgrades because he has to make them a little pod to survive. The current stakes are saving the world and April Bowlby (who doesn’t appear this episode), so when they discover holes in time where they might be able to regain their missing immortality, everyone heads out on assignment.

Now, the opening titles spoil a big guest star—Timothy Dalton. Former series regular slash ostensible lead, who’s been dead for seasons at this point, and everyone’s still trying to work through the traumas he’s inflicted. Brendan Fraser (and Riley Shanahan) meet Dalton in the past when he’s on an outing with recurring guest star Mark Sheppard. Except they’re in 1948, so neither Dalton nor Sheppard knows Fraser. And Fraser’s left trying to reason with a fascinated Dalton and a drunk Sheppard. Outstanding acting from Fraser, Dalton, and Shanahan. The body work this episode’s terrific.

Diane Guerrero and Matt Bomer (and Matthew Zuk) find themselves in the more recent past, in the Doom Patrol mansion. Guerrero’s on a combination “dying of old age” and just getting some of her PTSD resolved arc, so she’s drawn to all the old VHS tapes of her (now missing) personas. Meanwhile, Bomer and Zuk confront… Bomer and Zuk. Bomer’s current alien symbiote star child goes to find the former alien symbiote star child, and Bomer gets into an argument with it. Of course, he does.

But Guerrero runs into Dalton, and they sit down for one last session; she’s out of time, he’s fascinated but also worried about the future knowledge.

Speaking of future knowledge, Wade—who sends out an SOS to the time stream, which seems like how you’d bring back a now deceased special guest star, but isn’t—Wade has a heck of a little arc.

Michelle Gomez journeys into her own past, where she briefly encounters Dalton (despite them being renowned nemeses, I’m not sure the show ever gave them a sustained scene) before running afoul of other people she doesn’t like–really good Gomez performance.

Everyone’s really good, of course. Dalton’s so good.

It ends up being Guerrero’s episode, with Fraser, Bomer, and Gomez sharing the B slots, then Wade getting the C. Watching Guerrero in this episode, I had the odd sensation of remembering when she wasn’t good on the show and wondering how that period plays in the greater context of the show. For the someday rewatch.

But for now, there’s one more Patrol to go, and they’re in excellent shape for it.

Big shoutouts to the script (credited to Chris Dingess) and then Chris Manley’s direction. Portal knows what it’s doing.

Grantchester (2014) s08e03

Al Weaver directed this episode, which I think is the first time one of the show’s stars has directed an episode. Weaver’s got a little to do on screen—he’s worried about Tom Brittney, who’s moping after hitting the guy with his motorcycle, but it’s all okay. I mean, okay in the sense Brittney’s not getting charged. The guy’s dead. The season’s A plot is vicar Brittney killed some guy by total accident, but also a complicated total accident.

Brittney feels terrible about it. And he doesn’t want to talk to Weaver or anyone else about it. He wants to talk to God about it. But he’s too busy with the case—and his friends interfering. In addition to Weaver worrying about him, there’s Kacey Ainsworth, whose concern brings Brittney and Robson Green into the mystery plot. Ainsworth takes Brittney out for a nice day at a college museum, with Green tagging along. First, there are some coeds—not at that college, because it’s the men’s college, no girls even on campus if they can help it—who are protesting in various states of undress about double standards regarding the female form in art and actuality.

Their demonstration coincides with the famous painting everyone’s there to see going missing. Then, later on, when Bradley Hall is on the scene investigating, he discovers a body. So now it’s a murder.

The episode then toggles between this far-reaching investigation—it’s all about how men, regardless of class, are shitty to women, but men of higher class can also be shitty to men of lower class. It’s the British way, after all.

Meanwhile, Brittney’s getting sick of the interfering—Tessa Peake-Jones also gets some of his ire, leading to a fun moment between Peake-Jones and Weaver. It’ll all come to a head—multiple times—as he gets angrier and angrier.

Ainsworth and Green have some detached family crisis—he’s probably losing his job, and she just got called in to see her boss, who doesn’t like her. Then Oliver Dimsdale convinces Weaver to hire a maid—Simone Lahbib—to improve conditions around the halfway house.

It’s a balanced episode, though little kid Isaac Highams is missing when he shouldn’t be.

And Melissa Johns gets quite a bit to do with the female protestors. The show tries to acknowledge she’s aware the cops are problematic, but then she still plays the game. “Grantchester”’s really not afraid to make their characters unlikable at times—see Brittney’s loud, angry power mope in this episode.

Thanks to the intricate plotting and Weaver’s solid direction, the episode goes off without a hitch.

Doom Patrol (2019) s04e10 – Tomb Patrol

How do you follow up an episode where your season villain, an omnipotent time deity played by Charity Cervantes, changed the entire world into a musical? If you’re “Doom Patrol,” with an almost limitless well of human despair. The main cast—April Bowlby, Diane Guerrero, Matt Bomer, and Brendan Fraser—are all rapidly aging to their deaths. And half of them have either new or pre-existing conditions in play as well; they’re not just on the decline; they’re even further than they expected.

While Bowlby is playing Donna Reed to ignore the situation, Guerrero, Bomer, and Fraser are all luxuriating in their individual miseries. Guerrero can’t find the other personas in the Underground, and she’s thinking maybe she does like that girl (Madeline Zima, who only appears in flashbacks), but she’s also having uncontrollable slips in time back to her profound childhood abuse. Bomer—with Matthew Zuk doing a fantastic job doing the physical work on set—is trying to figure out what to do about his radioactive space symbiote when he dies. It means he doesn’t have time for love interest Sendhil Ramamurthy, who’s also about to die because Cervantes turned out to be a high school theater department narcissist and not a benevolent god. It also means Bomer doesn’t have time for best friend Bowlby.

And then Fraser just wants to go see his daughter and grandson, trying to involve Guerrero in his shenanigans, but she’s still a little put out he betrayed them all. Except she can’t stay mad at him forever (how could you), giving the duo a fantastic mutual despondence arc. Absolutely phenomenal body acting from Riley Shanahan this episode, too. So, so good.

Joivan Wade is off at Star Labs with dad Phil Morris, talking through his regrets at giving up Cyborg. It’s basically just an opportunity to get Wade and Morris a scene in before the end of the season (and show, we now know); it’s so good to see Morris again. It’s also a good showcase for Wade, who gets to hash out a lot of his internal angst.

Wade’s not dying with the rest of the team, nor is Michelle Gomez. Gomez spends the episode trying to save the Doom Patrol, except they’re all too aged to want to help. Bowlby, in particular, has resigned herself to her fate, which figures into the outstanding cliffhanger.

All the acting’s real good. Bowlby gets a great scene “with” Bomer (I do wonder how they record his conversations; are they really just dubbing him over line readings, in which case the other actors are even better). Gomez has some great moments (she’s the show’s de facto lead at this point). Cervantes is great.

The show’s trucking along just fine towards its finish. Director Omar Madha might not have clicked with the musical material, but he’s real darn good with the angst.

Oh, and the butts.

The butts are back.

All Creatures Great and Small (2020) s04e03 – Right Hand Man

Right Hand Man reintroduces the idea of a triumvirate to the veterinary practice. Nicholas Ralph has put in for a student to be placed with them, Samuel West’s nasty attitude be damned. We meet James Anthony-Rose before Ralph and West, as Anthony-Rose discovers all the street signs have been taken down in the village (to prevent the Bosch from finding their way), and he has an amusing lost montage.

He arrives just in time to help Ralph with Patricia Hodge’s latest dog problem. Not little Tricki Woo (played by Derek again, but also Dora, which makes me worry about Derek’s health), but rather a bulldog she’s taken in while his owner’s off at war. Anthony-Rose puts his foot in it, and we’re off to the races.

The episode’s got a lot going on. Having decided to have a baby, Ralph and wife Rachel Shenton are trying to find some time to work on making one. Ralph’s going to be busy with Hodge’s bulldog, while West’s got a horse with an allergy problem. Anthony-Rose offers his advice in both, with part of the gag being how unhelpful his (purely academic) advice can be. Then there’s the Anthony-Rose training subplot, which West unexpectedly takes point on, giving Ralph pause. Ralph’s various pauses stress out Shenton even more. She has a good scene with Hodge about being… well, okay, about being wives, but even as it bellyflops on Bechdel, it’s a good scene. There’s some very solid character development for Hodge in the scene, too.

Meanwhile, Anna Madeley’s very gentle romance with Will Thorp continues.

Speaking of very gentle, the war makes its presence (and its impending effects) known, with West getting into it with the local trainees about how they’re disrespecting the Yorkshire ways. It’ll figure into the main plot a couple ways, but also how—Shenton reminds everyone—the war’s still coming, and they might lose Ralph at any minute. Something Ralph’s not thinking about, which the show’s also been avoiding the last couple episodes.

And even though the show’s finally acknowledged the war’s not done with it, it’s still unclear if “Creatures” will be able to incorporate the foreboding or just use it in one-offs.

Anyway. There are some great veterinary scenes, good or better moments for pretty much everyone, and Anthony-Rose certainly seems like a fine addition to the regular cast. For how long? Well, I suppose I could Google, but I shan't.