This Week In TV Year II (Week 2)

During the last TV season I got myself into a right tizzy blogging about the various shows aired that week, taking on too much for little reward. So, with the new season starting in a staggered manner, I'm coming to it a bit late (or perhaps too early). I'm not sure I'll be able to keep this up each week, but I will try, if only to see how long Fringe lasts, which is a shocking turn of events considering it was expected to be such a big hit. That said, it does featureone unmissable element...

Mad Scientist of the Week:

Dr. Walter Bishop is our new favourite character on TV after just a few minutes of screentime, but if you've seen Fringe you'll probably understand. While the show underwhelms as drama and underperforms as a ratings grabber, it's got four things going for it. 1) Lance "Intensity" Reddick in full effect. 2) Blair Brown as the cyber-arm wielding Nina Sharp, though her casting appeals to me more as a reminder of Altered States than anything else. 3) Darin Morgan is on staff as a consulting producer, hopefully getting to add his stamp to the show in the way he didn't on the Diabolical Bionical Woman. 4) is Walter Bishop, a modern-day Frankenstein, shunned by the scientific community, mistrusted by his son, and perhaps responsible for The Pattern, a mysterious sounding arc-MacGuffin that sounds like it was put into play by Milo Rambaldi and Gerald De Groot in an Abrams-verse super-team-up.


None of which would make an impact at this early stage, if it wasn't for John Noble's vastly entertaining performance. After one particularly amazing line-reading, which made a tedious comment both silly, informative, and heart-wrenching all at the same time, Canyon exclaimed, "Oh my God he's so good!"


She was right. Nailing every joke and wringing pathos out of every situation, he brought the goods. Even if the other reasons to watch don't pan out, we're sticking around for John Noble.

Most Pointless Character of the Week:

Though I would have loved to have given it to Chase, who continues to serve little or no purpose in House (less than Cameron, amazingly), the honor has to go to the utterly vestigial Peter Bishop, a supposed supergenius in his own right, but whose purpose on Fringe seems to be repeating dialogue back to people just I case the audience missed it the first time around. The only wrinkle Joshua Jackson adds is to deliver those lines either with reflexive, annoying sarcasm or disbelief. Once an episode would be too much, but he gets to do it about nine thousand times. The showrunners, in a fit of paranoia about their product, seem to think the audience will be sitting at home scoffing at every absurd event on screen, and so must have someone in the show echoing that eye-rolling. Though I will admit a plot involving rapidly-grown supersoldiers who have to eat pituitary glands to stop themselves ageing is ridiculous, but it's a sci fi show about mad science. I don't need someone on screen going, "Mad science?!?? Do you know how mad that is?" Plus, Joshua Jackson, who was just fine in that performance of A Life In The Theatre we once saw him in, is deeply annoying in this, and appears to have a weird fold in the middle of his forehead.


Did mad science put it there?!?!!?

Worst Stylistic Tic of the Week:

Canyon and I disagree on as many things as we agree on, and one of the first things we found we had a difference of opinion about was lens flares. I love them, mostly because they're old school and looked so good in Die Hard (why can't Jan De Bont swallow his pride and go back to excellent cinematography?), and she hates them because they distract the eye and remind you you're watching a movie or TV show. Much to my disgust, however, while nostalgic love of photographic stylistic choices is my cross to bear, no one should have to put up with the ridiculous CGI faux-flares in Fringe.



During the deeply unpleasant opener and the suspense-free finale, every action shot opened with an identical flare, sometimes mirrored but otherwise the same.



It didn't matter if there was no light source for it; it was just added. Why director Paul Edwards and producers JJ Abrams, Kurtzman and Orci thought this was anything other than a silly distraction is beyond me.



Real flares only! Don't accept the CGI kind.



Still, the finale did feature one stylistic choice I could totally get behind. While Josh Jackson did his flappy defribrillator shtick, and Anna Torv ran around in the dark with her gun out in front of her like the TV cops do, it kept cutting back to Walter eating popcorn and impassively explaining how to shock a dying woman back to life. Hilarious stuff. We love you, Walter Bishop!

Reaction of the Week:

Pete Campbell's glum expression when he realises Don Draper isn't going to invite him to his party was the funniest sight of the week.


We love not loving this little creep.

Disappointment of the Week:

There was no way that House M.D. was going to top last year's format shake-up, and I wasn't going to expect it, but even taking into account the fireworks of that excellent two-part season finale, this was still a flat episode. While still providing many laughs and much character drama (plus a rare admission of sorrow from House), as well as some top-notch work from Robert Sean Leonard, there was little to distinguish it from typical mid-season filler. Except, of course, Wilson's departure.


The final scene, with him telling House to basically go screw himself for beng a toxic asshole, was great, but I'm unable to feel good about it. Though there may be great dramatic opportunities opened up by House potentially becoming even more of a jerk without the corrective influence of Wilson around (nicely picked up by Foreman), our favourite moments of the show are the conversations between them. Without that, no matter what happens next, we're going to miss that.



Youthified Legend of the Week:

Attempting to capture the Doctor Who lightning in a bottle once more, the BBC has revisualised Le Morte D'Arthur and The Once and Future King in much the same way that Robin Hood was turned into a topical drama about the war on terror. Having not seen Hood I can't compare it to Merlin, but I can say that the new show is not a disaster, though any praise I'll throw its way will be extremely faint in nature.


Early impressions hinted that by presenting Merlin: The Teenage Years we would be getting a transparently Harry Potter style grab at the attentions of Brit children, and though it's a blatantly cynical move, it also seemed kinda logical. Why not capitalise on that? I'm almost jealous that someone else came up with the idea. What did surprise me was the similarities with Smallville and Gossip Girl, of all things. Just as Smallville starts with Clark Kent and Lex Luthor becoming friends, thus setting out the relationship arc between them, Merlin features the mirror version of that, with Merlin and Prince Arthur bickering at first sight, even though we know they will eventually become a partnership.


That snarky relationship is one of the most likeable things about it, with Colin Morgan and Bradley James keeping it pleasingly light. However, it kept reminding me of the fractious early relationship between Dan Humphrey and Nate Archibald in Gossip Girl. From that point on, I realised the show was going to spend as much time on exploring the dreary relationship combinations between Merlin, Arthur, Guinevere, and Morgana at the expense of the mystical aspects of the myth, which so far include Uther Pendragon (a grumpy Anthony Head) outlawing magic, and Merlin using what amounts to a lot of telekinesis. It's practically counting down the episdes until a saucy youngster called Lancelot turns up and complicates things even more (he will be played by Santiago Cabrera, formerly of Heroes).


Speaking of the myth, it's interesting that The O.C. and Gossip Girl appear to be templates for this, using the class difference between Merlin and Arthur as the basis of their antagonism. Of course, in the most famous renderings of the myth, Arthur is kept out of Uther's circle, and only becomes king when he pulls Excalibur from the stone. Here he is already a cocky young shaver, treating his servants badly and being a total dick. Luckily the change works, and I'm not about to get pissy about the alterations. It's so far removed from any classical renderings of the legend, especially with the colloquialisms and very modern cast diversity, that it would be churlish to see it as anything other than a frivolous and mildly diverting curio. I might not bother watching further, but I'm not repelled either. Plus, it's made me want to watch Excalibur again, even though that film is crazy nonsense.

Meltdown of the Week:

Progressing elegantly from Shaky Hands to avian genocide to the 19th nervous breakdown that probably inspired the Rolling Stones, Betty Draper went full-on Howard Beale at Don Draper, after practising on a chair.


Sadly the very entertaining crazy was handled by January Jones, an actress who still fails to convince us she can pull this kind of thing off.


It was especially frustrating as she did raise her game with her best opportunities yet, but was still blasted off the screen by show-best work from Elizabeth Moss and her life of empty "success", and Christina Hendricks, whose hypocritical embrace of career progression contrasted with Peggy's ennui. The scene with her dealing with the loss of that newly discovered world of responsibility and achievement should be her award clip next year.


Though it didn't feature raggedy hair and obsessive suit-sniffing. Score one for Jones.

Pleasing Visual of the Week:

As mentioned many times in the past, we love dragons, and for all its faults, at least Merlin features a dragon.


As voiced by John Hurt, and obviouslty hamstrung by budget, it's still better than some, but not as good as Vermithrax Pejorative. We're still impatiently waiting to see Temeraire on the big screen for a definitive dragon, PETER JACKSON!!!

Intensity of the Week:

Lance "Intensity" Reddick!


Yes, I'm going to bang this into the ground just like I did with Ray Wise and his awesome grin. Je ne regrette rien.

Biggest Shock of the Week:

There I am trying to relax with Merlin on iPlayer, and what happens?


Eve Myles aka Gwen from the hated Torchwood!?!?! No one warned me! I was taken utterly aback. Just to make things worse, a few seconds later there were two Gwens, as an evil old crone uses magic to impersonate her. Surely this is madness!


To be honest, without her usual Gwen-style histrionics, Eve Myles gave a fair performance, merely being a bit sinister at times while presenting a friendly face the rest of the time, all to get closer to Arthur so that she can kill him. I was almost disappointed, but thankfully, at the end we get to see her badly lip-synching to some Gaelic song in front of Uther and his courtiers, as well as waggling her arms in an approximation of a dance. The tears, they flowed down my face.


She even gets to go batshit murderous with a knife. Oh how I've missed her expressive face!


It's a shame she gets murderlised by Merlin using his own magic to crash something on her head, as weekly appearances by her would definitely keep me tuning in, but still, this little reminder of her peculiar talents was enough to make my day.

So, some underperforming new shows, a returning show that fails to live up to the previous episode, and some top 60s events to make up for all that. Brian Michael Bendoom, what did you think of this week in TV?


I can't argue with that.

The 2007-2008 Caruso Awards (The Bad)

First I hit you all up with the shiny side of my two-headed coin, compelling me to give up much love to those shows that made my heart soar this last year, but now that coin has landed on its nasty scarred side, and I am forced by my innate sense of cosmic balance to point my finger at those hours of TV that offended unto my very core. That pain, so crippling to me, must be expunged somehow, and this list is my preferred method of self-exorcism. Please indulge me while I carp.

10. Lost - Ji Yeon

It gives me zero pleasure to put an episode of Lost on this list, especially one that featured a wonderful and emotionally exhausting performance from Yunjin Kim, but there is no getting past the fact that the entire episode is based around a silly narrative trick employed merely to distract the audience enough to bring out a big shock at the end. Being well made and well acted is not enough, as rewatching this episode has shown how empty that flashback/forward trick is. While Lost has certainly messed around with the audience before, using our expectation against us as a judo wrestler uses the weight of the opponent against him/her, this episode was blatantly a big nothing wrapped in a trick bow. To add insult to injury, the other big shock of the episode was the reveal of Michael as the Kahana crewmember doing Ben's bidding. As Harold Perrineau's name had been in the credits all season without him appearing once, no one could possibly have been fooled.

9. Dexter - See-Through

There are many things that mystify us, but the critical and popular success of Dexter is high up on the list of most baffling events ever. Watching the second season has taken us almost a year, with each new episode annoying us so much we decide against watching any further and yet are forced to struggle on just to clear space on the Sky+ box. Sometimes all it takes to piss us off is the first couple of lines of each episode's voiceover, which removes all subtlety from the show and in its place gives us some cringeworthy psychological drivel that could only come from the mind of someone who has done nothing but read bad crime novels their whole life. No other "quality" cable show on TV has so little respect for the audience, drowning out all thought or interpretation with a barrage of exposition, moralising, and primary-school level philosophical meanderings. Dexter is perhaps the least mysterious and most predictable character on TV, which makes following his adventures utterly tiresome.

To make things worse, though we suspect that removing that redundant voiceover would significantly improve the show, even then it would still have some of the most unappealing characters on TV. Grumpy Doakes the Grumpy Grumpy Cop, the vile worm Masuka (whose dialogue is a series of variations on, "I'd buy that for a dollar!!!"), Dexter's relentlessly aggressive sister Debra, the hapless Secret-loving Angel, duplicious Rosie-Perez-voice-clone LaGuerta, Rita the constantly peeved girlfriend; I appreciate that there is much to be made of including unlikeable characters in a show (some of our favourites are littered with unpleasant people), but these aren't interesting character studies. They're just a bunch of annoying jerks, all of whom are as boring as sand. So why choose this episode? Because it introduced another show Gupta (Rita's horrible mom, a caricature of a meddling mother), and cemented our dislike of Dexter's Narcotics Anonymous sponsor Lila, a Manic Pixie Dream Girl with a criminal mind and an over-enunciation habit. I'll get to her soon, time permitting.

8. Heroes - Cautionary Tales

In other internet venues, SoC contributor Masticator has plowed a lonely furrow, arguing that the second season of Heroes, which had attracted so much vitriol, was about the same as the first season, quality-wise, if a little worse for not having a stand-out episode like Company Man, which featured highly in last year's Caruso Awards. While I've already railed against the show for having a very disappointing sophomore season, I'm not sure I articulated it fully. It can be summed up like this; all of the suspicions I had that the boldness of the storytelling masked a deeply stupid, derivative concept and some equally shaky execution were confirmed in the second season, which not only failed to deliver on the promise of the first season, but damaged it terribly by shooting off in different directions, none of which were particularly interesting, all the while doing very little to entertain (for a show about superheroes, no one did anything superheroic except for DL). The occasionally histrionic performances ran riot, characters died like punks for no apparent narrative or logical reason (RIP DL, the true hero!!!), allegiances changed over and over again (what the hell is Suresh thinking from scene to scene, let alone episode to episode?), and so much endless, formless, pointless dialogue poured from our TV that by the midpoint of the strike-truncated season I had completely lost the thread of what was going on.


I'm no dummy, but I honestly had no clue what was happening by the final few episodes. Motives were explained so sketchily that I felt like giving up on the whole thing numerous times. All of this is before we get to the other, well-trodden complaints about the season; Hiro's ridiculous Japanese adventures, the wasted new characters, the similarities between the big arcs of this season and last season, the Hoirish Ghangsturrs frrrrrom Cork don't yer know begorrah, and the inability of the showrunners to capitalise on the strengths of the cast (especially Adrian Pasdar, whose saltiness was a refreshing change from all of the portentous performances from everyone else). The badness was spread so thinly across the whole season that picking the worst episode is hard, so I've plumped for this one, partially because it was so memorably over the top (that over-director Greg Yaitanes again), but mostly because the gulf between the epic ambitions of the showrunners and the silly, undramatic, kinda ridiculous end product is made glaringly apparent here. It was a fun episode to watch, but it broke the show for us. Masticator may be right. The second season might not be that much worse than the first season. The problem is, as I said at the time, the first season hinted that, once it had found its footing, the show might have been brain-fodder as well as nerd-fodder. After this episode aired, I gave up that dream and figured it would be CSI: Miami with metahumans. Which is fun in its own right, but still a disappointment.

7. Doctor Who - Voyage Of The Damned

Thus far every season of the New Who has had a stinker at some point, an episode of depressing stupidity that taints the whole run. The latest season, number four, was mediocre at worst, with the Sontaran two-parter representing the season's nadir (unless you are Masticator and have an aversion to adorable little creatures made of fat). That was merely boring, a crime that is forgivable when Who usually has so much enjoyable energy to spare. However, Who season four merely dodged a bullet; there was a truly dreadful episode aired prior to that season, and it was watched by a huge portion of the British viewing public. Russell T Davies' Christmas special was an indulgent abomination, with the stunt-casting of the mysteriously popular Kylie, who killed every single one of her lines, being only one of a number of egregious failings. If the repeated angelic and messianic metaphors weren't enough to wreck the show, the hammy performances were. Guest actor Clive Swift got lucky, though. His teeth-grating and florid line-readings would have been the worst thing about the entire regrettable endeavour if RTD hadn't thought it a wizard idea to have the Queen running around Buckingham Palace in robe and slippers. It almost made me a Monarchist out of sympathy. The disastrous exercise in condescension was almost Torchwoodian in its dedication to barrel-scraping.

6. Chuck - Chuck Versus the Truth

The titling conceit on Chuck is that each week, faux-nerd Chuck is put in opposition to something. It's a semi-comedic method of naming the episode, as mannered as Seinfeld's simple The [Something] titles, or Friends' The One With [The Something]. This episode, which I again had stern words about earlier, was the only time in the first season Chuck went up against a concept, though sadly it wasn't the right one. Perhaps Chuck Vs. The Patience of the Audience would have been more accurate. Riddled with the usual uncertain performances, re-re-rehashed plots, poorly filmed action, and flat dialogue, this installment compounded those Chuckian standards with some egregious plot errors so glaring that the entire crew must have been asleep while filming to have not noticed it. If NBC's cancellation of Journeyman wasn't already galling enough, the renewal of this vapid atonal tripe is salt in the wound. Perhaps this is more entertaining than a broken TV, but surely only because Adam Baldwin is in it. Even with his talent involved, Chuck is an insult to pop culture itself.

5. Dirty Sexy Money - The Italian Banker

An expensive, major network show with a starry cast, lots of promotion, and a writing staff that included writers from Six Feet Under, Lost, and Veronica Mars, this should have been a home run, but alarms were ringing after the pilot ran on the spot for 42 minutes with no character, line of dialogue, or event generating enough energy to imprint itself on my memory. It didn't get any better. As my previous comments have shown, the writing was pitched at a mid-afternoon soap level, with only the production values and relentless winking of the actors to differentiate it from The Bold and the Beautiful. While Ugly Betty (when operating at full power) perfectly understands how to satirise trashy soap stylings while revelling in their excesses, Dirty Sexy Money didn't seem to have a handle on how to maintain a consistent tone. Switching from fluffy to dramatic with a grinding of narrative gears is bad enough, but there was nothing else going on to distract the viewer from this clumsiness. This episode was only marginally worse than all of the others, thanks to some startlingly bad dialogue, worn out plot threads from numerous other shows and films, and obsequious product placement for Bulgari, but the entire show was flawed from conception.

4. Ugly Betty - Giving Up The Ghost

Debate has raged between the contributors to this blog as to which Ugly Betty episode was the weakest. Masticator and Canyon have maintained that the Wicked advert called Something Wicked This Way Comes was the worst, and given that that despicable nonsense insulted Ray Bradbury with its name, I very seriously considered adding it to the list. However, the painful memories of Giving Up The Ghost are still raw, so I'll have to plump for it. Featuring the same kinds of broad caricature, feeble dialogue, scenery-chewing performances, cliche-strewn plots, and misunderstanding of tone as your average episode of Dirty Sexy Money (a crime considering Ugly Betty usually gets the tone spot-on), it also included a career-worst guest appearance by Eliza Dushku, and brought about the necessary but frustrating separation of Wilhelmina from the Mode offices. That, in turn, split Marc from Amanda, which meant the show suddenly felt like The Venture Brothers without Brock Samson, or 30 Rock without Jack Donaghy. In one fell swoop the episode killed the funny for weeks to come, crippling the show during the latter half of the season. All of these events were overturned eventually, but the ratio of good to bad episodes was in the negative from then on.

3. Bionic Woman - Sisterhood

Oh God, where to begin? I've bitched about many shows here that are often good but had a bad week, or shows that might have seemed promising upon conception but never really gelled once shooting began, or shows that couldn't back up their lofty ambitions, but Bionical Woman represents that rarity in the new Golden Age of TV; an out and out disaster from conception onwards. Nothing, and I mean nothing, about this show worked. The concept, hinting at modern self-awareness and littered with unconvincing tech-speak about such bleeding edge concepts as nanotechnology (ooooOOOOoooohhhh! So futuristical!), was still ridiculous in the way that only 70s sci fi TV can be, and all attempts to update the original show regularly misfired. With the sci fi hook malfunctioning, there was no hope for it anyway, but the poorly sketched mythology, miscasting, lacklustre action, and aversion to originality rendered it particularly dreadful. At its best the show was utterly boring. At its worst, however, it was an unmitigated and hilarious failure. This episode, featuring a regrettable guest appearance by Isaiah Washington, Katee Sackhoff chomping on drywall and furniture in a vague approximation of a tortured soul, and poor Michelle Ryan having to say, "Bring it on, bitch," was the worst example of the whole debacle, and a comedic masterpiece to boot. Highly recommended.

2. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation - Two and a Half Deaths

As a successful show progresses, it will either stagnate or become scared of stagnation. CSI, a show that could potentially run forever with careful changes of cast, has dabbled with gimmickry to keep fresh something that doesn't need to be fiddled with. Though some of those tricks have worked well (the Miniature Killer arc, William Friedkin directing an episode, Liev Schreiber's guest appearance), swapping writing teams with the Two and a Half Men showrunners (Lee Aronsohn and Chuck Lorre) is a contender for the worst decision ever made in TV history. What is usually a pretty slick and intelligent piece of TV was instantly transformed into a score-settling grab-bag of cliches, weak jokes, eye-rolling performances, and petty attacks on the writers' former employers on Roseanne and Grace Under Fire. To willfully allow your show, a successful, well-loved work that relies on atmosphere and character acting for its impact, to be hijacked by a couple of giggling twerps with chips on their shoulders and only a vague understanding of what makes CSI work better than any other procedural on TV, is an almost suicidal gesture, and a shocking fuck you aimed at the fanbase. My previous praise for the show still stands, but if anything is going to kill the show, it will be failure of nerve. Stay the course, CSI showrunners.

1. Torchwood - Something Borrowed

Regular readers will not be surprised by the presence of the ever-dire Torchwood, but as with Lost, I had a tough time deciding which episode should represent the show at the top of this list. Contenders included the season opener, with James Marsters failing to make the show's trademark shitty dialogue work, as well as the garbled and shouty finale, and of course Meat, the hilariously misguided animal rights allegory that featured such delights as Ianto's demented taser rampage, Owen's "MERCY KILLING!", and Captain Jack's unforgettable face of empathic pain.

In the end, the right choice had to be Something Borrowed, not just because it represented sci fi at its most fat-headed and amateurish, but because it aired straight after the only episodes in the history of the show that didn't totally suck space ass. Reset was a fun episode that showed a spark of life, and the two subsequent episodes, while not anywhere near perfect, exhibited a willingness to tinker with the format. Regrettably, in a flurry of poorly choreographed gunplay, misjudged humour, and rampant ineptitude, all of that effort was erased, and Something Borrowed returned the show to its default position of Stupidest Thing on TV Not Involving Fearne Cotton, Jimmy Carr, or Simon Cowell. Meat might have been unintentionally funnier, but this made me laugh and depressed me simultaneously. Quite a trick. It's the sort of TV that poisons the soul, dulls the mind, and craps on the heart, and yet it is enormously, unfeasibly successful and adored. Go figger.

I think I might be able to milk this award-giving shtick out a bit further. Hey, it's easier than thinking!

The 2007-2008 Caruso Awards (The Good)

Though it might seem perverse to be assessing the bests and worsts of a TV year when the new TV year is very much upon us (The Shield started last week, and Fox's big new hope, Fringe, starts tomorrow), weirdly enough we're actually doing this earlier than last year. It's hard to know where to put the cut-off dates, but now seems the right time to get on with this. There are going to be some omissions, such as Mad Men (we didn't think the first season had anything strong enough for inclusion, and the second season, though improved, is not yet over) and The Shield (we're a couple of seasons behind, but catching up fast). Also missing are mentions of Terminator: The Sarah Conicles (© Masticator and Masticatrix) and The Middleman, two shows I think I will end up loving but have not seen enough of to be sure (and believe me, the first fifteen minutes of the third episode of Middleman was so funny it almost got into the list anyway). I will also include a couple of two-parters, because they were just too perfect to be separated, and will regrettably be going over a lot of stuff I've covered before, but what can I say? When I'm enthusiastic about something, I have no off-switch.

Best episodes of the season:

10. Pushing Daisies - Sniff It Good

For a few weeks there, I was in two minds about sticking with Pushing Daisies. Maybe I would have been more forgiving of it if it hadn't been treated like God's own TV show by most critics before it had even aired, a blanket pre-judgement that grated because no one seemed willing to admit that for everything that was right with the show, there was something very wrong. At least, that's how it was at first. As the season progressed, it became clear that the critical consensus was swinging away from blanket praise to complaints that the tone was too sickly, and just to be contrary, we began to fall in love with it. As the show became more bittersweet (in counterpoint to the colours and romance) it blossomed, and this episode represented the high watermark. Not only did it introduce Paul Reuben's olfactory expert, it ended on a heartstopping rendition of Morning Has Broken by Ellen Greene playing over a hallucinatory animation sequence that still makes me choke up whenever I think about it.

9. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation - Goodbye and Good Luck

Coming after the two best seasons of this long-running show, the eighth was a disappointment, though one littered with the odd classic moment. This episode, chronicling the final case of CSI Sara Sidle, was the season highlight by a long chalk. Directed by star helmer Kenneth Fink (also responsible for the excellent finale, which detailed the last moments of CSI Warrick Brown), it featured the return of Sara's arch-enemy, the bad seed Hannah West, and brought their antagonism to a surprising and moving conclusion, just in time for Sara to leave the team in an attempt to save her damaged soul. Visually impressive (as I mentioned at the time), emotionally draining, and beautifully judged, it was the total opposite of the empty gore-fest that non-fans assume CSI to be. Even when not operating at maximum efficiency, surely this is one of the most underrated shows on TV right now.

8. Doctor Who - Forest of the Dead

The general consensus is that no matter how shaky Doctor Who can be, at least Steven Moffat will pop up at some point and save the day. So it was with the River Song two-parter, which was lauded pretty much before it aired. Another truism is that heightened anticipation will often lead to disappointment, and the first part, Silence in the Library, featured so many of the tricks Moffat had already used that this felt less than fresh, even with a spirited performance from Alex Kingston. Luckily for Nu-Whovians everywhere, the second part, Forest of the Dead, was a heartbreaking triumph. Though still reusing elements from previous Moffat scripts (especially The Doctor Dances), the emotional surge in the last five minutes dispelled any misgivings, mixing uplift and tragedy with enough enthusiasm that pointing out its flaws feels like mean-spirited carping.

7. Journeyman - Emily/Blowback

Journeyman was the little show that couldn't, no matter how much we had hoped it would. Damned as nothing more than a Quantum Leap rip-off, it struggled to attract the Heroes audience at exactly the moment that the Heroes audience decided it didn't want to watch an entire episode through, let alone hang around to see what was on afterwards, even if that meant missing out on something bold, complex, and thought-provoking. By this point in the show's run we had realised something special was happening, and this two-parter, exploring the disastrous consequences of Dan Vassar's actions, and the limitations of his power, was a perfect example of its uncompromising storytelling. With our temporally-challenged protagonist's liberal good intentions responsible for attracting the attention of a serial killer (played with sleazy menace by Raphael Sbarge), he is forced to contemplate the unthinkable in order to save his family. Kevin McKidd acted the hell out of that moral quandary, Juan Carlos Coto and Kevin Falls wrote the shit out of it, and all across the internet, people finally woke up to the brilliance of this show. Sadly, it was too late to save it from cancellation.

6. Battlestar Galactica - The Hub

Bouncing back from a sorely disappointing third season, Battlestar Galactica picked up a bit but was still not firing on all cylinders. While the plot seemed to be moving pieces into place with some actual honest-to-God events, of all things, many episodes were still tainted by unconvincing histrionics, variable performances, dreary subplots, and clumsy narrative conceits. The Hub featured none of these. With super-total-ace writer Jane Espenson focusing on Laura Roslin (one of the show's most compelling characters), all of the swish pyrotechnics and gung-ho action paled next to the season's most dramatic moment; Baltar's delirious confession of his role in the Caprican genocide, and Roslin's almost homicidal response. That Mary McDonnell is not the recipient of every award going for her pitch-perfect reaction is a crying shame. And then, to top it off, she tells Bill Adama she loves him. This is the show I once loved. Where the hell has it been?

5. The Venture Brothers - Tears of a Sea Cow

After a long wait, The Venture Brothers returned with a greater emphasis on continuity and drama, to such an extent that my enormous anticipation soon withered into confusion and annoyance. While Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer were still providing the gags, something seemed amiss. By the time we reached Dr. Quymn: Medicine Woman, the repeated focus on a depressed Monarch, the creepy Sgt. Hatred, and Dr. Mrs. The Monarch's efforts to cheer her husband up had robbed the show of so much of its energy that even that episode, which featured none of those characters, was still not hitting the bullseye. Luckily, Tears of a Sea Cow marked a huge return to form. With Dr. Venture and Brock Samson missing in action for the majority of the episode, the focus shifts to Hank, Dean, and Dermot on one side, and The Monarch's defiance of the Guild of Calamitous Intent on the other, and as they all accidentally come into conflict of the most half-hearted kind, the show got its mojo back.


Nothing much happens for 22 minutes, but the details are perfect. 21's immortality misunderstanding, H.E.L.Per's incessant drumbeat (running joke of the year), The Monarch's psychosexual obsession with Dr. Venture coming into full bloom; just those three moments would qualify it for the list, but the episode was filled to the brim with comedic gems. In the last few episodes of this reinvigorated season we were treated to the sight of Mark Twain and Oscar Wilde in a League of Extraordinary Gentlemen spoof, the return of Colonel Gentleman and his manboobs, the introduction of super-robot Ventronic, and a shocking two-part finale that featured death and retirement horror. Arguably, those moments were funnier or more dramatic, but Tears of a Sea Cow wins out for bringing the show back on track.

4. Friday Night Lights - Let's Get It On

As with many of these mini-posts, I've already gone on about this exemplary episode at length, so forgive me for going over old ground, but though this season didn't reach the heights of the first, it was by no means the disappointment that many felt it to be. The worrying plot threads were handled well, the stupid plot threads didn't hang around long, and the performances were as classy as ever. Though the series had many high points, including Riggins' speech to his former team-mates, Santiago's first game, and Tami's sister arriving to drive Coach insane, this episode featured the highest quota of genius moments, with special praise for Street's plunge from a boat and subsequent "baptism", and the sweet and funny Y Tu Mama Tambien scene at the end of the episode. No other show on TV treats adolescent confusion and pain with such seriousness of purpose, or respect for its characters and audience. Everyone who doesn't watch it is missing out on an incredible experience. Seriously.

3. The Office - Dinner Party

The Deposition, the episode that preceded this one, was excruciating enough, showing the relationship between Michael and Jan to be riven with distrust, mutual loathing, and flashes of inappropriate aggression, yet held together by desperation and fear of loneliness. The Dinner Party, set almost entirely in Michael and Jan's house, made The Deposition look like a traditional two-camera and laugh-track sitcom from the 70s. The vicious sniping between Michael and Jan was terrifying in its ruthlessness, made all the worse for happening in front of Jim, Pam, Andy and Angela (and, later, Dwight and his babysitter, played with deadpan skill by the wonderful Beth Grant). Director Paul Feig and writers Lee Eisenberg and Gene Stupnitsky delivered a masterpiece of sphincter-tightening discomfort that not only showed up the original BBC series (which I would have thought was an impossibility), but also anything that fraud Mike Leigh has done. It was the kind of format-busting experiment that proves that, when given enough legroom by the suits at the network, mainstream TV can transcend expectations and deliver devastating and uncompromising storytelling. And yes, I'm aware I'm saying that about a comedy.

2. House M.D. - House's Head / Wilson's Heart

Again, I've hyper-praised these two episodes, but allow me to indulge myself once again. As with the Journeyman two-parter, it's impossible to separate these two episodes, even though this time there is a distinct quality difference between the two. While the second half, with the team attempting to save the life of Amber the Cutthroat Bitch, was measured and quiet, the first part, with hallucinations and bus crashes, was big and flashy. It was a superb episode, but mostly despite the attention-seeking efforts of director Greg Yaitanes. That he has been nominated for an Emmy while Katie Jacobs, director of the second episode, was overlooked, is regrettable (on edit: turns out IMDb lists her as co-director on the first episode, but she gets no attention from the Emmy judges). Nevertheless, this season finale represented House at its best. Coming at the end of the most entertaining and thought-provoking season yet, it was the perfect capper, the best episode in the history of the show, and proved the doubters wrong; there is still life in that controversial static formula, especially when used by a showrunning team as bold as this one.

1. Lost - The Shape Of Things To Come

I have spent the months since the season four finale of my favourite show trying to decide which episode was the one I loved the most. Was it The Constant, which used the baffling premise of the show to create a love story that defied time and mortality? Or was it that amazing last episode, filled with more action and surprise than anything other show screened all year? Or was it the one that made me even more long-winded than usual? Just a week ago, I finally came to the conclusion that it had to be this episode, featuring time-travelling, cold-blooded murder, the triumphant return of Cerberus the Smoke Monster, and the best performance of the year. Screw it, the decade. Michael Emerson's command of the screen is already frightening, and this most shocking of episodes featured his greatest moment yet, a near-wordless breakdown followed by terrifying revenge as our anti-hero chooses to unleash unworldy terror upon his nemesis, even at the cost of losing his hold on the thing he holds most dear. There were countless other superb moments in this episode, but that was the most impressive five minutes of the year. Forgive my hyperbolism, but no other work of art or popular culture has moved and amazed me more than that "simple" bit of acting. I am simply in awe of the man, and the entire Lost team for ignoring the critics and getting us to this point at the deliberate pace they have. If the rest of the payoffs are even a fraction as powerful as those featured in this episode, it will all have been worth it.

Coming up! The ten worst episodes of the year (hint: one of the shows included rhymes with Fuck. Another one rhymes with Norchwood). I might even get into some other stuff. Let's see how this week goes.

End of Season Review - Doctor Who

Before I venture any further, let me get a few things straight. I don't think Doctor Who deserves to be dismissed as just a kid's show. I also don't think it's healthy that this is regularly the best British TV has to offer, though that's down to some sloppy habits among TV commissioning editors and writing teams in general. I don't think the show peaked with Genesis of the Daleks, and I don't think Torchwood should ever have been commissioned. I also don't think Russell T. Davies is the worst thing that ever happened to the show, don't think he's a hack, and don't hate him for bringing a sliver of LGBT content and naughtiness to mainstream teatime TV.


On the other hand, I do think Martha is the best companion since Leela, or maybe Turlough. I also think the season three finale was the best one yet, featuring some of the strongest performances and best written drama of the entire revamped show. I also think the show is much better now Billie Piper is not around, though I never went so far as to actually dislike her.


If you're one of one of those Whovians who would fit the description of "mosquito" that RTD makes here, you'll probably be disgusted by at least one of the statements above, so consider that a warning. Considering the poorly behaved fanboys on some of the talkbacks I've frequented over the last year or so, I'm keen to stay off their radar for fear of somehow being infected by their humourless and didactic worldview, especially those who whined about the non-regeneration in this episode, which ended up being a clever idea opening up some surprising story opportunities.


Right, now that's out of the way, time to wonk on about the fourth season, which was a disappointment after the highs of season three. RTD has stated he wanted to leave the show when it was on a high, but for this fanboy, he was a season too late (unless next year's specials are life-alteringly good). That's not to say I thought this season was bad, but last year we had Blink, the amazing Paul Cornell Family of Blood two-parter, and the finale (I won't apologise for loving all of it, and thinking The Master's decision not to regenerate just to spite The Doctor was the highpoint of the show so far). This year we had a less wonderful two-parter from new showrunner Moffat, and maybe RTD's Midnight, which was most notable for showing how a large budget can be unnecessary when you have a great idea to build from. Other than that, there was little to get excited about.


That said, it's still good TV, and the Beeb should be proud. Certainly the show has benefited greatly from some increased confidence from the show's directors, who, for the most part, have toned down the frenetic and garish excesses of the first couple of seasons (Euros Lyn, I'm pointing a wizened finger at you). While Who stars two actors who are not afraid to do what can only be described as ACT-ING! when given the chance, they've wisely dialled it back as much as possible this year. Most of the best moments this year were reflective, a sign that the Who team know they can do more with less.


Also great this year was Catherine Tate as Donna, who seems to have confounded expectation and won over most of the sceptics, me included. Her previous appearance in the 2006 Christmas special had not outraged me as much as I thought it would; by the end of the episode I had started to like her. Much the same thing happened this year. The thought of 13 episodes of her shtick was unappealing, and early trailers hinted that she was going to honk away ad nauseum, but it was not long before I had begun to enjoy the chemistry between her and Tennant (who has, yet again, been a marvel this year). Her lack of tolerance for The Doctor's usual dismissive line of bullshit was a breath of fresh air for the show. And by that, I don't mean, "Martha was shit because she loved The Doctor soooo much," because I don't hold to that opinion and Martha was so awesome she can even break the fourth wall. When has any other companion done that? Eh?


The casting of Tate confirmed for me the suspicion I've had for a while now, that the Who team are that rare thing in UK TV; a bunch of talented people who know what they are doing and actually give a shit about it. Whereas a lot of UK shows seem to have been made by people who consider it beneath them (this is not a provable fact, merely a hunch), Who showrunners seems to really care about the show, and care about making RTD proud. It's the jewel in BBC Drama's crown, and everyone working on it is determined to keep it that way. Though I was one of the doubters who thought that the appointment of Tate as companion was a populist move that would ruin the show, it was clear just a couple of episodes in that she was hired on the basis of the stories that could be told with her onboard, not to mention her ability (shared by Tennant) to swap between comedic and dramatic as if at the flick of a switch. Besides, if the showrunners were only interested in doing what they thought would be popular, they could just as easily have hired Amanda Burton, or Fearne Cotton, or (God help us) Lily Allen. They played it smart, and from now on I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. This does not extend to the Torchwood team, nor the actual Torchwood members, who refused to follow the example of Tosh and Owen and just die already.


And yet it was an underwhelming year despite that effort. I'm not going to attribute this to anything other than a dissipation of the energy that the team must have felt last year knowing that they had an international hit on their hands. RTD has done what I consider to be an excellent job on the show, but his control over the show, which often involves Whedon-like rewriting of episodes and total control over almost everything, has slipped a little, perhaps becoming a bit self-indulgent. The season finale packed in a lot of back-slapping references to episodes past, as well as wrapping up everything he had set in place, not to mention adding about fifteen dei ex machinis of varying credibility.


Fair enough, but the show was still going to carry on without him. Though Steven Moffat is hoping start afresh, it nevertheless felt like RTD had constructed the season more as a goodbye to himself than as his goodbye to the show. This also meant that, with lots of ground to cover, some plots were rattled through with undue haste. The much-bally-hooed return of Rozzzzze didn't work at all, with her presence insufficiently explained and her perfect arc ending (which was, shall we say, "borrowed" from Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy) revisited with a semi-happy ending that needed an hour of fantastical preparation, retconning, and merry contrivance to actually work. I don't really mind it that much, but I liked the way the Rose/Doctor relationship was left at the end of season two, so this felt a little like pandering, even though it did give Tennant a chance to emote brilliantly. Plus, returning to the same locale and acting things out differently was a nice touch.


Mind you, that downer season two ending couldn't really stand anymore, what with the fates of the other companions being even more tragic. If Rose remained Doctor-less and alone, being a companion would be the most awful thing that could happen to a person. One of the other highlights of the season (if you could call it that) was the horrible fate of Donna, every memory of her exploits removed prior to being returned to her miserable existence as a gobby temp with a narrow worldview and the worst mother ever. Though her fate had been signposted throughout the season (the daft alternate history episode hinted at it, as did the "We're not a couple" running joke that foresigned the DoctorDonna twinning and separation), it was still a wrench to see it happen. And if you think that's the worst thing that could happen, Martha is doomed to an even worse fate; working with Torchwood full-time, now with hapless Mickey around as well. I know, Martha, I feel like crying too!


As for the rest of the season, not much of it stood out, sadly. Though Masticator maintains that the Adipose were a grave error of judgement, I thought the first episode was a strong and entertaining start, lengthy and not very interesting scenes of window-washing peril notwithstanding. After that, though, the show got into a rather dreary groove. The Pompeii episode was notable for some impressive production values, plus Peter Capaldi and Phil Davis giving it some proper thespianic effort, but then we were stuck with the silly Ood and their detachable brains, the hopelessly overlong Sontaran two-parter that squandered Martha's return (a cardinal sin!), and then something about Agatha Christie being terrorised by a giant alien wasp, which is the sort of idea that must have been scratched onto the writer's bedside notepad in the middle of the night.


There was also the one where The Doctor got cloned, creating a young female version of himself who liked fighting. At the time I thought the not-that-great idea of a "daughter" flying around was done as well as it could be done, and that the twist at the end was nifty, but you know you're in trouble when the episode was ultimately so forgettable that I just had to look up which episode came after the Sontaran one.


None of them were bad, per se, but they were a bit dull, though enlivened by the committed performances of the leads. As I'm sure was the same with many fans, we had high hopes for the Steven Moffat two-parter, but the first part, though filled with clever detail, was sadly familiar. Screened after the announcement that Moffat was to become the showrunner in 2010, it was unfortunate that the first episode was littered with ideas cribbed from his previous episodes. The shuffling antagonist repeating a phrase (The Empty Child), the alien menace carefully adopted from a creepy and ubiquitous real-world thing for maximum scare-the-kids impact (shadows are piranhas, statues are Quantum Assassins), glitchy technological deus ex machina introduced early on in a way that makes it seem like a threat (nanobots in The Doctor Dances, the hard drive containing the survivors in The Forest of the Dead), the introduction of a significant supporting character who becomes attracted or drawn to the Doctor while never becoming a full companion (Captain Jack in The Empty Child, Madame de Pompadour in The Girl In The Fireplace, Sally Sparrow in Blink), etc. etc.


Though the first part showed more flair than any of the previous season four episodes, and though the Vashta Nerada were a great enemy, it still felt like a rehash of better episodes. Luckily, the conclusion was as strong as any Who episode yet, with Donna's incarceration in a virtual world leading to another unhappy ending for her, and The Doctor racing to store the memory of his future wife/companion/something inside the world computer in a bravura sequence that had me bawling. Thematically it was more confident than most, dealing as it did with memory and fate, though perhaps it could have tied theme and plot together a bit tighter, but who am I to carp (seriously, blogger vs. Moffat = FAIL on my part). Forest of the Dead was easily one of the highlights of this TV year, as will be reflected in our forthcoming Shades of Caruso Awards (basically, the Emmys, but good).


The following episode, Midnight, featured a monumentally creepy performance from Leslie Sharp, as well as a bleak message that felt like The Mist but with more parroted dialogue. It was a terrific, economical conceit, and well-played, but the thing I liked most about it is that it not only did it show The Doctor's estrangement from humanity (nicely foreshadowing the final moment of the season), it also upended his obnoxious belief in the wonderfulness of we hairless apes. In another internet venue, Masticator once explained his problem with RTD, which I will quote here, if he doesn't mind:

RTD-penned episodes, while perfectly well written, almost always include some kind of moralising bollocks about duty or family or how BRILLIANT humans are or something. It's not that it's a bad choice necessarily, but it smacks of trying too hard to make the show Important and Memorable and For The Ages and suchlike, whereas what it often makes it is No Fun.

I'd like to think my co-blogger will have been happy seeing RTD taking a torch to that concept. Oh, and in case you're wondering, he then said:

And fucking Voyage Of The Damned was very nearly inexcusable, especially as it had seemingly been written as a vehicle for Kylie. Kylie!

Amen, brother.


That was the start of a four-episode run by RTD, the last three comprising that homage to himself mentioned earlier. The follow-up to Midnight, featuring a alternate history revolving around Donna, was almost another highpoint, though undone by the time-altering space beetle effect. As much of Who looks very professional this practical effect stood out as glaringly as the papier-mâché monsters of olden days, and though I'd like to think I can look beyond surface flaws and appreciate the show for its ideas, I have to draw the line at a big plastic beetle, especially when the episode ended up being as drab (and illogical) as it was. Or maybe I just wasn't that excited to see Rose back. For her legions of adoring fans, I'm sure she made up for the deadly alien/novelty rucksack Donna was wearing.


The return of Rose and her surplus teefs was part of RTD's effort to bring back pretty much every supporting character who had spent a lot of time with The Doctor, and it was fun to see them all (he even managed to make Ianto funny, which bodes well, considering he will be scripting some Torchwood in the future), but no one really got to do much. I gather viewers outside the UK were not bothered about the return of Davros, but it's a big deal for Whovians. The blind, paraplegic, alien Hitler was good value for money, though, with a nutzoid plan (destroy everything ever), rampant monologing delivered at a decibel level dangerous to human ears, and the temerity to accuse The Doctor (or rather his peeved human clone) of genocide. Dude, you were just going to obliterate reality itself! I think that, on a scale of naughtiness, Davros and his clone-cronies are a mite worse. Still, even though he is now supposedly dead, he was around long enough to treat us to this fantastic moment.


Unfortunately, he has been betrayed by Dalek (James) Caan, a Dalek even more berzonkers than that spats-wearing freak Dalek (Triple) Sec. Though I was sick to death of the sight of Daleks by the time Dalek Caan delivered his treacherous smackdown of his former boss, I did appreciate that RTD was willing to portray his favourite villains as occasionally self-loathing individuals instead of just hive-mind space Nazis. That said, they're gone, right? Does this final fate of them really count as a really really proper real final fate for realsies? Steven Moffat says so, so fingers crossed. Because seriously, when you've been given a final judgement on your superevil philosophy by a Dalek wearing his balls on his head, you have been definitively served.


Concerns about the treatment of the Daleks and the companions all fade when considering the best scene in the episode, and possibly the season full-stop/period. After saving Donna's life by wiping her mind clean and returning her to her miserable suburban drudgery, The Doctor explained the situation to her odious mother Sylvia and adorable grandfather Wilfrid (Jacqueline King and Bernard Cribbins), and the mess of emotions coming at the end of an already grueling finale finally got to me. The flash of anger that The Doctor aimed at Sylvia and her oblivious and arrogant hostility was so perfectly judged I wanted to write a letter to David Tennant with love hearts all over it.


This was followed by a scene I watched through a veil of tears, as The Doctor and Wilfrid eulogised the Donna that could never be again, and Wilfrid promised to keep an eye out for the Tardis. It was just a teensy bit moving. ::choke::


So what next? Christmas specials, a new showrunner, possibly a new Doctor (please God not The Nesbitt). All I know is that right now I'll just have to cherish the tenure of Tennant in the lead role. It's considered so gauche to seriously praise someone who is beloved by the masses without making some kind of mealy-mouthed justification, but screw that. He is a marvel. The final shot, with The Doctor alone and pondering the seemingly endless fallout from The Time War, was perfect.


You'd better believe I'm going to get tickets to see his Hamlet.