The Legend of Korra: After All These Years

What? More Korra? Already? I can't keep up with Nickelodeon's logic in the airing of this show, especially when it's at its absolute best. I just hope none of this decreases my chances for a prequel series that explores the lives of the pre-Aang Avatars.

But let's jump straight in since that's clearly what they want us to do. Quickly establishing that three years have passed since the final shot of season three – that broken, devastated look on Korra's face – we get a surprising lack of emphasis on our main characters; instead a sharp look at the political landscape is what takes up the bulk of this episode.

Asami, Mako, Bolin, Tenzin and Lin are quickly accounted for, but it's Kuvira, Opal and Kai that really take centre stage in introducing and exploring the new political situation. If season three was all about anarchy, then season four would appear to focus on fascism. In the wake of the Earth Queen's murder two figureheads have emerged, each one representing a different mode of government. On the one hand, we have Prince Wu, the Queen's niece. On the other, we have Kuvira.

Sure enough, the overt introduction of Kuvira at the end of last season was a hint as to her prominence in this season, and she's certainly risen in power and status. Travelling round the Earth Kingdom in a train, she's supplying townships with supplies and protection – but only if they commit their allegiance to her, the Great Uniter.

Most places sign up to this deal, plagued as they are by bandits that roam the countryside (even without spelling it out, this feels like a natural consequence of Ba Sing Se's coup) but a few cling to their independence. It's here the Air Nomads come in, helping out where they can.

But they're stretched thin, and they have minimal supplies – which makes Kuvira's offer all the more tempting, especially since the heir to the throne is a foppish teenager.

It surprised me that Opal and Kai were so pronounced here, though I wouldn't be surprised if they were phased out a little in consecutive episodes. They were prominent enough last season to deserve a little screen-time, but not so much that they have the right to take over the show. So here they were used to reintroduce us to the idea of the Air Nomads (I loved the flying squirrel suits and their professional/personal rapport with each other), as well as yet more Bei Fong family drama.

Turns out that Kuvira (who used to be part of the Metal Clan, remember?) has broken away from Suyin due to ideological differences. This is unsurprising given what we know about Suyin's policies, but it turns out that her son Bataar (shown only fleetingly last season) has pulled a Percy Weasley and is now engaged to Kuvira. For her part, Opal is not happy about any of this, creating added stress with Bolin, who works for Kuvira.

Oh, and Varrick is along for the ride. Because of course he is.

But Kuvira is certainly a force to be reckoned with, and after only a single episode of watching her at work, she has the potential to be a brilliant antagonist. Zelda Williams has a wonderful voice – brisk, clear, a little husky – and it brings the character to life in a way that Henry Rollins never really managed to do with Zaheer, who was wonderfully written, but tonally flat.

Here, watching Kuvira expertly thrash the bandits attacking the train, smoothly manoeuvring her way around the antagonism of Opal and the Governor, and no doubt ordering the bandits to steal Kai and Opal's supplies so that the Governor would be forced to sign her treaty all make her a force to be reckoned with.

And have we ever seen a metal bender manipulate magnetic forces before? Because I'm pretty sure that's what the "clink" sound effects were suggesting when she threw the bandits together and lined them up either side of the railway line.

So many wonderful little character beats that demonstrated how others behaved around her: how Varrick, Bataar and Bolin lowered their teacups when she announced she would not celebrate, how her presence stretched as far as Republic City when her followers threw pies at Prince Wu, the bandit insisting that they wouldn't have attacked the train if they'd known it was her, and the cheering of the villagers as they wilfully submitted to her control.

These are her allies. Including her fiancé. Even they're uncomfortable.

I truly hope that she remains as she is now: committed to her cause without going overboard into real villainy.

***

Have you ever noticed that whenever a show does a time jump, all the characters are either completely unchanged, or have undergone a total personality switch? Or alternatively, if only a short amount of time has passed (usually when a season ends on a cliff-hanger), they seem much older and more mature, as though they've skipped a few seasons of on-screen development?

Here the writers managed to avoid that particular inconsistency, making our leads visibly older both physically and emotionally – though Asami's use of the phrase "after all these years" seems a little generous for a mere three.

Though at the same time, things still felt a little jarring. That Mako, Bolin, Asami and Korra have been separated for so long is difficult to get my head around, though it makes sense when you consider Korra's condition and the other three's need for employment. As it is, the show made surprisingly good use of the time skip – by having it be unsurprising in some ways and a little unsettling in others, it comes across as very realistic.

And of course, they hold off on Korra's appearance until the final few minutes. Disregarding Tonraq's absurd lack of emotion when he realizes that his daughter has been missing for six months, this was an ingenious way of raising audience suspense as to her whereabouts, topped off by the realization that nobody knows where she is.

So where is she? Getting beaten up in bending matches, clearly not at her physical or mental best. The amount of hate Korra gets in fandom has always saddened me, as she's never been a malicious or unfriendly person – just headstrong and overly passionate. Now it would appear that's she's lost herself, signified by her cut hair, her defeated stance and her sad "I wouldn't know" when she's asked what happened to the Avatar. Get well soon, girl!

 

How can you hate her for this?

Arrow: City of Heroes

Is there any chance I'm going to finish season two of Arrow before season three finishes? No way. But I'll make a valiant effort to make a dent in it.

Having just watched the first episode of the fourth season of The Legend of Korra, the structural similarities of each premiere illustrated just what is required from a season opener. It needs to remind the audience of what happened in the last finale, update us on the characters, and lay down the groundwork for the forthcoming story-arcs.

As it happened, Arrow managed this juggling act pretty well. There was nothing particularly thrilling or jaw-dropping about it, but as a competent catch-up on the story's progress and a rearrangement of all the pieces, it did the job.  

After the destruction of the Glades thanks to Malcolm Merlyn's nefarious scheming, Oliver has returned to the island of Lian Yu in a wave of guilt and failure (and perhaps a dose of PTSD – not from the earthquake, but from its original island ordeal). Diggle and Felicity show up to coax him back to civilization, and the fan service begins immediately:

Because this show is going nowhere until Oliver is back in Starling City, it doesn't take long for Diggle and Felicity to convince him to return home.

Updates on the rest of the cast? Queen Consolidated is being bought by an all-grown-up River Tam, Laurel is working for Paul from Orphan Black (posing undercover as a district attorney), Moira is in jail, Detective Lance has been demoted, and Thea has stepped up in order to take over the management of Verdant. Check, check and check.

Hello Paul. Seriously, I'm going to be calling this character Paul.

I was pleasantly surprised by Thea in this episode. It would have been easy to make her slip into despair in the wake of her mother's betrayal and Oliver's disappearance, but the show – perhaps sensing the character's tenuous popularity – instead decided to give her a dose of maturity instead. And even her fury at her mother was not based so much on a sense of personal betrayal, but of moral anger at the innocent lives lost in the quake.

And I have to admit that I mildly ship Thea/Roy. "Mildly" in the sense that I won't be too disappointed when their inevitable breakup comes, but for now it feels like the one ship that isn't being shoved in my face by either the writers (Oliver/Laurel) or the fandom (Oliver/Felicity). It's just pottering along in a low-key little subplot, quietly satifying my enjoyment of uptown girl/backstreet boy pairings.

I hope those two crazy kids make it.

Laurel is also in a good place. It mercifully seems as though both she and the writers realize that a relationship with Oliver is bad for her (you'd have thought cheating on her with her sister was a dead giveaway) and if nothing else, Katie Cassidy looked great in that dress. Seriously, where can I track that down?

Okay, so there's a plot in here somewhere. In the wake of the vigilante's absence, a group of men styling themselves as "the Hoods" (not impersonators, but copycats) have been wreaking havoc on the one-percenters. Like many of their ilk, they are able to effortlessly waltz through security and gun down guards, but are inexplicitly stymied when facing characters from the opening credits.

They are given some perfunctory backstory to muddy the moral waters a little (they all had loved ones that died in the quake), but unlike Oliver, who tried to show at least some restrain, these guys are deliberating murdering people – including the mayor.

But hilariously, no one actually cares that the mayor was brutally gunned down, and media coverage instead opts to break the news that Oliver Queen is back in town. In a nice bit of irony, this spurs the Hoods to go after Oliver. In a bad bit of irony, they end up taking Thea hostage instead.

I actually don’t know how many times in total Thea has been captured, and there's a good chance that I'm being totally unfair to her, but she definitely seems to exist as the go-to victim for a quick-'n-easy way to get Oliver emotionally invested. Even though he didn't bother communicating with her during his second stint on the island.

Again.

It's at this point that the theme of the episode comes to the fore. In order to honour Tommy's memory (the only guy in any comic book adaptation to ever act like a real person on learning that their best friend was a vigilante) Oliver decides that maybe he's not going to kill so many people anymore. Which no doubt means that authorial fiat will ensure that he will never again be put into a position in which he has to kill anyone.

Look, I appreciate that this show actually takes life and death relatively seriously (except when it comes to random security guards). And I can clearly see the trajectory of where they're going in regards to Oliver evolving into Green Arrow. Heck, I even have newfound appreciation for the island flashbacks considering they're mapping out Oliver's kill-or-be-killed survivor/soldier mentality.

But the problem with any live-action superhero adaptation is that the easiest way for vigilantes to keep their hands blood-free while simultaneously helping the community is to stop taking the law into their own hands and go work in a soup kitchen. Their chosen recreational activity will inevitably – at some point, either accidentally or deliberately – require them to take a life. Which immediately puts a dent in our definition of a hero.

Oliver, having completed the task his father gave him, now decides to "try something different" in making a concentrated effort to spare the lives of criminals. To be honest, I thought he was already doing that throughout season one, and killing only when it was necessary. Now it appears that he's going to really, really make an effort not to kill anyone, which brings me back to my first point – that the writers will probably deal with this by never putting him in a position in which he has to. Which won't exactly fit into the gritty real-world atmosphere that they're trying to create.

Tone is a tricky thing. It needs to stay consistent if a show – however outlandish the premise – is going to remain grounded. Arrow has always tread a strange line between comic book craziness and real world consequences – we'll see how this plays out as the season goes on.

Just to wrap things up, Oliver gets one up on Isabel Rochev, the head of a rival company that's trying to buy out Queen Consolidated (or something). According to Felicity, Isabel "looks angry in every photo" (she really doesn't) but the tiny glimmer of a grin when Oliver shakes her hand suggests that he'll be adding another notch to his bedpost soon enough.

"I look forward to sleeping with you even though
I doubt it'll make any sense given my characterization."

I'm not looking forward to the inevitable hook-up between these two. Arrow is generally pretty good in its depiction of women, but Oliver has dated every significant female character on this show that isn't his sister or his mother. Laurel, Sara, Helena, McKenna, Shado...

Why is fandom so desperate for him to date Felicity? It's not that he actively mistreats these women in any way (except for Laurel), but he sure as hell goes through them like a kid through a revolving door.

Miscellaneous Observations:

Ah, the dramatic line-reading. You've seen it everywhere – a portentous line is delivered to no one in particular, leaving everyone to wonder just who exactly it was for. Here we have Stephen Amell say: "you shouldn't have come here," while gazing off into the middle-distance. Who is he talking to? Not quite himself, not quite Felicity, not quite the folks at hope – but all three.

"You shouldn't have come here, off-screen tree."

Apparent a man called "Blood" is in the running for mayor. Wow, there's no way he's going to end up a villain.

Did I hear a TV broadcaster mention a "Star Labs particle accelerator?" That sounds promising in a very Flash sort of way.

It's always fun to see familiar faces turn up – this episode includes a post-Firefly Summer Glau and a pre-Orphan Black Dylan Bruce.

It was great seeing Mr Steele again, especially in his capacity as a stepfather to Oliver. Not only did it parallel Thea's visit to Moira in prison, but it was a nice moment of rapport in a dynamic you don't see very often (stepfather/stepson – what's more, an ex-stepfather/stepson). I'm glad I forgot about seeing Colin Salmon's name in the opening credits.

And finally, the introduction of Black Canary. This ties in nicely with the episode's title: City of Heroes. That is, plural. It wasn't just Oliver who is a hero here, it's Walter who comes to his financial rescue, Roy who goes out fighting street crime, Laurel who's struggling on with her life, Thea who got her act together and took over the club...

And so it was exciting to me that Black Canary's introduction doesn't involve Oliver or the vigilante at all, but instead depicts her coming to Roy's rescue. Roy who has yet to cross paths, properly at least, with Green Arrow. It's almost as though she's slipped through the side-door instead of barging through the main entrance, and it hints at a widening of the show's focus, in which Oliver/Arrow is no longer the sole protectorate of Starling City, that events and ideas and relationships are beginning to expand.  

Downton Abbey: S05E03

Mary and Gillingham are in the midst of the most genteel love affair of all time. On the one hand, it's nice that Mary is happy and relaxed, on the other, it's clear that this whole thing is a train heading towards a collapsed bridge. He's pushing too hard for marriage and she's still being coy.

Then there's this:

 Not a good post-coital look.

"I've been tarnished once, I won't be tarnished again." Does that mean she's told Gillingham about Pamuk?

Violet and Isabel give me life. I know I say it every week, but they really are the reason I'm still watching. I wish they had more love: if they were young and male you know fandom would be all over this dynamic.

Mrs Patmore's plea to Mrs Hughes over the war memorial was fairly heart-breaking. That was a nice bit of continuity regarding her nephew, and naturally Mr Carson decides to be an ass about it despite the growing awareness of shell shock.

If I was Violet I couldn't bear to have Sprat in the house. He creeps me out. But in another demonstration of just how good Maggie Smith is, Violet's Bad Bad Acting in creating a cover-story for Mary on the spur of the moment was actually quite good; but just strained enough so that the audience could see a little crack in her veneer. All the awards to Dame Maggie.

Lily James's breathless hesitation before she tackled that mouthful of Russian was rather amusing.

Poor Anna. Recently she's been up there with Edith in the bad luck department, and now she's going to have to go through the whole rape trauma again because her husband took matters into his own hands (instead of Anna feeling confident enough to go to the police because she knew her husband would take matters in to his own hands). And what are the odds that Bates is going to find Mary's diaphragm and go berserk?

And I can't believe that Fellowes going over this "is Bates a killer?" thing all over again. Surely he's going to have to prove that he was in York or else it's a total re-tread of season... three? I actually forgot what season all that took place in.

Mary and Violet in a room together – priceless! "A young woman of good family who finds herself in the bed of man who is not her husband has invariably been seduced." Then they have a face-off:

 

Every woman deserves a flirt outside of marriage every once in a while, but naturally Robert manages to spoil Cora's good mood. Still it was nice to create that thematic resonance between Violet, Cora and Mary.

Edith's story is going downhill, not just because it's veering back into depressing territory, but because the whole thing could be resolved if they simply told Mrs Drewes what's really going on.

Mercifully the Baxter drama seems to have played itself out. I like Raquel Cassidy's performance, but I don't think any other subplot has ever dragged on this long. Not even Bates.

I laughed at off-screen Rosamund, which I assume means that Samantha Bond is again busy with other projects.

Tom and Mary as confidants! I've missed their quiet rapport with each other, and there was even an acknowledgement of love in that conversation.

Damn it Miss Bunting, I was in your corner! But upsetting overemotional Russian visitors in somebody else's house was not cool.

That final moment when Violet is confronted with Prince Kuragin ... I have to admit I got a little emotional. Now, finally, Fellowes strikes gold! So much history demonstrated with so little words between these two characters, topped off with a simple but weighty "I don't know" when Violet asks after Kuragin's wife. Beautifully done.

This episode had a bit more energy than the previous two, with an added bonus of delivering up some of my favourite interactions: Mary/Violet, Mary/Tom, Isabel/Violet. The last few minutes were pure gold, almost enough to make up for the entire season so far,  so I guess I'll stick around for the final stretch.

Doctor Who: Kill the Moon

It strikes me just how different Doctor Who is now compared to its stint under R.T. Davies. It's hard to pin-point what exactly: the characters, the plots, the atmosphere? But something fundamental has changed to the point where it feels like I'm watching an entirely different show.

In any case, here are twelve thoughts on Kill the Moon:

1. Did Doctor Who just do a pro-life episode?

 

Er... we'll get to this in a bit.

2. The cold opening flash-forward has Clara inform us that an innocent life is at stake and a terrible choice must be made in forty-five minutes. And what are the odds? That's the same length of an episode!

Okay, I'm being snarky but the fact that the timer was set well into the episode's forty-five minute run meant that the line was a fun bit of meta rather than another take on season three's 42.

3. I do wish the Doctor wasn't Sherlock. Swanning about arrogantly, telling children that they're not special (didn't he once assert the exact opposite?), espousing his own intelligence and treating people like annoyances.

Look, I get that they're trying to do something different with his personality, and he's thankfully called out on his behaviour by everyone from Clara to Courtney to Lundvik – but it's not like he's actually going to modify his unpleasantness, right? Which leaves him as Sherlock: too brilliant to care.

4. I'm willing to hand-wave that the Doctor is always able to talk his way into and out of situations that he has no right to be involved with (well, except that one time), though I had to laugh at the completely casual acceptance of his presence on a space shuttle that he could not have possibly stowed away on. Judging from Lundvik's expression, you'd think that doctors, teachers and teenagers popping up out of nowhere was completely normal.

5. I was initially torn on Courtney Woods, disruptive influence, fluctuating as she did between annoying and amusing – but I ultimately settled on amusing. I suppose I'm still scarred by those awful brats of last season, but Courtney had an appropriate reaction to being on the moon (awe and excitement), followed up with a botched Neil Armstrong quote and a shot of her cheerfully taking pictures on her phone.

6. Ah, those orange spacesuits. A trip down memory lane, and so much better than the bulky plastic grey ones.

7. At about the twenty-minute mark this generic episode with stock characters got really interesting, though up until that point it was a standard re-tread of a typical episode. The abandoned space station, the bodies fixed to the wall, the spidery aliens that crawl out of the darkness, the Red Shirts that die to prove how dire the situation is and who get a couple of seconds of post-mortem characterization as their friends recall how great they were...

There were even a few silly bits just to keep us off our guard, including the use of spray-and-wipe to repel giant spiders and a line so clichéd that it made me blink in astonishment: "don't try this at home."

But all this was a smoke-screen to lull us into a sense of uninterested security, designed to make the outrageously awesome reveal all the more gob-smacking:

The moon is an egg, and it's about to hatch.

In a single moment our perception of the silvery orb is changed forever, and I realize just how fond I am of its presence in the night sky.

8. Before we get to the juicy stuff, I just want to point out how much I enjoyed the rapport between Clara and Courtney. As ever, Clara's first instinct is to look after the child in her vicinity, and most of the protective body language was (I like to think) down to Jenna Louise Coleman.

9. There was some interesting commentary here on the nature of history and the foreknowledge/responsibility of those who move through it.

The Doctor speaks of "grey areas" in which he's unaware of course history will take; I honestly don't know if he was telling the truth or just trying to prep Clara for her decisive moment, but instead of just being a half-hearted attempt at creating some tension, this mini-speech served to really make us wonder at Clara's insistence that she had already been into the future and seen the moon, safe and sound. Had she? Or was it, as the Doctor suggested, just a hologram or a model?

This episode's consciousness of time and its passage was beautifully captured in a few throwaway lines: Lundvik's amused recollection that: "my Gran used to put things on Tumblr," and the Doctor's off-handed mention of Courtney becoming President.

10. And the moon's an egg. Did I mention that? It's not collapsing but hatching, which is causing havoc with the tides down on earth, and results in our characters facing a typical science-fiction moral dilemma: do they take an innocent life in order to kill millions more?

The question may be a cliché, but the way it played out is certainly not. The Doctor unexpectedly bows out, declaring that this is a problem for mankind – sorry, womankind – to deal with on their own. And we're left with an astronaut, a school teacher and a teenage girl in a room together, disagreeing on their best course of action whilst simultaneously high-jumping over the Bechdel Test.

Clara feels the weight of this decision more than anyone. Courtney is adamant on saving the creature, but is too young to really feel what's at stake (after all, she's still at an age where adults make the decisions for her). Lundvik is determined to destroy it, and perfectly ready to die in the bid to save millions more. Clara is the mediating force between the two, and overwhelmed by the responsibility, she turns to Earth's population to decide.

Her broadcast instructs them – us – to turn off the lights if they want to save their own lives; to keep them lit if they're willing to take a leap of faith and see what emerges from the egg. And when the Earth responds with the unsurprising response (a black out), it's clear why the writer decided to put three women at the focal point of this episode.

I'm not going to come out and say that this episode contained a deliberate pro-life message. I think the writer came up with the brilliant idea to make the moon an egg, sketched out an ethical dilemma around its hatching, and then realized the real-world connotations. So it becomes a pro-choice episode, in which three women, not men, decide the fate of the orbiting sphere that has so long been associated with femininity and womanly cycles.

They ignore the message from mankind and make their own decision. That, for me, makes it more pro-choice than anti-abortion. Your views may differ.

11. By letting the moon hatch the women reopen the wondrous possibility of exploration in the stars, though Clara is severely shaken by the whole experience. The entire planet was placed in her hands, even when she tried to pass responsibility to everyone else (literally) so when she lashes out at the Doctor for the position he put her in, I could understand her anger.

She was nowhere to be seen in the preview for next week's episode, and I don't much blame her.

12. But what a perfect ending. Clara, alone in her apartment, glass of wine in hand, staring out at the moon – still waiting to hatch.

Outlander: The Wedding and Both Sides Now

Given that Outlander is not scheduled to return until April, I decided to go ahead and watch the final two episodes. Seeing them back to back was an exercise in contrast, for The Wedding was as beautifully structured as Both Sides Now was decidedly patchy.

This sense of duality was prevalent throughout The Wedding on a number of levels. Its focal point is the wedding night between Jamie and Claire, with flashbacks moving not only to the wedding preparations, but also Claire’s shotgun wedding to Frank, which he springs upon her on the way to their first meeting with his parents.

By comparison, the Jamie/Claire wedding is a hurried but significantly more planned affair. We see the conditions that Jamie sets for the wedding; his insistence on a ring, a proper venue and a wedding gown for Claire, all indicators that however convenient this marriage may seem on the surface, he plans to take it seriously.

It’s the type of gender subversion that’s been a staple part of their relationship from the start, not only in their interactions but in the way the camera depicts them together.

When was the last time you saw a man and woman
in this position on a romantic novel cover? The answer is: never.

Not since Breaking Dawn (which I have never seen, though I’ve read all the snarky recaps) has a wedding ever been more lovingly filmed, with slow pans over the wedding gown, soft candlelight illuminating the frames, and reverent silence even from the most rowdy Scots.

When the wedding night comes, every excruciatingly awkward moment is captured, every nervous hand-wring, all the heavy breathing, and the longest undressing ever committed to screen. I’ll admit, I had to laugh when Claire’s request to hear about Jamie’s family is suddenly interrupted by her internal voiceover (demonstrating that even the show doesn’t care about Jamie’s family history, especially not when the audience has been promised sex) and that Jamie’s admission of his virginal status is confirmed when his first time lasts about ten seconds. If that.

But the show surprises us by ensuring that the newlyweds don’t stop there. There’s more talk between the two of them, and we learn about Dougal rounding up an ordained priest, Rupert and Angus commissioning a wedding ring, and Ned going in search of a suitable dress. This last one was the most heart-warming; it took place in a brothel and the Madame had a gown left behind by one of their clients. According to her: “it’s best I [never wore it]. No lass should wear another woman’s dress on her wedding day.”

Judging by Ned’s face, he didn’t expect to hear such a sentiment in a brothel, and the episode is full of such moments. Murtagh, in his talk with Jamie, compares Claire’s smile to that of Jamie’s mother; conversely, Rupert’s polite response to Claire’s thanks regarding the ring is soon undermined by his crude comment: “that one looks well ridden” as soon as her back is turned.  

And then there’s Dougal. Dougal, Dougal, Dougal. He needs to stop, and I still haven’t forgotten the corridor assault, but he remains one of my favourite characters. But I mean really, organizing the marriage only to get pissy that he wasn’t getting enough credit for it? Propositioning the bride on her wedding night? Only to immediately punch Rupert in the face when he insults her honour? Look, I can recognize highly inappropriate behaviour in a character, but from a Doylistic point-of-view I can also highly enjoy it.

From sacredness to debauchery, nervousness to enjoyment, warmth to coldness, even lightness to darkness and back again (see below), this was an episode seeped in careful and deliberate contrast.

 

 

Which all ironically served as a contrast to the rather messy following episode. Both Sides Now has a lot of material, none of which holds together in a particularly cohesive way.

It begins with Jamie and Claire having a pleasant picnic together in what looks like thoroughly miserable weather when they’re approached by Hugh Munro, a man who claims to have evidence that could clear Jamie’s name.

Then we get a short sequence in which the encampment is attacked by bandits, and an ensuing Chekhov’s Lecture (in which Claire is taught how to use a knife) which might as well have had foreshadowing flashing at the bottom of the screen.

Then comes an attempted rape by two English deserters – this is where Claire’s newly taught knifing skills come in handy, before her realization that the party have come within a hair’s breathe of the standing stones. She makes a run for it, only to be arrested by red coats, thus rendering the entire marriage plan completely pointless.

And throughout it all are “side-flashes” to Frank and his growing despair over his wife’s disappearance. I haven’t read these books, though I do know that they’re in first-person narrative, so I’m assuming that these bits are unique to the television show. And sadly, they come across as a bit redundant. It would have taken only a few shots to depict Frank’s desolation, but they add a sequence in which a young woman offers to take Frank to the Highlander that he saw under Claire’s window. It turns out to be a trap designed to rob him, though there is at least a chilling demonstration of his genes when he proceeds to beat the shit out of his attackers.

And was that a black jack club he was using to defend himself? Ah, I see what you did there!

But it would appear that the rape content I’d been warned about is on its way. Heck, we got two attempts in one episode. I’m not going to start a debate on the whys and how-tos of depicting rape in a responsible manner; suffice to say that I don’t particularly like watching it in any context, and it’s probably going to impinge on my enjoyment of the episodes to come (as I know that more is on its way).

And though I certainly don’t think Claire’s strength is undermined by the fact she’s sexually threatened by male characters, I still think it’s unfortunate that her final scene before the hiatus is being bent over a desk, at Jack’s mercy, spared only by the timely intervention of her husband.

Miscellaneous Observations:

To quote Claire on seeing the standing stones: “Last I was here, I was Claire Randall. Then Claire Beauchamp. Then Claire Fraser.” It’s a typical case of a woman’s identity being wrapped up in her father/husband’s surname, one that reminded me a little of Amelia Pond (who the Doctor would refer to as Amelia Williams whenever things got serious) but given that Claire’s a contemporary of the 1940s, I can understand why she would think in these terms.

The character of Hugh Munro was beautifully played; this show is exceptionally good at breathing life into the most minor of characters. And he gives Claire a dragonfly in amber... I have no idea what the significance of this is, only that it’s the title of the next book, so it must mean something.

Tobias Menzies is incredible. There’s such an obvious difference between Frank and Black Jack, even as a little of that divide was closed in Frank’s beating of his assailants. And that look on Jack’s face – that expression of incredulous joy when Jamie appears at the window... terrifying.

See? Terrifying.

 

Woman of the Month: Abbie Mills

Abbie Mills from Sleepy Hollow

It had to be Abbie Mills. I just didn’t have a choice!

It’s rare enough to get a WOC lead in a television show like this, but the Sleepy Hollow writers go one step further and ensure that she’s got a complex backstory, plenty of agency, an important destiny and a ton of great lines. There are so many facets of her character to explore, from her tense relationship with her sister, to her role as a guide/mentor/partner to Ichabod, to her own personal misgivings and growing faith surrounding her role as a Witness.

Plenty of comparison have already been made between herself and Dana Scully (especially in her relationship to Ichabod/Mulder, complete with the same brand of intense chemistry), but what’s especially appealing about Abbie is that she gets to be the humorous, playful one. There are so many female characters out there who are characterized as joyless shrews, but Abbie gets to crack jokes and poke fun in the face of Ichabod’s more stick-in-the-mud persona.

But I think my favourite aspect to this character would have to be in comparison to her sister. Any other series probably would have chosen Jenny as the female lead: the tough Sarah Conner figure who told the truth about her childhood experience and was duly locked up for it. But instead the story follows the sister who covered up the truth, the one that lied because she was afraid of what it might mean if no one believed what had happened to her. She’s lived with that lie hanging over her head for years, the knowledge that she betrayed her sister. And now that Ichabod has entered her life, along with all the rest of the supernatural drama, she’s the one that has to ask for forgiveness – which is a very different type of story from those that chose to give it.

Now in season two, she remains the focal point of the show (despite some ridiculous media claims that she’s merely a “sidekick”), balancing out faith with common sense, strength with compassion, fear with bravery and a droll sense of humour throughout it all.

Sleepy Hollow: The Kindred

We’re into the second episode of the second season and things haven’t slowed down for one second. After busting Abbie out of Purgatory, Ichabod now focuses his attention on Katrina, currently being held hostage by the Headless Horseman.

But although this episode may have seemed like it centred on Ichabod and Abbie’s rescue attempt, it was actually all about neutralizing the situation and establishing the status quo of the season. Thus, Katrina is staying put for now. Moloch is planning a new escape route out of Purgatory which will no doubt take him exactly eleven episodes to concoct and prepare for. Henry is being provided with tools to cause trouble. Ichabod and Abbie have a new Sheriff to contend with.

The premise of this episode probably came about after several drinks and a game of double-dare in the writer's room (“Can we actually get away with this?” “Sure – I dare you!”), as it involves George Washington teaming up with the coven of the Radiant Heart to create a warrior called the Kindred, the only thing that could possibly prove a match for the Horseman of Death, which is assembled out of dead body parts stitched together by Benjamin Franklin.

I mean, wow. Standing ovation.

Screencap has not been tampered with in any way.

But Franklin never got it to work as it was missing a vital ingredient: a piece of the Horseman himself. But guess who has his head stashed away in a bank vault?

Abbie and Jenny are not at all keen on the idea of resurrecting Franklinstein (okay, I’m betting that the writers came up with this creature JUST so they could make that joke), which leads to an interesting bit of debate. Is it ever okay to use something evil in the service of good? Is it even possible to harness the powers of evil and utilize it for a noble purpose?

Okay, the show doesn’t really care, as it’s all designed to lead to a frankly awesome three-way fight between Headless (axe), the Kindred (pike), and Henry’s suit of armour (flaming sword). I’m just sorry it didn’t last longer.

It's awesome.

But the scene illustrations the very delicate line between goofy fun and realistic stakes that this show constantly treads.

For instance, I appreciate the logic that went into Ichabod and Abbie narrowing down the Horseman’s whereabouts. They took into account the speed he galloped off in, the fact that sunlight would stop him in his tracks, and all the land that was once owned by Abraham’s family. They even psycho-analysis him by taking into account his history with Ichabod and his status as a jilted lover. Nice stuff.

However, I’m not totally sold on the complications that arise from Sheriff Reyes being introduced to the show. Obviously, it’s only natural that a new sheriff would be appointed in the wake of Irving’s confession and arrest, but she’s a roadblock standing in the way of Ichabod and Abbie that is – well, rather mundane and not particularly interesting.

YET. I’m reserving judgment on the character considering that she clearly knows something about Abbie and Jenny’s past – specifically their mother – that may prove extremely interesting. In Abbie’s words, Mrs Mills was “a little bit totally crazy.” Hmm, I’m guessing either she was only considered crazy, or there’s something else going on. Ichabod has two associates who turned out to be Horsemen, I think it’s Abbie’s turn for a similar revelation.

(See what I did there? Revelation?)

As ever, the show is strongest when it concentrates on the central characters, and there was some nice character beats here between Ichabod and Abbie. As ever, Abbie is focused on the bigger picture. Heck, she’s focused on the biggest picture – saving the world. And she’s rightly concerned, given Ichabod’s actions in the season finale, that he loses focus when Katrina gets involved.

Nothing gives me more joy than my favourite characters peeking out from behind trees.

And though it’s natural that Ichabod tried to defend his behaviour by pointing out the pragmatic reasons behind a rescue attempt (“Katrina is a witch of extraordinary ability that could tip the scale of this war on either side” - *gigglesnort*) I really don’t think it’s necessary.

The fact remains that she’s his wife. His desire to rescue her isn’t just rooted in personal desire but in his responsibility to her. Whether or not you like the character of Katrina, whether or not you buy into her relationship with Ichabod, what this comes down to is Ichabod doing his duty as a husband. He has a moral obligation to help her.

Put it this way – he could hate Katrina’s guts, and yet rescuing her would still be the right thing to do. I appreciate that the show is trying to portray Katrina as his weakness, as the person who causes him to make bad decisions, but in doing so it’s rather wrongheadedly trying to paint this as a flaw. Marriage comes with its own set of responsibilities, and he’s not wrong to try and honour that.

It bizarrely reminds me of Shrek 2, in which Fiona is tricked into thinking that Prince Charming is Shrek. On seeing them together, Shrek decides to “let her go”, apparently forgetting that he’s her husband and that marriage changes the rules.

I honestly have no idea why I’m nit-picking this. Still, at least the Abbie/Ichabod tension is consistent in this regard.

On the Katrina front – this was an improvement? I guess? Katrina starts using guile to gain some traction in her situation; incredibly fake guile that makes Abraham look like a total idiot, but – hey, baby steps.

After a painful reminder of just how utterly powerless this so-called powerful witch apparently is (which ended up being Ichabod’s nightmare), we watch as Katrina continues to ignore her witch powers (seriously, have they given a reason for why she’s not using them yet?) and instead taps into her Quaker spy skills to lull Abraham into a false sense of security.

And there was an interesting glimpse of deeper characterization here, when Abraham channels fandom and points out that it took Ichabod months to break Katrina out of Purgatory, but only a few hours to do the same to Abbie. That got under her skin, and an interesting Held Gaze was shared between the two women after Katrina opts to stay with Abraham.

But most of all, I hope that the show continues to explore her relationship with Henry. She’s the one that he really hates, and I liked that her mother instincts kicked in when she addressed him as “Jeremy.” If the writers are wise, they’ll concentrate on Katrina trying to redeem Henry (however unsuccessfully) than any tedious love triangle.

And in this episode’s final subplot, Irving gets himself out of jail by playing the insanity card and getting himself transferred to the psychiatrist ward. Unfortunately, Ichabod and Abbie forgot to fill him in on the existence of Henry Parrish, who has done some evil mojo over a pen before presenting himself as Irving’s lawyer.

Tone it down, Henry.

Before you know it, Irving has gone and signed something in his own blood. Personally I call foul, as evil contracts cannot possibly be lawful unless the signee is fully aware of what they’re agreeing to, but whatever.

***

I know I run the risk of becoming immensely unpopular, but so far there’s something a bit off about this season. Perhaps it’s partly because I’ve been waiting so long for it to return that my expectations have been raised too high, but there are definitely some clunky bits.

It’s kind of like how I feel about Tangled and Frozen. I enjoy those movies, but at the same time it feels like they’re too self-consciously trying to fit the mould of a classic Disney film. And this season kind of feels like it’s trying too hard to be Sleepy Hollow instead of just being Sleepy Hollow. There’s a checklist for each episode that is dutifully fulfilled: a cameo from a founding father, Ichabod getting miffed with modernity, a bonding moment between the Witnesses, a crazy new monster... they’ve even brought back that camera trick of a 180 degree tilt as an establishing shot:  

Miscellaneous Observations:

New people in the opening credits! Hi Lyndie Greenwood and John Noble!

I hate having to relegate Jenny to the miscellaneous column, but there wasn’t really much for her to do in this episode but fetch some weapons and be immediately arrested for possession of them. She existed so that she could be shifted out of the way. Still, I liked her line to Abbie: “don’t take thirteen years to come get me this time.”

From the looks of it, Sheriff Reyes isn’t very popular in fandom, but I like that she apologized to Abbie for using the word “insanity.”

The bats in the underground tunnels threw me a little; I noticed them in Moloch’s cave and thought that sequence went on a little too long just to be for show; but apparently they served to trigger Abbie’s PTSD...? It provided a new reading on that scene in which Fake!Ichabod offered water to Abbie in Purgatory – that she was so desperate for it to be him that she accepted the water because she couldn’t bear it not to be him.

I finally felt something that resembled a connection between Ichabod and Katrina during their tearful farewell – but then it went away when I realized that however much information Katrina gathers, she has no way of getting it to the Witnesses. Will her witch powers finally come back?

I dread Abraham and Henry being turned into idiots by Katrina’s not-very-convincing guile. Sure, people will believe what they want to hear. But surely it would have made more sense for Katrina to play Abraham right from the start of her captivity – perhaps in such a way that it would have sowed doubt in the audience’s mind as to what she was really up to.

Ichabod saying of the Horseman: “he may know we’re here” made me laugh. Yeah Ichabod, probably because you performed your little ceremony so close to the carriage house that he could have watched you from an upstairs window.

Not a good hiding place.

Technically the Horseman was fighting his own head. That’s awesome. And consider the metaphysical implications of that. What sort of thought process does the Kindred have? How much of Abraham is still inside his own skull? Was Abraham aware when his head blinked in Abbie’s hands? Could it be that the viciousness of the Kindred’s attack on Abraham was at least partially spurred on by a sense of self-loathing? And where is the Kindred now?

It’s official – no one gives a shit about Luke Morales. No one on the show has mentioned him, and nobody on any of the message boards I visited seems to care.