Wow. So that happened. Up until those last few minutes, this review would have been bursting with enthusiasm and excitement – but in light of that final image of Korra’s desolate face, it no longer feels like an appropriate tone to take.
Let’s step back (way back) for a moment. I’ve noticed throughout dozens of fandoms that there always comes a point when the effusive love showered upon any given franchise gradually gives way to salivating hatred. And no, I don’t think I’m exaggerating here. It doesn’t take much to set off the fandom backlash: a change in tone, a ship getting sunk, a messy storyline, a bad casting decision. Just look at Star Wars for a quintessential example of this weird fan hatred at work.
The same thing happened to The Legend of Korra. After the abject joy over the original series, a lot of fans came to this show with their expectations sky-high, and consequently (and to be fair, justifiably) were disappointed in Book One: Air. Heck, I was among them.
Like most others, I hated the love triangle, felt that too many short-cuts were taken in the narrative, and thought that it concluded with a trail of unsatisfying deus ex machinas.
It was a wonky start to a new series, but not one that I thought was unsalvageable. And what troubles me the most when fandoms get disappointed is that from that point on they seem to want the project to fail, almost as some sort of punishment to the creators for delivering something they didn’t like. This was the reason I kept clear of the Korra fandom, as I was getting tired of the relentless negativity.
I never wanted The Legend of Korra to fail, and I’m supremely happy for the cast and crew that this season was not only the best that Korra had to offer, but was up there with the quality of Avatar: The Last Airbender.
It really does feel that Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino took on board some of the criticism of the first season and got to work at ironing it out: ditching the love triangle, focusing on the Korra/Asami friendship, paying attention to cause and effect, and here – finally – our first finale in a long time that didn’t rely on a deus ex machina; just characters using their skills and resources to achieve their goals and realistically deal with the aftermath.
Nickelodeon hasn’t exactly been helpful when it’s come to the airing of this season, but for the first time the somewhat rushed distribution has paid off. Enter the Void and The Venom of the Red Lotus work best as a two-parter, with certain plot points and character arcs given closure in the first episode, leaving the second to focus almost solely on Korra.
As I suspected, Korra decides to give herself up to Zaheer in order to spare the Air Nomads, a choice that echoes throughout the entirety of the two-parter. Of course, her friends and family aren’t prepared to let her go that easily, and a trap is planned to allow Bolin, Asami and Mako to free the air benders whilst Tonraq, Suyin, Lin and the metal benders lay in wait on Lahima’s Peak to assist Korra if need be.
But just as Korra’s allies have a backup plan, so too does the Red Lotus. The air benders have been moved to the cave network where Korra’s execution is to take place, and Zaheer succeeds in kidnapping Korra after unlocking the power of flight.
I’ve always loved the way these writers play around with the art of bending – having established the ground rules there are hundreds of ways in which it can be used creatively; in this case, it's not only Zaheer serenely flying away that made me go "ooh", but also having Ming Hwa create frozen manikins to pose as the air benders (which simply melt away once her use for them is over).
It’s a creepy moment, but after Asami/Bolin/Mako rescue Tenzin and escape the Northern Air Temple (mostly thanks to Bolin’s newfound lava-bending abilities) they meet up with Lin, Suyin and Tonraq and give us a brief reprieve from the action. After providing closure on Kai/Mako’s animosity and Suyin/Lin’s estrangement, as well as filling in the lengthy gap of what happened to Kai after he was rescued by the baby sky bison, the team head off to the caves in order to rescue Korra.
There the ultimate objective of the Red Lotus is finally revealed: in order to achieve absolute chaos and anarchy, they plan to poison Korra and so force her into the Avatar State. Using this strong slice of continuity from the original series, the Red Lotus reminds us that this is the only way to not only kill the Avatar, but to ensure that he/she is not reincarnated in another body. It will end the Avatar cycle forever.
It’s at this point that our protagonists split up in order to deal with the Red Lotus one-on-one, and it’s a credit to this season’s pacing and attention to detail that nothing here feels rushed, contrived or left hanging. Asami/Lin/Suyin rescue the hostages, and Bolin/Mako take on Ghazan/Ming Hua respectively.
With Kya/Bumi/Tenzin taken out of commission, and Jinora’s astral projection confirming that Korra can’t come to the rescue, it’s up to the air benders to formulate their own escape. And they do pretty well at first, with Jinora, Ikki, Pema and Meelo using a combination of air bending and whining to get the keys from the guard into Opal’s hands, but it’s really down to an awesome manoeuvre from Asami that frees them all.
But for a supporting character, I felt Suyin was surprisingly active in these two episodes, probably even more so than Lin and Asami. She made plans, she took a decisive leadership role, she disposed of P’Lii – heck, it’s down to her that Korra’s life was saved in her ability to metal bend the poison out of her body. On the other hand, as touching as Tonraq’s scenes with his daughter were, I never felt he was a properly-defined character, and his bond with Korra somewhat informed rather than demonstrated. (Though at least he did better than Korra’s mother, who is a complete non-entity).
As for our villains – well, I was reasonably happy with the way things turned out. The mystery of what exactly the Red Lotus wanted with Korra (which included their attempt to kidnap her as a baby) has been drawn out across this season, so I’ll admit to a little disappointment when it turned out they simply wanted to kill her. I’m not sure what exactly I was hoping for, but despite the creativity with which they planned to end the Avatar cycle, it was a fairly rote end-game.
Still, I asked for complex and morally ambiguous villains, and I got them. Despite the manner in which they go about their goals, they certainly believe that their ends justify the means, and they’re allowed to keep their humanizing qualities right to the end (namely Zaheer and P’Lii’s love for each other, as well as the group’s general camaraderie). When each side says goodbye to each other in preparation for the final battle, you can tell there’s an equal amount of love and affection on both sides.
So what actually made them villains in the end? Their actions, not their goals (“a world without kings and queens, without borders or nations, where a man’s only alliance is to himself and the ones he loves”) or their personalities (“I also lost someone I loved today”). There is no real “evil” here except the evil of extremism; believing in your own system so much that you’ll inflict it on the rest of the world, whether or not the population wants it and regardless of who has to be killed along the way.
Zaheer even had an interesting bit of eleventh hour development here, one in which he unlocks the secret of Guru Lahima’s flying ability, brought on by the death of his “worldly desires”. It was reminiscent of Aang’s soul searching when he learns he can only unlock the Avatar State if he relinquishes his connection to Katara, and elegantly foreshadowed, what with his connection to P’Lii juxtaposed with his constant allusions to Lahima, resulting in what felt like a deserved moment of revelation. Admit it, you gasped when you saw him floating there in the clouds.
But ultimately I feel that Zaheer and the rest of the Red Lotus were successful villains simply because they were so detached from Korra on a personal level. Amon targeted her reputation as an Avatar, Unalaq was her trusted uncle that manipulated her, and Vaatu was an intrinsic part of who she was.
(By the way, I loved their little cameos whilst Korra was hallucinating, all of which served to link the themes of the past three seasons: the demand for change, the fluctuating role of the Avatar, and in the appearance of Vaatu – a reminder of the power inherent within her).
But Zaheer was disturbing because he was so impersonal. There was no personal vendetta, no needless cruelty. To him, killing Korra was simply the means to an end.
And yet, the toll his actions have taken are deeply personal, as was the way in which he went about his attempted execution of Korra. Much like the Hannibal Lector straightjacket earlier in the season, the sight of Korra hanging spread-eagled in a cave by platinum chains was a harrowing image. These two episodes in particular have showcased Korra’s physicality and strength (a striking contrast to Aang who was much more spiritual and elusive), and it can be no accident that her final battle was fought with her hair loose, her feet bare, and her sleeves and trousers rolled up to display as much of her body as possible.
It’s never a good idea when a villain seeks to activate the Avatar State, as so far all of them have underestimated the raw power of any given incarnation. But once Korra moves into this heightened state, it’s clear that she’s filled with a primal rage that’s not just about self-preservation, but vengeance for the violation of her body. I’m pretty sure Aang was never this scary when his eyes started glowing, and Korra is a force of nature until that self-same poison starts to take an effect on her body.
It is a satisfying moment of full circle when Korra is saved by the very air nomads that she sacrificed herself for, and that Zaheer is brought to heel by the chain that was used to bind Korra in the cave, but we’re left with a devastating contrast between this all-powerful young woman and the broken figure in the wheelchair.
It’s clear that Korra is suffering from either PTSD or the after-effects of the poison in her system (perhaps both), but it’s a sobering image that haunts what would otherwise be a resounding victory: Zaheer in prison, the Red Lotus scattered, the initiation of Jinora as an air bending master. Korra is witness to a moment of great joy, but despite Tenzin’s congratulatory words, despite Asami’s gentleness, despite the rebirth of the Air Nomads – she’s not a part of it.
Right from the start, her motive was to save the air benders, and that she did – but rather like Frodo being unable to enjoy the peace of the Shire, Korra is separated from the celebrations. Damn, that look on her face is going to haunt me for a long time.
I also think it’s a clear indication of how far both Korra and the show has grown – perhaps the major complaint at the end of Book 1 was that Korra’s loss of bending and her implied depression/suicide attempt was cleared up so quickly and unsatisfyingly. Not so here. The show doesn’t shy away from the personal toll this had, and Korra’s current state of mind is clearly going to be a big part of the fourth (and final?) season, along with the question that all three seasons have so far postulated: does the world need an Avatar anymore?
Miscellaneous Observations:
The deaths of Ghazan and Ming Hua were nicely done, both in themselves and in giving Mako/Bolin appropriate antagonists to go up against. I liked that Bolin didn’t technically best Ghazan – despite his new ability to lava-bend, it’s obviously not going to be much good against someone that’s been doing it for years, and ultimately Ghazan decides to bring down the caves rather than go back to prison (with a side order of Taking You With Me).
And can we collectively stop hating Mako now? I mean, I don’t love the guy, but I don’t think there’s anything to hate anymore. The love triangle shenanigans are over, he’s been fairly low-key this season, and he got a clever resolution to his fight sequence in using electricity to kill (yes, I’m pretty sure it was kill) Ming Hwa. That was a great reversal of the Katara/Azula fight back in Book 3: Fire.
As well plotted as these two episodes were, there was a bit of wriggle room here and there. Asami’s hair clip is up there with duct tape as an all-purpose plot device, Bolin finds a way of becoming a lava-bender in a way that’s uncomfortably reminiscent of Korra unlocking her air bending abilities without any training whatsoever, and amidst all the relationship closure (the Kai/Mako and Suyin/Lin moments), there is one glaring loose end: whatever happened to Varrick? I was sure he’d come back into play at some point along with that metallic armour of his.
It’s not that big a deal that he was absent, but I’m not quite sure what the point of him was. Let's hope we see him again next season. I can't help but love the the cheerful, self-serving cad.
If the poison put into Korra’s system was metallic, then it’s probably meant to be an allusion to mercury/quicksilver, which can cause hallucinations, muscle atrophy, tremors, insomnia and personality shifts. Yup, that pretty much sums up what she looked like she was going through in that final sequence.
That was a cute Pabu/Naga cameo (along with Grandma Yin) though they really are the most underutilized characters in this entire show. The two of them together still don’t have half the personality that Appa did, which is a damn shame because I love their designs.
What are we meant to make of Kuvira, the metal clan member with the mole on her cheek? I actually remember her from earlier in the season, but this felt like an oddly significant Last Episode New Character introduction. What was up with that slightly ominous musical cue? Methinks she’ll be back in Book Four, perhaps as a rouge member of the Red Lotus (who got a pointed mention at the end of the episode, what with President Raiko, Zuko and Tenzin discussing how some members are still out there).
I’ll always love the height difference between Zaheer and P’Lii and how neither one is embarrassed about it – or even comments on it. And kudos for that little glimpse of P’Lii’s backstory in which she thanks Zaheer from rescuing her from a warlord’s prison. We’ll never know the full details, but sometimes a Cryptic Background Reference is all you need to properly flesh out a character.
The high point of this season has been the focus on Korra/Asami, and though the narrative (as usual) struggles at giving a non-bender something to do in the finale, she was at least allowed to take out that Red Lotus guard with her electro-glove and be there in a supportive capacity for Korra at the end. Hey, it’s better than last season when they simply had her fly the plane, and I hope this dynamic between the two girls continues into the next season.
One lovely moment: that the only signs of brief happiness with Korra at the end were in her interactions with the kids.
Finally, it’s difficult to imagine given the usual quality, but the animators really upped their game for this finale. I’m going to say it: these episodes encompassed the most beautiful fight scenes ever visualized on the show. And honestly, I’m not one to pay close attention to action sequence in whatever capacity they’re in, but I was riveted by what was displayed here.
On my little corner of the internet, interest in The Fall peaked after news that Colin Morgan would be appearing in the second season. And yes, I'll admit, this news took the show from somewhere near the bottom of my To Be Watched pile to an all-night binge watch (approximately ten at night till three in the morning). But because nobody likes to admit being the person who watches a show just because a particular actor is in it (or in this case, going to be in it) I've concocted a list of reasons as to why The Fall is compulsive viewing without mentioning that guy who played Merlin.
1. The twist untwist. Sorry, I don’t know what else to call it, but what sets The Fall apart from other crime dramas is that there is no “whodunit” aspect to the storyline. Though the police are currently searching for the killer of successful architect Alice Monroe, the audience knows right from the get-go that it’s Paul Spector, a nice looking man who is introduced breaking into another young woman’s house in order to rifle through her underwear and arrange it on her bed. Over the course of the first episode we see him stalk Sarah Kay, his next would-be victim, well before the investigative team are aware that a serial killer is on the loose.
What does this mean for the story? You might think that revealing the identity of the killer would only rob the show of any and all suspense – but in exposing Paul’s activities to the audience, the storyline takes on a unique perspective. All the usual tropes of crime dramas are absent: there is no range of suspects that the viewer has to sift through in search of the killer, no assortment of clues and red herrings to pick apart. Instead everything is laid bare right from the beginning.
What this provides is insight into the life of a serial killer that not only runs parallel with the police investigation, but the other lives that Paul touches.
As it transpires, the most interesting thing about Paul Spector’s life is that it’s entirely uninteresting. The only reason we are captivated by his scenes is because we know what those around him do not: that by night he’s out stalking innocent women. Without this awareness, his story would be an utterly ho-hum drama about a rather dull man – but I’ll have more on this in a bit.
2. Gillian Anderson as Stella Gibson. Yeah, you already know coming into this that Gillian is going to be awesome. But she brings a rather extraordinary demeanour to Stella that’s fascinating to behold. To start with I was quite surprised by just how cold Stella was, almost to the point of finding her difficult to empathise with. This level of detached calm on a male character would either be considered normal or demonstrative of his commitment to the job, but on a female character it’s rather unnerving.
What becomes clear over the course of the episodes is that Stella is totally, utterly, indescribably unapologetic about who she is and what she wants. Whether it’s in her professional or private life, chasing leads or propositioning a co-worker for a one-night-stand, she’s completely self-possessed.
The writing doesn’t seem particularly interested in giving her any clichéd “flaws” just to give her obstacles to surmount (let’s be honest here, on most other shows the temptation to make their female lead an ex-drug addict or socially inept or the recovering victim of domestic abuse or hobbled by rampant misogyny in the work-place is usually too great to ignore); instead Stella is allowed to handle the case and her sex life with complete autonomy. No slip-ups. No attempt to “take her down a peg.” No personal demons that threaten to overwhelm her.
She’s in charge and she’s practically infallible. And why shouldn’t she be? It’s awesome.
In the words of writer Allan Cubitt: TV detectives are sometimes more a collection of tics or character traits than living, breathing individuals – mavericks who break the rules (thereby destroying, in reality, any possibility of getting a conviction), drunks trapped in a bad marriage with a troubled teen child, and so on. I believe character is revealed through action. For Gibson, I decided I would tell the audience next to nothing about her private life, but let them learn about her little by little via the choices she makes. The actor who plays her, Gillian Anderson, was fully behind that as an idea. She wanted to keep Gibson as enigmatic as possible. That only works if you have an utterly compelling performer, and Gillian is remarkable at conveying depth of thought in any situation.
3. Everyone else. Though we have our hero and her adversary in Stella and Spector, the truth is there’s no central protagonist to The Fall. This is very much an ensemble piece in which even the minor characters pack quite a punch. The victims, the victim’s families, the police officers, the reporters, the other suspects – they’re all fleshed out to a surprising extent in a very brief period of time.
Paul’s family for example, whose interactions with him would feel like typical domestic fluff were it not for the fact that we know that they don’t know that he’s a serial killer. His wife Sally is a neonatal nurse whose interactions with a teenage girl and her dying infant daughter seems utterly incidental to the plot involving her husband’s activities – at least until the chilling moment in which she suggests that they wash, dress and take photographs of the baby. It provides an unmistakable (though totally ignorant on her behalf) reflection of Paul’s similar undertakings with his murder victims.
Then there’s Paul and Sally’s daughter Olivia. She suffers from night-terrors and draws pictures of princesses stabbing themselves – so what’s really going on in her head? Has she seen her father do something suspicious? Is she just intuiting his evil intentions (especially since he stashes his equipment in the ceiling of her room)? Or is she another sociopath-in-the-making? The show leaves it ambiguous...for now at least.
But my favourite sequence would have to be an emergency services call that’s shot entirely from the operator’s point of view. She talks to the devastated caller over the course of a few minutes, remaining calm and empathetic, then on hearing that the police have arrived at the house, ends the call and immediately moves onto the next one. That’s the first and last we see of her, but it paints an exceptional picture of her life and the work that she does.
There are dozens of these vignettes over the course of the five episodes, and though some are bound to interest you more than others (personally I wasn’t all that involved in the storyline concerning police corruption), they’re all interconnected, and all paint a vivid picture of the show’s setting. Which brings us to...
4. Belfast. The setting makes for some rich interplay between characters and environment. As is pointed out to Stella early on, policing in this city is both political and religious. The PSNI (Police Service of Northern Ireland) is portrayed as passionately devout yet often corrupt, involved in anything from extra-marital affairs to prostitution rings and drug-dealing. Emotions run high in the police headquarters, not helped by a memorial plaque on the wall dedicated to those murdered in the line of duty. Not killed, but murdered.
This attitude spills out into the streets, where not even a simple arrest can be made or a murder scene investigated without an angry mob showing up to hurl things at the police. This is a tense environment on many levels, and that soaks into the entire atmosphere of the story.
5. The female characters. They’re fantastic – separately or together. There’s Stella of course, a woman who is so comfortable in both her abilities and her own skin that it makes some of her male co-workers visibly uncomfortable. She reminds me a bit of Elise Wasserman in The Tunnel, who also solicits “no strings attached” sex from an attractive male, only to find that he had different ideas about what their relationship encompassed – the key difference being that Elise’s forwardness in sexual matters is implied to be a result of her unspecified Asperger’s Syndrome, whereas Stella knows exactly what she’s doing and remains unapologetic about it.
A quintessential scene is when she picks up a judgmental vibe from one of her colleagues on learning she had a one-night-stand, and delivers this little gem:
Man fucks woman. Subject “man”; verb “fucks”; object “woman”. That’s okay. Woman fucks man. “Woman” subject; “man”, object. That’s not so comfortable for you, is it?
Just to top it off, the man she’s saying this to soon finds himself in a traumatic situation that Stella calmly deals with – which he later thanks her for.
But Stella’s most important relationships are with two other principal female characters – Danielle Ferrington, a young police constable (and lesbian) that she takes under wing after being impressed by her integrity, and Reed Smith, the pathological who she relates to on a professional level. Needless to say, the show passes the Bechdel Test in all directions, allowing the women to talk to each other about personal and professional issues.
Even the female murder victims, that quintessential component of any crime drama, are fleshed out so that their deaths don’t feel perfunctory, but genuinely tragic. This is particularly true of Sarah Kay, the young solicitor that Paul stalks for several days before killing her, and whose life, passions, relationships and dreams are explored before the murder occurs.
There are so many great scenes involving the ladies, especially those that underline a real sense of female solidarity at work: Reed gently telling Stella that her pushy demeanour at the hospital will not get them what they want, Danielle feeling overwhelming guilt and remorse over not taking Sarah’s initial call for help seriously, the media liaison who pats Stella on the back for a job well-done and is visibly worried about her temporary wardrobe malfunction, Sally staying by the side of the young teen mum as her infant daughter slowly dies, and Stella listing the names of Spector’s murder victims to him over the phone, informing him that it’s because of them that she’ll never stop hunting him.
Everywhere I look I seem to see demands for female-led dramas with a female supporting cast. Well, here it is.
6. My favourite game, spot the famous British thespian! There's Gillian Anderson of course, but also Jamie Dornan who is probably best known as playing Sheriff Graham on Once Upon a Time, the polar opposite of Paul Spector (and star of Fifty Shades of Grey, so enjoy his acting career while you still can). Archie Panjabi from The Good Wife plays Reed, and Game of Thrones fans will recognise Ian McElhinney and Michael McElhatton (who play Barristan Selmy and Roose Bolton respectively).
And the most amusing thing about Colin Morgan joining the cast is that his girlfriend and father from Merlin have already featured on the show (Laura Donnelly who played Freya and John Lynch who played Balinor). There's also Aisling Franciosi who played opposite him in Quirke, and whose character somehow manages to be even more homicidally stupid here than she was there.
7. The Not So Different trope. Yeah, you’ve heard this one before. In an attempt to unsettle our hero, the villain gives a dastardly speech that ends with a declaration that the two of them “aren’t so different.” It’s meant to spook the good guys, but quite often provides an illuminating look at both of them, contrasting and comparing their methods and motivations (consider Harry Potter and Voldemort or Merlin and Morgana, for example – they were on different sides, but their background and tactics were strikingly similar).
Here Stella is the detective and Spector is the killer, but both engage in what Stella calls “doubling” – that is, having a secret life hidden by a persona that's used to interact with other people. But whereas Stella’s veneer is cold and intimidating, Spector’s is warm and inviting. At face value, he’s the more appealing figure.
There are other similarities between them: both care very little for the opinions and feelings of others (Stella is very blunt with her co-workers and is perfunctory when it comes to comforting the bereaved; Spector may be affectionate towards his family, but is certainly not above manipulating them for his own ends), both are frequently shown exercising (Stella swims, Spector does chin-ups), and both have a certain lack of emotion when it comes to trauma (Spector’s failings in this area are obvious, but Stella is surprisingly collected when she hears that her one-night-stand has been shot).
But of course, in the immortal words of Dumbledore, it is our choices that demonstrate who we truly are. For all her detachment, Stella is on the side of the angels, and in their phone-call confrontation, she takes Spector’s “not so different” spiel and slaps it back in his face.
8. Food for thought. Obviously you’re not going to sit down and watch a crime drama for the fun of it, but there is also a HUGE margin between a cosy Miss Marple murder and a Jack the Ripper special. The Fall veers more towards the latter, and is made even more unsettling by the intimate glimpse we get into the killer’s life. We don’t like to think that normal people can do horrific things – we think it’s the work of evil loners that lurk in the shadows.
And yet one of the most important things about the portrayal of Paul Spector (as I mentioned earlier) is that he’s boring. Were it not for the fact that we know he’s a serial killer, we’d have no interest in him whatsoever – and most of the “concern” we have is for his family. At times he seems to show depth of character: he offers comfort to a grieving mother and is horrified when he learns one of his victims was pregnant, but these moments of compassion – however contrived – only serve to heighten the sordidness of his crimes.
Sometimes a criminal can be portrayed as so clever, so charismatic, that a small part of us is secretly rooting for their success. Not here. Any dread we feel for his impending arrest is reserved solely for his family. And knowing who the killer is right from the start of the drama also helps keep Spector in that “boring bubble”. By knowing exactly who he, the mystique and glamour surrounding him is stripped away.
(Or to put it another way, I've found no trace of the Draco in Leather Pants phenomenon at work. Apparently a lot of people who would otherwise be lining up to redeem this poor misunderstood woobie in their fan-fiction have found there's nothing to work with here. Paul Spector may be handsome, but there's nothing even remotely interesting or appealing about him - and contextually, that's what makes this show so riveting).
I took a trip to the Botanic Gardens yesterday with my camera for a wander around. There are so many great sculptures there that I made a little mini-set of some of the stonework you can find there.
I feel that posting this deserves some sort of celebration; not just for the show but for me. I’ve watched and reviewed all twenty-three episodes of Arrow over the past three months, and now I’ve come to its first season finale. I’m definitely going to take a break before tackling the second season, not to mention the upcoming third and the spin-off coming up in October!
There are thousands if not millions of people out there writing blogs about films and television shows, and the difference between them lies in the angle they take in exploring the material. For me, I’ve always been most interested in the choices authors make in order to shape a particular story; in that odd relationship between the text and context of any given narrative, in why certain things happen a certain way.
You’ve probably noticed my frequent use of the terms Doylist and Watsonian, which describe the two ways in which a person can engage with a text: from the point-of-view of a writer (Doylist) or from within the story itself (Watsonian), and I often find myself preferring to use the former technique. I’m less interested in why a character behaves in a certain way as exploring why a writer choses them to act in that way.
And the less you can see the writers’ “fingerprints” in the story, the better its characters will be. I actually think this is illustrated most clearly in the show’s depiction of Laurel and Felicity. It’s pretty clear at this stage that Felicity is a Breakout Character whilst Laurel is The Scrappy. Fandom loves the former and barely tolerates the latter. Why is that?
I’m going to speculate that it’s because Laurel was designed to fulfil a particular narrative purpose, whilst Felicity was an accidental, and therefore totally organic, addition to the show. Felicity is allowed to exist on her own terms, whilst Laurel is continually defined by her role as love interest and distressed damsel.
Granted, this is a bit of a generalization. I neither hate Laurel nor adore Felicity as much as the rest of fandom, and in many ways it’s Laurel who is the more defined character: as a result of being a planned character she has a background and a family, and she’s accorded several subplots (most obviously with her parents and missing sister) that are completely removed from Oliver’s orbit. As of yet, Felicity has not been afforded anything like this. Her impromptu addition to Team Arrow means that she has no pre-established backstory.
But for the same reasons, Felicity has a certain amount of freedom while Laurel is more constrained by plot requirements. In this episode she really only exists as an extension of the male characters. She’s there as a symbol of Oliver’s impending freedom from his responsibilities, as a distressed damsel that Tommy saves in order to prove himself, and as the recipient of a tearful phone-call from her father (the only natural and deserved scene of the three).
And whereas Felicity’s talents as a hacker make her useful to the story on both a Doylist/Watsonian level, the writers have struggled a bit with Laurel’s job as an attorney. Sure it’s introduced a few plot-relevant characters, but for the most part it feels like a short-cut to characterization, a way of telling us she has a social conscience without really showing us. Not helping is the fact that the show is constantly undermining her anyway. Having finished this episode I was frustrated that Laurel was so stupid as to go into the Glades after Oliver tells her not to and to stay there for no discernible reason.
Then I found out that a deleted scene depicted her trying to gather important files together for her clients. It gives her legitimate motivation (though how long does it take to grab a few files and run out again?) that was obliterated in the final cut. Instead she exists in a contrived situation that has her pinned under rubble so that Tommy can first rescue and then die for her.
As it happens, Felicity also does something very stupid in this episode – sitting and crying in the basement when she should have been taking cover – but the strength of her role and her importance in getting the first earthquake device shut down means her character gets a pass.
In short, the writers aren’t overthinking Felicity. There is no predetermined plan. She can evolve naturally and exist on her own terms. Laurel, on the other hand, has to do what the plot requires of her, has to follow the necessities of the relationships she’s been designed for.
Of course, I don’t think this is the only reason why Felicity is so popular. The fact that she’s an attractive-but-not-glamorous twenty-something with an interest in computers and a propensity for Freudian slips means that she’s a perfect model for female viewers to relate to (and no doubt why Oliver/Felicity is such a popular pairing), but I do think all this accounts for the different quality in writing when it comes to the two women.
***
Yikes, I’m probably supposed talk about the episode itself at some point, right? The show nicely covers for the two eventualities that have been building for the last twenty-two episodes. They can either have Oliver stop the Undertaking and have a somewhat anti-climactic resolution (there’s nothing hugely exciting about pushing a button on a doomsday device), or they can have him fail to stop it and so deal with the fact that our heroic protagonist couldn't achieve his ultimate goal of protecting Starling City.
Naturally, they come up with a third option. In a twist that would make Ozymandias proud, Merlyn has a second device primed and ready to go. The earthquake still happens; it’s just not as devastating as potentially could have been, though it still comes at a high personal cost.
Yes, Tommy Merlyn falls victim to the best friend cliché – and that’s after avoiding the expected reaction to discovering Oliver was a vigilante (acting angry and confused instead of excited and happy). In retrospect Tommy’s story has been low-key but interesting, filled with irony when you take into account all the secret identities of those surrounding him. Even as Oliver and Laurel were urging Tommy to reconcile with his father, Tommy himself instinctively knew that Malcolm was up to no good, and it was a fantastic use of consistency when Tommy reacts to Malcolm’s unmasking in the exact same way he did to Oliver’s – by pointing a gun at him.
The poor guy’s life has been riddled with betrayal and secrets, but there’s a tragic sense of fulfilment when he saves Laurel from the chaos that his father has created. There was really no escape for him.
Speaking of Merlyn Senior, I can’t say I’ve ever been too compelled by the character or his evil designs on the Glades (basically an amalgamation of Fridged Wife motivation and an evil conspiracy straight out of Batman Begins). Perhaps I’ve just been spoiled by watching the most recent season of The Legend of Korra, but I was hoping for a little bit more depth, or at least mystery, in the season’s Big Bad. Still, John Barrowman’s acting finally impressed me, what with his furious: “they deserve to die!” when Tommy questions him.
Meanwhile, Moira finally comes to the conclusion that people don’t deserve to die just because Malcolm wants them to, and that her own children aren’t particularly impressed with her decision to protect them at the cost of so many others. I’m still a little iffy on how exactly she got roped into this whole debacle, or why she didn’t simply just tip off the police anonymously, but at least she’s finally taking responsibility for her complicity. And nice that she started off her press report with the words: “I have failed this city.”
Finally, Roy and Thea get her own minor subplot, though it’s rather stop-start in regards to Thea racing to Roy’s rescue, only for him to insist that she leave him behind. Despite knocking out a thug with a bottle, she’s undermined just as thoroughly as Laurel is, with Roy ordering her to safety while he goes to help others. I guess we should give him credit for helping people of his own volition (instead of simply doing it to get closer to the vigilante) but it’s a shame Thea couldn’t have been part of it.
And over in the island flashbacks (which never feel particularly important, no matter how hard they try) Oliver, Slade and Shado manage to redirect the missile from a comically close range. Later Oliver comes face to face with Fyres holding Shado hostage (*heavy sigh*) and rejects the possibility of passage off the island in favour of shooting him dead. It’s not a particularly potent moment since Fyres’ offer falls completely flat. We know he can’t be trusted, and we know he’s got no reason to help Oliver.
Still, it was a significant moment in regards to Oliver’s development (his first kill) and I quite enjoy the dynamic between Shado, Slade and Oliver – almost like a precursory version of Oliver, Diggle and Felicity.
Miscellaneous Observations:
Why didn’t Robert tell Oliver about Malcolm and the Undertaking before shooting himself? Come to think of it, shouldn't Malcolm be in Robert’s book? I’m afraid I’ve lost track of what exactly this notebooks was for – it lists corrupts businessmen and the like, and yet Malcolm doesn’t seem to be in it. Was it simply a book of contacts? What exactly was its original purpose? I get the feeling this has been explained, but I've just forgotten how it fits in.
Wow, Slade and Shado sure bounced back quickly from those bullet wounds.
Fyers is dead, which means I don’t have to struggle over the spelling of his name anymore.
Why on earth did Malcolm call Moira to tell her he was accelerating his plans? Even assuming that she was ignorant about his vigilante activities, chances were she’d tell Oliver in order to warn him off. And even if she didn’t, why did she need to know about it anyway?
Nice of the muggers of Rebecca to leave her phone so she could make a final call to her husband. Is there a reason she didn’t call the police instead? Still, I appreciated that they included a call-back to Malcolm closing her clinic and the reasons why.
So glad the Glades had time to make doomsday signs before taking to the streets in a panic. I saw more than one “judgment day” sign being carried around.
Ah, so Oliver’s replacement bow used to belong to Yao Fei. Nice bit of continuity there.
As far as season finales go, Sacrifice was good but not great. It had all the prerequisites of a finale: a mano-a-mano fight between the hero and the antagonist, plenty of emotional beats, enough room for all the main characters to do something significant, a few rousing speeches, a permanent character death, and a shirtless scene. Not quite a cliff-hanger, yet not at all a closed ending, this conclusion bodes well for the next season – which I will get to after a sensible amount of time has passed.
I felt this was definitely an improvement on the first episode, which was achingly slow and filled with too many meaningless voiceovers. But this managed to create suspense out of its unhurried pacing. On arriving at Castle Leoch with Jamie and the other Scots, Claire attempts to get her bearings, blend in as much as possible, and find transport back to the standing stones (her only chance of returning to the 20th century).
I’m only an amateur historian, but I’d like to think that the minds behind Outlander made a supreme effort to keep everything on-screen as accurate as possible, whilst not sacrificing the natural beauty of the world around them. Too many historical films/shows skew too heavily in one direction or the other: everything is either dirty and miserable looking, or too pristine and pretty.
But Outlander hits that perfect note of realism and splendour that lets you enjoy the scenery without getting pulled out of the time period. More than that, the director actually brings the audience up close and personal with some of the details: the books, the food, the carvings, and the clothing. A “getting dressed up in contemporary garb” montage was always going to be inevitable, but I like that the show takes its time with these sorts of things. If you’re watching a time-travelling adventure, then it should be a given that exploring the past is where a viewer’s interest lies.
And maybe it was just my imagination, but I liked that Claire’s entire posture and appearance changes once she’s in period clothing. It indicates that she not only suits these clothes, but the lifestyle as well (or so I’m assuming – this is all going to end with her staying in Scotland, right?)
Caitriona Balfe as Claire is still the bedrock of the show, depicting Claire as a sensible woman in an out-of-control situation. As it happens, I’m also watching Orange is the New Black, and I can’t help but compare Piper’s gobsmacked terror at being in prison to Claire’s forcible attempts at composure and refusal to be cowed as she flounders to acclimatize. (Not that Piper’s behaviour is any less valid).
Claire is a woman in over her head, but one that rises to the occasion. Sometimes we need women who respond exactly as we would in any given situation; sometimes we need women like Claire who can cope better than we could ever dream. I love how she clings to her medical training to ground herself (though this works a little too well considering Colum opts to keep her on at the castle as its healer) and that you never lose the sense that this is a legitimate fight for her survival in a potentially hostile environment.
With that said, I felt that her anger at being followed and watched by Colum’s spies was a little over-the-top. Surely she’s intelligent enough to realize that her best option was to simply go with it and provide them with nothing to report back rather than getting stroppy and opening up questions as to why she doesn’t want to be followed. I suppose she looks more “spirited” this way, though up until this point she appeared much too smart to get aggravated over this.
Like I said earlier, I’m glad there were fewer voiceovers, for the show managed to convey an important fact perfectly well without one: at the dinner table with Colum where Claire is concocting her backstory, we briefly segue into a scene with Frank discussing the best way to design a cover story, and then back to Claire doing precisely that. This is how information should be conveyed – we know what she’s doing and why, and we didn’t need her to explain it to us.
(Yet having pulled this off smoothly, the script falls straight back into the same technique when Claire leaves the room and informs us that the Scots were deliberately plying her with food and drink to bring down her guard. Yes Claire, we had that figured out for ourselves based on the glances Colum and Dougal were casting each other right over your head).
Which brings me to the other thing I appreciate about the show: those living in the past aren’t idiots. It’s always too easy for time-travellers to end up in the past and find themselves surrounded by uncouth morons who are easily dazzled by future ingenuity, but here it’s obvious that the Scots are intelligent enough to realize something’s up with Claire, to poke holes in her story, to provide a watch over her, to act with common sense on their own turf – all of which leads to Claire being forced to remain among them.
But on that note, Randall does not make for a particularly interesting villain – not yet anyway. I’m afraid I can’t quite grasp the meaning behind having the same actor play both Randall and Frank. Is it like how Captain Hook and Mr Darling are usually played by the same person? Is it to subconsciously tell Claire that she shouldn’t return to her own time? Haven’t quite figured that one out.
We do however, get ourselves the beginnings of a female friendship! Geillis Duncan introduces herself to Claire, providing wisdom on herb-craft and quiet translation in the meeting hall. Herself an enigmatic presence who provides healing (or at least abortions) to the girls in the village, you get the sense that it’s not just her abilities but her attitude that has rumours of “witch” going around.
And I can’t believe I’ve gotten to the end of this review without mentioning Jamie. This is decidedly odd considering he’s no doubt the draw-card for a lot of female viewers. I like him well enough, but he seems just as out of step in this time period as Claire does, coming across as more of a romantic ideal than an actual person. Hopefully the show will let him have a bit of character that goes beyond “dangerous but chivalrous outlaw”.
Miscellaneous Observations:
Bear McCreary is a gift. Can he score every TV show ever? The song for the opening credits in particular is beautifully done, with images from the 18th and 20th century interspersed.
There were a couple of familiar faces here, namely Gary Lewis as Colum MacKenzie and Laura Donnelly as Jenny Fraser. The former was solid as usual, (would it have even been possible to make a show set in 18th century Scotland without him?) but this is the third time I’ve seen the latter playing a character who seemingly only exists to be brutalized and/or killed. And on a show that otherwise caters to the female gaze, the ripping of her clothing felt utterly gratuitous.
Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I was sure at times there were trickles of modern (relatively speaking) music in the score, quietly invading the Scottish setting. If so, it’s a subtle way to remind the audience of Claire’s displacement.
The great hall has got to be the best set in the show, giving ample opportunity to explore the quiet politics of the court: all those glances and words between brothers, servants, spouses and strangers. What is it about court intrigues that are always so fascinating? Maybe it’s because our predilection for gossip is put into a setting where it doesn’t have to feel like a guilty pleasure.
Penultimate episode! And you know what that means; a gradual drawing together of all the season’s plot-threads, setting up characters for the season finale, and a cliff-hanging finish. Check, check and check.
The episode opens with a massacre at Unidac Industries, where a valiant attempt is made to humanize the scientists killed at the Black Archer’s hands before we head into the real meat of the story. (It didn’t work, by the way – the geeky male scientist may have finally summoned up the courage to ask out his co-worker, but that still doesn’t make me particularly devastated by their deaths. Nice try though).
In the wake of this crime Oliver decides to go pushing for answers from Moira, and in a twist I didn’t see coming (hangs head in shame) organizes their kidnapping at “the vigilante’s” hands in order to extort information out of her. Just as I was about to roll my eyes at the ease with which kidnappers can break into the Queen mansion and make off with its inhabitants, I realized that it was all a setup.
With Diggle posing The Hood, Oliver is punched in front of Moira until she spills the beans on Malcolm’s Undertaking and what it means for the Glades. Since the very start of this show Moira has been characterized by her overwhelming (even misguided) need to protect her children – so it made perfect sense for Oliver to play on this Achilles’ Heel and endanger himself in order to get her to talk.
So I was fooled by this bluff – maybe because Oliver doesn’t even give her the slightest amount of time to respond to his confrontation at the house – but the fallout is going to be spectacular. Knowing that Malcolm Merlyn is behind everything gives Team Arrow the opportunity to plan ahead, but Oliver’s tactics are also a chilling reminder that mother and son aren’t all that different. This is the same woman that’s organised the kidnapping of her husband and the assassination of a business partner.
Meanwhile Roy and Thea are still on the trail of the vigilante, though Thea calls it quits pretty damn fast once Oliver gives them a warning (I don’t necessarily blame her, but still – after recognising that it “means the world” to Roy last week, this comes as a pretty abrupt choice). Still, I’m digging this subplot and I don’t even know why.
Perhaps it’s because this completely unrelated hunt actually makes the show feel richer and fuller, depicting as it does the effective Oliver’s activities are having on individuals on the wider community. I really feel for Roy’s need to find The Hood and learn from him (it’s exactly the type of corner-cutting behaviour you’d expect from a teen who doesn’t just want to get a job), and the added irony of him meeting his shadowy hero without even realizing it. Also amusing is that Oliver has no idea of how much of an impact he's made on him.
It’s always a fun moment when plotlines converge in any given show, and Roy/Thea coming face-to-face with Oliver in the foyer of Malcolm’s office building was a great sequence. You know what else is fun? Infiltration, and Team’s Arrow’s effectiveness in getting Felicity to the computer hub and out again was the highlight of the episode. Specifically the moment when Diggle tries to pass her off as Tommy’s clingy ex-girlfriend and she obligingly plays along: “But I love him! He’s my man!”
Elsewhere, Detective Lance is investigating the tragedy (that there is absolutely NO record of what the scientists were working on is a bit eye-roll-worthy, but we’ll let it pass) and bringing in Tommy for questioning (I kinda dug that camera spinning reveal). And it’s official – nobody knowing who Felicity Smoak is has become a running gag. It was all in Paul Blackthorne’s delivery: “who the heck is Felicity Smoak?” I guess this means she’ll be dragged in for questioning soon...
And for only the second time ever the flashbacks to the island are just as interesting as the contemporary storyline. After Yao Fei is coerced into giving away the position of Oliver, Slade and Shado (which is really their own fault considering they stayed in the remains of the plane), the four of them are taken to Fyres’ base (one day I will learn how to correctly spell his name) and helpfully told of his plans for the missile launcher.
In a development that is eerily – and quite disturbingly – reminiscent of the recent Malaysian Airlines tragedy, Fyres reveals that he’s going to shoot a commercial plane out of the sky in order to upset the Chinese economy, with Yao Fei on hand as a convenient scapegoat. And you can tell it’s season finale time as no one is messing around anymore: once Yao Fei gives Fyres what he wants he’s shot in the head.
Of course, both Slade and Shado have also been shot – though they don’t seem to be in much pain, and naturally Oliver is spared nothing but a slap around the face. I’m sure that definitely won’t have any bearing on how this situation gets resolved in the next episode.
But I was impressed that there was even some resolution for that random guy who turned up bleeding and sobbing at Oliver’s cave, crying for help. At the time Ollie decided it was too much of a risk to assist him, and in a surprising turn of events, it turns out he was right in his judgment. The guy was working for Fyres all along.
Being a Lost viewer, I was prepared for this to never be brought up again, and though I still think the whole subplot was a little superfluous, I give them a hefty dose of credit for wrapping it up.
And to flit back to Starling City, the final fight between Oliver/Malcolm was nicely done – just not quite as visceral as Oliver/Mr Blank. Though Malcolm’s words on unhooding the vigilante piqued my interest, as he says: “oh no.” Hmm. Why “oh no”? Is he thinking of Tommy? Moira? Robert?
Miscellaneous Observations:
It felt like there was a greater-than-usual effort to plug up potential plot-holes and loose threads in this episode, what with explaining how the vigilante got past Queen security so easily (obviously because it was an inside job), why the Black Archer killed the scientists so gruesomely (to divert police attention) and justifying Walter’s safety (Malcolm must have had him questioned and been confident that he didn’t know anything).
For the first time we get a glimpse of Fyre’s shadowy employer – and she’s in high heels. the plot thickens.
Nice touch: seeing Oliver give Diggle a tiny nod of acquiescence before he started throwing
punches.
The infiltration sequence was fun, but how did Diggle get a job as a security guard on such short notice?
Oh, and there’s a bunch of love triangle stuff. Oliver and Laurel sleep together and unfortunately do so in front of an open window so that Tommy can walk by and see them at it. Urgh. For female characters everywhere, I look forward to the day that writers finally learn that no one cares about damn love triangles. This one in particular feels horribly superfluous and shallow, not helped by the fact that Oliver actually uses it as nothing more than an excuse to get into the Merlyn building.
Equally baffling is Detective Lance and Laurel’s constant assertions that Oliver has “changed” when they’ve witnessed absolutely nothing for themselves to back this up.
All this aside, it's time to bring on the season finale...
