Doom Patrol (2019) s04e08 – Fame Patrol

And this, ladies, germs, zombie butts, is what is called an hour of television. Or, well, forty-two minutes of television. “Doom Patrol” once again knocks it out of the park, but then the ball ricochets and pings around the ballpark, going out of the park and then pinging back in and out until the cliffhanger.

The perfectly done cliffhanger.

Fame Patrol gives the characters an impossible episode to endure. While the supervillain either did or didn’t come back in the form of Charity Cervantes, last seen a few seasons ago when Michelle Gomez first showed up (I think in a season finale tag, right?), the Doom Patrol’s got more personal problems going on.

Everybody hates Robotman (Brendan Fraser speaks, Riley Shanahan steps) for giving up his immortality because Cervantes’s cult told him he could see his grandson grow up. Mind you… the episode opens revealing Cervantes has killed everyone but the Doom Patrol in her awakening, including her cult. It turns out to be a great episode for Fraser and Abi Monterey, who’s gotten back to her surrogate family when they need her the most—they’re all rapidly aging and will be dying soon.

She takes on Fraser as a project while her new friend, played by Madeline Zima, tries to help Diane Guerrero. Guerrero is experiencing rapid aging while being unable to connect with her other personalities. She’s also upset about the world ending, maybe. It’s an excellent episode for Zima and Guerrero, too. There’s potentially a pin in it for later, but I’m hopeful “Doom Patrol” won’t do the characters dirty.

While Zima doesn’t share too much with Guerrero, she’s experiencing profound loss on a couple levels similar to Guerrero’s. The aforementioned dead cultists included her father, a space warlord (Zima’s a space cop), and her creator (Lima’s a comic book character). She’s very confused and in a lot of pain. The episode gives Zima and Monterey a lot of space to flex in their performances, even though they’re the supporting players in their scenes. The script—credit to Tamara Becher-Wilkinson—is simply exquisite in the character interactions. Perfect music from Kevin Kiner and Clint Mansell, especially for the Zima and Guerrero scenes.

Matt Bomer (voicing, with Matthew Zuk doing the bodywork) goes off to his room to mope—after making the very deft observation, Cervantes seems more like one of the team than their nemesis—only for Sendhil Ramamurthy to show up, looking for help in his disintegrated state. It’s a nice plot arc; not quite the weight of the other two, but nice. Ramamurthy and Bomer are great together. Or Ramamurthy and Zak. Or is it just Ramamurthy because he’s acting opposite someone who’s not responding? Or do Zuk and Shanahan read the lines while they’re shooting?

Anyway.

The last grouping is April Bowlby, Gomez, and Joivan Wade. Like I said, if Wade doesn’t have a dedicated guest star to play with, they don’t have anywhere to put him. Part of the plot will involve his (magically induced) obliviousness. He and Bowlby do get a nice scene together where she gets to play mentor again.

But Bowlby, Gomez, and Wade have the broadest plot strokes. Bowlby can’t stand Cervantes and wants to nuke her from orbit before she has a chance to time monster out on everyone (again). Gomez thinks there’s something weird about Cervantes no one else can see. And then Wade’s just along for the ride.

It ends up being, of course, a fantastic ride.

Excellent direction from Bosede Williams. “Doom Patrol”’s not slowing down. I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Maybe some man-eating zombie butts. One can only hope.

Grantchester (2014) s08e01

The mystery in “Grantchester”’s season premiere seems a tad simple. The episode’s got lots of foreshadowing—whether it’s the victim (warning: the episode kills a teenager, which is harsh), the suspects, or the season setup. I’d forgotten “Grantchester” saves the biggest twist for last, and the finale takes the proverbial cake away from the other established season subplots. Until the final scene, it seems like we’re in for a season involving Robson Green’s impending (and forced) retirement, newlyweds Tom Brittney and Charlotte Ritchie expecting a baby while Brittney learns to dad with step-son Isaac Highams, and then Al Weaver’s trying to start-up a halfway house amid NIMBY neighbors.

All of those subplots will doubtlessly continue, but none of them are going to be the main season plotline. It even ties into this episode’s mystery a little: the dangers of motorbiking.

While the people of “Grantchester” aren’t sure about having a bunch of young people, boys, girls, Blacks, whites, in motorcycle clubs, Brittney’s sure it’s a good idea. Local mechanic Shaun Dingwall agrees, turning his garage into a de facto clubhouse where the “gang” can fix up their bikes and hang out. In addition to Dingwall’s son, Elliot Norman, there’s Black (and deaf) orphan Jayden Reid, as well as “girls can bike too” Antonia Rita. Except, we’ll find out as the episode progresses, Rita’s about the only one who thinks girls should be allowed to bike. Especially in competition.

Everyone in “Grantchester” seems vaguely progressive until Rita talks about how Dingwall tells the kids how women competing would “lessen the sport.” More competition leads to less sportsmanship. Wokka wokka.

Brittney’s put together a charity race for the teen biker gangs, and—for a moment—the townspeople embrace the youth and their interests. It all goes wrong after the murder, of course, and the cliffhanger isn’t going to help things; but for a brief moment, Brittney’s convinced everyone to show some grace.

Though he’s having his own problems being graceful at home. Ritchie’s sensible atheism really doesn’t jibe with Brittney’s Anglicanism, especially not when she makes more sense than him.

The show’s gone from having, basically, a cast of four—Green, Weaver, vicarage housekeeper Tessa Peake-Jones (who doesn’t have a season subplot yet), and the hot young vicar (Brittney’s officially put in more time than James Norton at this point)—to twelve-ish. The show infamously doesn’t name Green and Kacey Ainsworth’s kids (other than Skye Lucia Degruttola, who got a subplot a few seasons ago), but they’re still around. With everyone paired off, there are plus ones, there are kids–so, big regular cast.

So big the initial season setup doesn’t even have time for a mystery.

The episode starts sturdy, a little predictable, sure, but in a victory lap sort of way. Then, the cliffhanger writes a big dramatic check for things going forward. This season’s not just going to be Green bucking against dipshit boss Michael D. Xavier and Brittney taking forever to listen to advice.

Can’t wait.

Though I’m sure Brittney will also take forever to listen to anyone else.

Doom Patrol (2019) s04e07 – Orqwith Patrol

Aka Thank Goodness Patrol. Sorry, just need to acknowledge how everyone was pretty sure MAX was going to delete the rest of “Doom Patrol” off the hard drive without dropping them.

Things pick back up where we left off–the team is in over their heads (again), and the end of the world is neigh (again), and they’re all too mad at each other to save it (again). It’s a glorious return, finally giving Joivan Wade a chance to air all of his character’s grievances in a strong scene. He’s teamed up with childhood friend grown-up Elijah R. Reed; they’re trapped in Orqwith with everyone else, but Reed doesn’t have any superpowers. Good thing drawings become reality in Orqwith.

Out of nowhere (well, almost), Wade blows up at Reed about how much being a superhero sucked, even if it led to Wade being a lousy friend too. Wade—sans cybernetics so long now you have to wonder if they’re coming back—doesn’t have exterior conflicts similar to his teammates, but he and Reed’s arc this episode perfectly showcases why he’s “Doom Patrol” material. It also shows how awkwardly the show is balanced. If it weren’t for Reed, Wade wouldn’t have anyone to team up with.

Diane Guerrero, Brendan Fraser (talking his part), and Riley Shanahan (walking the rest of that part) are also prisoners in Orqwith, except they’re on a different mission. Oh, right. Wade and Reed are trying to rescue Matt Bomer (voice) and Matthew Zuk (bandages). The episode’s got no room for Bomer’s moping, so they turn his rescue into a running joke. But the main stuff is Guerrero and Fraser bickering their way through newly revealed villain Daniel Annone’s Bond villain exposition dump, complete with an alternate-reality digression.

Guerrero needs Fraser to stay strong, except the only thing Fraser’s guaranteed not to do is stay strong.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Michelle Gomez and April Bowlby are trying to remain calm while enraged at one another. It’s a character relationship episode for them, and it’s so good. Gomez wants to make things work so they can save their friends—she’s on a redemption kick, after all—but Bowlby wants to focus on how Gomez is redemption arcing because she wronged the team. Bowlby especially.

And they have too much to drink.

The cliffhanger finale’s got a deep-cut reveal, and—like the best “Patrol”—is tragically human.

Bosede Williams’s direction is good. Orqwith isn’t the most visually interesting alternate dimension, but Williams finds the drama in all the scenes. She gives all the actors a little more time, which really pays off. Some great Clint Mansell and Kevin Kiner music, as usual; the great thing about “Patrol”’s score is how the show often uses it as a contrast. So this episode, there’s a contrasting energy to Gomez and Bowlby’s arguments. It doesn’t worry about matching the style; rather the intensity of the moments.

So good.

“Doom Patrol”’s so, so good. Thank goodness it survived.

All Creatures Great and Small (2020) s04e01 – Broodiness

“All Creatures” returns with an Easter special. Because the show’s changed so much since last time—Callum Woodhouse is off in World War II (it’s 1940)—the episode’s less the start of a new season than a special, which is fine, just a peculiar start. Since last episode (a Christmas special, so just a handful of months later), the veterinary clinic has found a new normal, well integrating Rachel Shenton into the house as de facto bookkeeper. Things seem to be going well (enough), but it’s hard to tell because Samuel West has given up tobacco for Lent, and it’s almost over, and he’s jonesing for a pipe.

Meanwhile, Nicolas Ralph seems to be taking to co-ownership in the practice well, while Anna Madeley’s ready to get on with her life and divorce her long-absent husband. It’s unclear where things stand with Madeley and just pal Will Thorp; despite her getting a relatively big setup for her divorce subplot (which includes an intentional public shaming stage), the episode doesn’t reveal much about her experience. “All Creatures” continues to keep reveals about Madeley for special occasions. Not even Easter is special enough.

The episode starts with Ralph taking a leisurely drive back to town from country, with “Creatures” showing off the beauty of the English countryside, then almost hitting little kid Billy Hickey and his dog. Hickey’s going to be Ralph’s nemesis for the episode, a poor kid who Ralph profiles and decides is mistreating the dog, even as Shenton tells him to give Hickey a chance and not to be a dipshit. West’s got his own medical case about a ewe who rejects her lamb, and how West’s forgetting he’s not the only one going through things, and farmer Paul Hilton might have it rough, too.

Back at the house, Madeley and Shenton share a subplot about medical supplies while mostly playing support to the boys. West will give Madeley some support in writing her divorce statement, but it’s for the eventual benefit of his character arc. Shenton and West get some great scenes together as part of the episode’s antics. “All Creatures” spends the first quarter of the episode showing how life has changed since war began—men are just gone, with the town trying to continue in their absence—and it’s all very serious. Hickey’s a kid in an unsafe, if not dangerous, situation, and so his plot has a lot of serious.

Broodiness compensates with downright sitcom antics around the house, with West as the butt of the joke. It works out, especially juxtaposed against West’s subplot about the farmer. “All Creatures” manages to do a deft contrast of West and Ralph’s cases for the episode and how the duty of care relates to each. It’s a very nice, eventually rending morale.

“All Creatures” gives no indication of what it’ll be doing this season, but this first episode does reassure wherever they go, it’ll be more than worth the trip.

Speaking of… the drone shots. Not just when Ralph or West is driving around town, but for some of the establishing shots; they got themselves a drone, and they know how to use it. Nice directing from Andy Hay, great photography from Sara Deane.

It’s so nice to have “Creatures” back.

Black Mirror (2011) s03e01 – Nosedive

If Nosedive is any indication, “Black Mirror” having guest writers isn’t going to help things. Rashida Jones and Michael Schur wrote the teleplay (they’d previously written “Parks and Recreation” together) from a story by “Mirror” creator Charlie Brooker. The episode also kicks off the show’s Netflix run; it had been on Channel 4, but Netflix took it over, hiring movie director Joe Wright to do a profoundly mediocre job.

Bryce Dallas Howard plays the lead, a woman obsessed with her social media score. Too low of a score, and you lose your job, your apartment, your freedom, and your ability to participate in the ratings game. It’s a similar setup to that “Orville” episode, which came out a year later; guess Seth MacFarlane watched “Black Mirror” and figured he could do better.

He’s not wrong, but let’s talk about Nosedive. Howard’s an incredibly likable lead, but it’s a mediocre script and performance. She’s an unlikable narcissist, desperate for approval from strangers, which drives a wedge in her relationship with brother James Norton. Now, “Mirror” is a very British show, except Nosedive’s pretending it’s not. Norton and co-star Alice Eve are British, while Howard and other co-star Cherry Jones are not. Norton and Eve do American accents, and the cars drive on the right side, so… is “Mirror” trying to appeal more globally? Jones and Schur are American sitcom writers, after all.

It’s a long, tedious episode about Howard getting her comeuppance and learning not everything is about what other people think about you. Michaela Coel’s cameo isn’t even good, but she’s got some personality, which the episode otherwise reviles in not delivering. “Mirror”’s rarely good at explaining the context well enough, but Nosedive takes that avoidance to a whole other level.

Jones is good. It’s not worth watching the rest of it, but she’s good.

“Mirror”’s best when it’s got great lead performances. Nosedive gives Howard a spotlight but then doesn’t give her anything to do in it. Except work her way through various sitcom beats.

Nosedive is so lackluster I was even hoping for one of those lousy “Mirror” end credits epilogues just to have something to discuss. I mean, I suppose there’s something to say about the episode’s take on social media, but there’s also not. Jones and Schur don’t even try to have flaccid observations; they just have excruciatingly dull gags.

If the Netflix episodes keep up the unnecessary length, I hope they at least build in nap time.

Black Mirror (2011) s02e03 – The Waldo Moment

“Black Mirror” creator and episode writer Charlie Brooker really loves mentioning Twitter in episodes. It’s practically a drinking game, and it at least makes some sense time-wise because most of this episode takes place in the present. During the end credits, just like last episode, we get a flash forward to show how our new modern age has gone awry, and Brooker starts beating each and every viewer over the head with the message.

Multiple epilogues are great if you’re good at them and have a reason for them. Brooker just uses them in a way I had to look up solipsism again. “Black Mirror” ostensibly takes place in a multiverse of endless shitty possibilities, but I’m pretty sure—at least based on a two-thirds of this season—they’re all just hard solipsists and don’t pay enough attention to anyone else to realize their perception’s whacked.

Anyway.

The Waldo Moment.

It’s mostly great.

It stumbles in the third act, real hard. Jason Flemyng somehow manages not to be able to play a perfectly realistic sleaze bag billionaire. It’s an incredibly easy part, but Flemyng is so absent charisma he flops. I’m not even sure Flemyng does a bad job; he’s just entirely miscast.

The episode’s already in some acting trouble thanks to lead Daniel Rigby. He’s been voicing this cartoon character Waldo on a TV show with a title seemingly spoofing “Last Week Tonight,” but it’s from a year before, so maybe “LWT” ripped off “Black Mirror.” Cool.

Rigby hates his job because no one likes him for him. They don’t like white British guys who can’t get any sun because it’s clear his skin would burn off; they like Waldo, an obscene, blue cartoon bear whose accent isn’t not Black. Waldo’s got a gold-capped tooth.

Anyway.

Just as Rigby’s having another crisis and being too needy with another ex-girlfriend, promising young woman Chloe Pirrie is interviewing for a position running as the Labour candidate. She’s not going to beat the slimy Tory (Tobias Menzies), but it’ll look great on her CV.

It all collides because Menzies has the dumb idea of doing an interview with Waldo, where Waldo offends Menzies, and then Menzies files a complaint. So Rigby’s producer—Christina Chong, who’s too likable to be cutthroat, so she’s utterly passive—decides they’ll take Waldo out in a van where Rigby can perform and taunt Menzies live on the campaign trail. Pretty soon, Waldo’s invited to the debate.

Oh, and Rigby seduces Pirrie.

Except politics is war, and all is fair in love and war.

After an auspicious start, which overcomes Rigby being too bland and Waldo not being a very interesting technological subject—it’s just a real-time animation thing. Like, Flash was already dying when Waldo came out. The reason there wasn’t a real Waldo Moment isn’t because the technology didn’t exist, it’s because politics was all bullshit at this point. Menzies is the soulless bullshit candidate, Pirrie is the soulful bullshit candidate, but what about Waldo….

Will billionaire Flemyng have a naughty idea? Will Rigby and Pirrie dance too close to the fire? Will there be animated bear wiener? Will any of it matter after the hard bellyflop finish?

No. It will not.

Good direction from Bryn Higgins. “Mirror” doesn’t flop because Brooker misses something with his scripts; it flops because of intentional choices. It’s obvious and craven.

Black Mirror (2011) s02e02 – White Bear

White Bear feels contractually obligated, which is strange since it’s got a script credit to series creator Charlie Brooker. Maybe it just fell apart in production, too; Bear crumbles about halfway through, and it’s a short episode already—around forty-one minutes. It begins with Lenora Crichlow waking up in an empty house, apparently having just survived a suicide attempt, pictures of her husband and daughter downstairs, but she’s got amnesia, so she can’t be sure they’re her family. Her neighbors all look at her from their windows, then run around and take pictures of her with their smartphones.

None of them know how to turn off the shutter sound.

Carl Tibbetts directs and, for much of the episode, does the best directing in a “Black Mirror” yet. Of course, it’s not a particularly high bar, but Tibbetts’s work is quite good. After chasing one of the onlookers, Crichlow finds herself on the run from a man in a mask, shooting at her with a shotgun. His mask has a symbol on it, which she (and the audience) have already seen on the TVs in her house. Nothing makes any sense!

Then Crichlow happens across Tuppence Middleton, who’s just trying to survive in this dystopia. Middleton gives Crichlow some information on the ground situation—one day, everyone got a text on their smartphones, looked at it, and all became obsessive voyeurs. Except the people who go out and kill and torture for the amusement of the obsessive voyeurs.

Presumably unintentionally, Middleton’s a lot more compelling than Crichlow. Maybe because she knows what’s going on, and Crichlow doesn’t have any character development because amnesia. And because reveal.

Before the reveal, the episode has time to introduce fellow survivor Michael Smiley, who’s playing a medley of caricatures. Even after the reveal and all the stakes have changed, Middleton’s still more compelling than Crichlow.

It’s half a good episode, but then still a bad one.

Tibbetts, though. Tibbetts does just fine.

Black Mirror (2011) s02e01 – Be Right Back

Okay, now I’m beginning to understand some of the “Black Mirror” hype. Despite its trying for too clever and not getting there title, Be Right Back is fantastic. It overcomes director Owen Harris having one shot and repeating it over and over again: lead Hayley Atwell is on one side of the frame, the other side of the frame is empty space; it’s like Harris composes for a smartphone.

Speaking of smartphones… they’re the obvious thing Back gets wrong about its future. The episode aired in 2013 when smartphones were still small and clunky, so the future phones are small and slim. There’s also some hilarious stuff with Atwell’s touchscreen laptop, which is a commercial for why the product category hasn’t taken off. But, otherwise, no real notes on Back’s future. Though, asterisk. Charlie Brooker’s script ignores a whole lot of Atwell’s story so as to not talk about the future practicalities.

Atwell’s a young widow. Actually, wait. Unclear on her and Domhnall Gleeson’s marital status. It sure seems like they’re married—they’ve been together ten years, and they’re renovating his dead mum’s house to live in, which seems like a married thing. But when he’s been gone a few months, Atwell’s sister (Claire Keelan) is thrilled to see Atwell shacking up with some new guy. I mean, grieve how you’re going to grieve, which is also the episode plot.

See, in this future, they—they being the brandless tech companies (the least believable thing about “Black Mirror”… its intentional lack of capitalist reality)—have made a large language model you can train with a dead loved one’s online presence so you can converse with them. Upgrades start basic, with you uploading private emails for better training, but it can also do fake voices (better than the fake voices in last season’s “Black Mirror” future, where they never fixed crappy robot voices). Since FaceTime wasn’t a thing yet, Back doesn’t involve any video calls.

I mean, Skype was a thing, right?

Anyway. The story’s about what happens as Atwell starts using the zombie email service to cope with her grief and new stresses. She goes from reluctant to addicted, eventually upgrading to the OT VIII level, which will change her life forever.

The story’s pretty good, but Atwell and Gleeson are spectacular. They’re great alone; they’re great together. It’s Atwell’s show—episode—but Gleeson’s essential.

So, the secret to “Black Mirror” is apparently genuinely great performances to glaze over mediocre production and cravenly plotted scripts.

To be fair to Brooker, Back is one of the few cases where something continues past its natural ending to find an even better one. Except, of course, the only reason they pull it off is Atwell and Gleeson.

They’re so good.

Black Mirror (2011) s01e03 – The Entire History of You

Not to get too Roman DeBeers, but The Entire History of You takes place in a universe where they create a cyborg technology to record your memories but never figure out how to get text-to-speech engines to sound better than they did in 1997. You provides an interesting finale for the first season of “Black Mirror” because it’s the only episode (of three, but still) not written or co-written by show creator Charlie Brooker. Also because it’s tripe.

Jesse Armstrong’s script is bad. Not just because it fails to make it through some general “hard sci-fi” gates. Not just because its philosophy seems to be, “Well, psychologists implanted all those memories, so we need video memory to prove men’s innocence.” #MenToo.

Barf. Especially since the episode’s about a physically abusive narcissist.

It’s simply bad on a structural basis. It starts with episode lead Toby Kebbell in a red herring job interview where they all throw out some talky-talk jargon for this universe. Basically, everyone’s got these “Re-Do” devices in their heads, and, in this future, everyone just watches their old memories. Presumably there’s a market for selling and sharing these memories, which doesn’t get discussed. Instead, Kebbell becomes irrationally jealous of wife Jodie Whittaker, and her jackass old friend, Tom Cullen.

As Kebbell becomes more and more convinced there’s something going on, he’s able to comb through his Re-Do archive to find clues. Though—and here’s where Armstrong’s bad writing comes in—there’s no discussion of his actual previous behaviors either. Apparently, Kebbell’s been super-jealous of Whittaker having sex before they were married before, and even though he’s a Chad, he doesn’t like his Stacy being with other Chads. At some point, it’s just clear Whittaker really likes abusive narcissists.

Even with a traditionally thin lady role—Armstrong follows that “Black Mirror” rule—Whittaker’s good. Cullen’s better than Kebbell, which isn’t saying much because Kebbell is awful. It’s not like there will be extended periods of the episode where it’s just Kebbell being terrible, is it? Not with lousy direction from Brian Welsh? Oh, wait, it’s almost half the episode. Bummer.

“Mirror” hasn’t been aging well ten-plus years on, but You is the first where it’s clear even on release the gimmick doesn’t work. Like what if you lose the remote control to your brain VCR?

Armstrong also seems to think Rod Serling will be narrating the episode all better.

With another lead and a slightly more intelligent script, You’d probably be okay. But with Kebbell and Armstrong?

Rewind and erase.

Black Mirror (2011) s01e02 – Fifteen Million Merits

I’m understanding why the first episode of “Black Mirror” did a painful Lars von Trier namedrop… because the show’s just Lars von Trier-lite. This episode eventually involves a young woman being pressured into becoming a porn performer—don’t worry it’s just a terminal subplot and her experience is entirely besides the point—and it’s like, oh, what if we objectified but completely de-centered and turned her into someone else’s property.

Fifteen Million Merits takes place in the future where the British(?) government’s boffins couldn’t figure out renewable energy when it was too late and the 99% spend their lives pedaling on stationary bicycles to make energy for the world(?). There aren’t a lot of details. There is some procreation—Jessica Brown Findlay remembers her mother, which apparently others don’t—but it’s unclear when and how it occurs. It’s also unclear if anyone has any sex ed outside the porno channel they have to pay not to watch when they’re cycling. No one in the episode exhibits actual attraction to another person besides lead Daniel Kaluuya and, presumably, Brown Findlay.

I didn’t recognize Brown Findlay from “Downton Abbey” until her flirting scene with Kaluuya, which is done exactly the same as her flirting scenes with Allan Leech on “Downton.” Not the greatest moment for the script, though the functional cravenness is pragmatic. Writers Charlie Brooker and Konnie Huq aren’t going to be doing any character development (or even properly preparing the narrative to allow for character development), so why not just have recognizable cast members on the anthology show do their bits from their well-known shows?

Anyway.

In the future, the only way for the riders to get ahead is to go on the future “American Idol” (sorry, future “Pop Idol”) and entertain their way to a better life. Is it a better life? Unclear. Merits sets up numerous potential “Twilight Zone” gotchas only to always go the path of least resistance.

Kaluuya’s the lead. He’s a rider with an incredible amount of money saved up–Merits—which you get from biking and then can spend on your Metaverse avatars. Another thing about watching “Black Mirror” with a decade-plus delay is seeing where the tech billionaires have just lifted dystopian ideas whole. But you also have to pay to eat and wash, which doesn’t make much sense. Of course, it doesn’t make much sense to have the bicycles in communal areas—everyone lives in little rooms surrounded by screens; why not just have the bike in there too?

Despite the other girl who makes eyes at Kaluuya, it isn’t until Brown Findlay shows up he gets interested in the ladies. Is there some subtext to Kaluuya and porn mogul Ashley Thomas being the only Black people in the show with lines? Maybe not. Though definitely once it turns out Thomas’s porn movies are all about Black men degrading white women. Dystopia, huh?

The acting’s decent, all things considered. Kaluuya and Brown Findlay have to play people who only exist within the context of these exact forty-five minutes, which will really hurt both their performances by the end. Though since Brown Findlay is a lady and therefore disposable to the plot, she at least gets to stop participating at some point. Kind of. It’s not better for the episode, just better for her not having to try to keep the energy going in a middling effort.

Rupert Everett guest stars as Simon Cowell, though potentially an Australian one.

Budget-wise, the episode seems fine. Euros Lyn’s direction is another middling element, particularly with the reveal shots. Jamie Pearson’s cutting is good, regardless of the content. And Stephen McKeon’s music is solid.

Is it thought-provoking? Ish? It’s affecting, to be sure, but it’s entirely manipulative.