No, not McDonald's.
Dear god, NO.
Not McDonald's.
[shudder]
Now that the fall premiere season is finally over and all the new shows have had a couple of weeks to dazzle me (or as was so often the case, completely underwhelm and disappoint me), it's high time I made official proclamations of the hits and misses (mostly misses).
This was a particularly odd fall slate this year. Fall 2010 offered up probably the most new pilots I've ever seen for one development cycle, and yet, had probably the least number of winners I've come across in ages. Long gone are the years where I simply had too many spectacular new shows to choose from, it seems. What's worse, of the few great new shows to premiere this fall, my favorite among them has already been canceled. So long, Lone Star. The dreary confines of network programming and the lowest common denominator of mass appeal had you pegged before you even started. Boo.
A few new shows did manage to rise above the dreck and the threat of cancellation (at least for now) and join the my returning favorites in my exalted first tier.
Here are the shows I'm loving the most at the moment, both new and old (note the truly sad brevity of the list):
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES
Never has a show that started off so poorly become so very awesome. The first several episodes of the first season are a bit of a slog, to put it mildly. Each one was better than the last, but it honestly took till about episode 8 before I felt invested in this show and till episode 11 before I started saving them on my DVR for repeat viewings. After the halfway point, it just kept getting better and better. It has the most insane pacing of any show on TV. They cover more ground in one episode than most shows so in a dozen. I keep thinking they're going to run out of room to roam, but I'm continually amazed at just how many different paths they can take. I was going to write about the season 2 premiere because is was insane, but there was just simply too much to talk about. Everyone was afraid that they couldn't keep up with season 1, but they absolutely have. This show hasn't gone soft, it doesn't pull any punches, and it still manages to throw in enough twists and surprises that I'm constantly on my toes. I believe it was right around the time the Damon snapped Jeremy's neck in the premiere that I knew we were in for one hell of a season. Poor Damon. Oh my god, the premiere was just heartbreaking. I understand why Elena is mad at Damon on an intellectual level, but on a more visceral level, snapping Jeremy's neck just seemed... like a good idea to me... right? Hats off to Nina Dobrev though for pulling double duty in the Damon-heartbreak department and knocking both roles out of the park. I think I like her best as Katherine, where she changes up her mannerisms and tone to rise to the appropriate level of sadism. The bigger the hair, the closer to evil, as it were. Even the werewolf angle has been way better than I thought it was going to be. The show tends to align itself more closely with classic definitions of the supernatural and that really appeals to me. Sure there's a lot of magic going around that undoes some of the restrictions, but the basis is true to past form. And, with the latest revelation that Katherine and Mason are in cahoots (!), things look to be getting even crazier from here (as you can see, I started this post a few weeks ago and only just now finished it... pretend it three weeks ago... annnnd, go!). Seriously, this last episode? The brothers Salvatore were almost tortured to death after being outed to the sheriff, Caroline was revealed to her mother as a vamp, the truth about how one becomes a werewolf was revealed, two police officers were murdered, and Katherine's manipulation of Mason was exposed, among other things. For any other show, that would be the season finale or at least the winter finale. For Vampire Diaries? That was just your standard Thursday. Episode five, I think. Awesome. It also doesn't hurt that the entire cast looks like they do... (please see visual aid above).
NIKITA
Who'd have ever guessed that the CW would be the network that would bring me the best night of television on the air these days? Thursdays have suddenly become my favorite night on television again (a feat not accomplished since the Friends/ER era in the late 90s--you know, back when NBC actually had programming... and viewers). This show is kind of a conundrum, but somehow it works. There are more than a few ridiculous elements of this show, but I'm loving it all the same. Seriously, some of Division's standard operating procedures are just absurd, but I find that I'm enjoying the ride enough that I'm willing to let a lot slide. Case in point? Boy, Alex sure spends a lot of time in that computer lab communicating with Division's enemy number one and no one seems to notice... Really? This group, which touts itself as being the be all and end all of espionage, with a tech wizard who, for all intents and purposes, may as well be an actual wizard, doesn't keep track of what the kids are doing online? Seriously? Fortunately, that's really beside the point. It's ridiculous, but the show has a lot that makes up for its shortcomings. It's strange. The conceit totally shouldn't work, but somehow it does. This show has set itself up in such a way that our lead has almost no direct contact with anyone else on the show. Now, don't get me wrong, this has tied the writers hands in some ways, but they always seem to find a way around this particular obstacle. I find myself genuinely concerned for what's going on and eager to see how it plays out. The show kind of sneaks up on me. I don't realize just how invested I am until I notice that I'm on the edge of my seat. It's not a perfect show by any means, but it has proven to be a solid spy thriller. I have heard that in an attempt to improve their key demo numbers the show will undergo some "tweaking," which has me a little nervous, but I'm hopeful that they'll use this as an opportunity to fix some of the key problems with the show. I have a sinking feeling they might turn it into a maudlin love story, but from what I've seen so far, they can make even the most implausible storylines manageable and exciting.
THE GOOD WIFE
Oh my god, this show just keeps getting better and better. I'd say it's probably the best drama on air. Certainly the best drama on network programming and I'm not the only one who thinks so. It does well enough in the ratings department, but for CBS's standards, it could be better. I honestly don't know why it isn't more of a smash runaway hit. I have to assume that people have the gross misconception that this is a show for middle-aged housewives and that it simply isn't their kind of show. Well, I have news for you, this show is NOT a sappy Lifetime: Television for Women soap opera. At first blush, I thought that might be a pitfall it would get sucked into, but fortunately, I couldn't have been more wrong. Above all, this show is smart. I never feel like I'm being talked down to or spoonfed. This show doesn't reduce itself to the obvious, the simple, or the convenient. Even the most seemingly irrelevant of details had a juicy, twisty angle to it. Everyone has motives (whether they're political, professional, sexual, or as it so often the case, all three) and they manipulate their surroundings in a bid for control. The entire cast is superb and manages to juggle the tangled web that's all around them. Julianna Marguiles is second to none, but with a cast this amazing, it's a close race. The love triangle among Alicia, Peter, and Will just keeps getting better and better, but in a very different way than others shows would have it play out. It's all very adult, and I mean that in the best possible way. This show spares viewers from having to watch people whine about their emotions or act like junior high school students when it comes to adult relationships (Dear Parenthood, you could learn a thing or 17 from this show.) It's cool and usually restrained, and somehow, that makes the tension even greater and the payoffs even more satisfying. Oh my god, was anyone not screaming at their TVs when Eli Gold deleted Will's voicemail from Alicia's phone?! Ahhh! Awesome. Oh man, and that scene in the parking garage between Kalinda and Blake?! Sexy, violent, and spectacular. This show is cerebral and sinister and exciting and any viewer from any demographic would do him/herself a favor by giving it a shot. This is not a chick show, although I can't tell you how refreshing it is to see superb female characters that aren't just stereotypes for male characters to play off of. This show is just a great drama. Plain and simple.
TERRIERS
I already sang this show's praises in my last post, so I'll keep this short. This really is the best little show that no one seems to be watching and I really think it's because people don't know that it exists. What other explanation could there be? This show has a hell of a lot to offer and is deserving of a huge audience. It's funny and dark and extremely well-written. I doubt it'll be back for a second season, but I'm going to enjoy every minute while I can (minutes that truly seem to fly by). It has sucked me in in a way I never would have expected and I hope to hell FX realizes their own idiocy in scheduling and finds a way to give this show its due. Highly recommended.
CASTLE
Episode for episode, this is the most carefree, fun-filled romp on air. This show is incredibly easy to watch, but it isn't without real substance. It definitely errs on the side of light, but certainly has it's harder elements as well. I'm not usually one for crime procedurals, but the writers for Castle (as well as the characters/actors) just seem to be having so much fun doing their jobs that I can't help but to have fun too. Even the A-plots are engaging. In a way, they kind of remind me of Life. They're off-beat and quirky and always manage to suck me in. The show understands that at its core, its a show about fiction, and that's where it really shines. It's like taking someone to a place you love, but somewhere they've never been before. You have fun watching them experience that place for the first time. Watching our good friend Nathan Fillion geek out over crazy cases is just a pure delight. If the A-plots weren't good enough, the ongoing storylines and character dynamics are surprisingly warm and satisfying. Even the will-they-or-won't-they relationship between Castle and Beckett has retained its crackle and doesn't feel overdone. The writers did a brilliant job of shifting gears between the pair and it has managed to keep the interplay fresh and fun. The show could have gone ages with one member of the pairing (usually the man) pining for the other, but Castle turned things around last season in a surprising way. When it all boiled down, Castle moved past his crush and Beckett acknowledged her own. It made for a nice twist that is still having repercussions for the two of them. There's a genuine affection between the pair and I'm in no hurry to see them hook up. The show has fostered a dynamic between the two that is so warm and playful that you love seeing the two together, but you're not dying for them to be lovers. It's a difficult line to walk, but they're doing it very well. This is far and away one of the most effortless shows to watch, and when stacked up against my heavy-hitters, it makes for a lovely palate cleanser. The one-liners alone are enough to keep me coming back for more. Oh, and the incredibly rare, yet delightful characterization of Castle's daughter. What's that you say? Not all teenage girls are horrendous bitches? Why no, no they're not.
BOARDWALK EMPIRE
This show is kind of hard to sum up. The pilot was beautiful and impressive and solidly done, but I honestly didn't know if the whole gangster thing would be enough to keep me coming back for more. In general, the mob and kingpins and whatnot aren't really topics that grab me. Along with that, this show has similarly sobering (heh) tangential storylines which make for a fairly heavy drama to follow. As it turns out, I'm loving it all. It's pretty dark, but it's not without it moments of levity. The show is incredibly well-crafted and the world of 1920s Atlantic City feels completely authentic. At first, it did more to impress than immerse, but now, it just feels thoroughly organic to the story and you don't even really notice the little details--which as far as I'm concerned, is a testament to how well done it is. You wouldn't notice a lamp or a rug on any other show, so while I appreciate how beautiful each scene is, I'm more enthralled by the story than the set design. I think the fact that HBO doesn't have commercials has a lot to do with my enjoyment of this show. I never watch commercials, but even simply fast-forwarding through them tends to break up a narrative. Indeed, most shows have to organize their pacing around half a dozen breaks. With Boardwalk Empire, it just flows smoothly and I get swept up in it. For being such a serious drama, it moves along at a surprising clip and never feels labored. I don't know if you remember a show called Kings, but that was a show that got crushed under its own seriousness. Boardwalk Empire does not. There's enough ribaldry and insanity going on to underscore the often grave tone. I'm always a little surprised and even a little sad when an episode ends. It really has a lot more going on than just gangster stuff and that helps put everything into focus for me. The gangster elements provide a context, but it's the characters who make the story. The beyond peculiar courtship between Nucky and Margaret developed in the context of prohibition and corruption, not in spite of it. Speaking of which, the manipulations and mindgames between them have been unduly engaging. You don't generally think of Steve Buscemi (sp?) as a romantic lead, but in this particular setting and with this particular character, he makes for a hell of a rake. This show is dark and twisty and I'm totally loving it. Best of all, it's on HBO, so even though it has a niche audience, there's no threat of it being canceled. Indeed, after only the pilot, HBO greenlit a second season. [insert all-too-rare sigh of relief]
Honorable Mention:
HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER
I'm as shocked as you are. No, seriously. After an entire season of complete and total letdown, this show seems to have regained a lot of its former luster. I never knew how much I missed you! The episodes of this new season have been fun and light and most of all, in line with who these characters really are. I spent all of last season being unbelievably annoyed with everyone on the show because no one was doing anything that even kind of made sense for their characters. Robin was a controlling, pathetic bitch, Barney was a cartoon character, Ted was... even more annoying than usual, and Lily and Marshall just needed to stop. Everything. This season? I'm remembering why I love this show and these people. Breaking up Robin and Barney was probably the best thing that ever happened to the show. I'm actually enjoying seeing them onscreen together again. They play off one another so well when they're not a couple. Ted's annoyance level has diminished considerably, and Lily and Marshall, in spite of an unfortunate desire for children, are charming again. Now all we need is to meet the effing mother already (or geez, even a potential mother would be a step up) and I think this show might just have redeemed itself. Here's hoping the sparkling Jennifer Morrison either is the mother, or at the very least, leads us to her. Her talents and charm were so wasted on House for so long that it's very nice to see her back in a role that isn't a total disaster. Welcome back, Jennifer. And welcome back, Show. You were missed.
So there you have it. The sadly short list of shows I'm really loving right now. Don't get me wrong, there are many other shows that I enjoy, but more and more, shows like Chuck and Glee just don't have me chomping at the bit like they used to... more on in a future post.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Terriers: The Best Show No One is Watching
Whenever I get my questions to TV pundits published on their blogs, I tend to geek out a bit. Even though I totally realize that no one cares about such things but me, poor Annie still has to listen me to giddily account how I wrote an email... an then sent it! It's scintillating stuff, let me tell you. I was going to restrain myself from nerdily posting the fruits of my total lack of labor here, but it actually gives me a chance to talk about a show that I accidentally fell in love with: Terriers. My darling Matt Roush posted my concerns about the show's ratings in his column today. If you don't already follow him, I'd highly recommend it. Here is a link to his latest "Ask Matt" column and he's also available on twitter. We have had differences of opinion on occasion in the past, but by and large, he's one of the names I trust most. He has turned me on to several excellent shows in the past. Anyway...
Annnnd, I'm back. Sorry about that. As you can see from my query above, I basically stumbled onto this little gem by accident. That's why I never wrote a review of the pilot. I never had any intention of actually watching the show, so I figured it would be one of the calculated omissions from my fall reviews. Yeah, that was stupid. In a fall pilot slate that ultimately had very little to offer, Terriers stands out as one of the best new shows on TV. Aside from the already-canceled Lone Star, HBO's Boardwalk Empire, and awesomely ridiculous Nikita, I dare say it's the only other new show to warrant a spot in my top tier, nay, a spot on any tier at all. (Seriously people, this fall was sad.)
Well, it's high-time I atoned for past televisual sins and gave Terriers its due--even if it is likely to be canceled. I'm more than a little bewildered at FX's programming strategy with this one. To debut a new show on cable alongside the swell of network crap in September seems completely illogical to me. To boot, it isn't really paired with a more established show nor did it receive much fanfare. Sigh.
Terriers is the kind of show that doesn't sound very good on paper, but that comes together beautifully. At first glance, I suspected it would be your typical procedural, but with a dash of quirky thrown in for good measure. This show is so very much more than that. The pilot was everything you'd ever want in a show and somehow things just keep getting better episode to episode.
The show follows two best friends who, after a few errant left turns in life, ended up working as freelance detectives. It sounds completely hokey on paper, but believe me, it works. Donal Logue (ER, Life) stars as ex-cop/reformed alcoholic Hank Dolworth and his best friend Britt Pollack, a former thief, played by Michael Raymond-James (best known for playing psycho serial killer Rene on True Blood). After playing a character so spectacularly creep-tastic as Rene, it's nice to see him in a role that's incredibly likable. Hank and Britt are the center of the show and play off each other in a very natural, believable way. They have great onscreen chemistry and make for a convincing pair of best friends/screw-ups/rough-and-tumble detectives.
Based on the concept alone, I assumed this would be your standard genre show with a slight Psych bent to it, but that's really not how it operates. There are certain elements that smack of a procedural, but rather than this being a show about detectives who happen to be people, it's actually a show about people who happen to be detectives. In this sense, it reminds me of Nurse Jackie. Sure, she works in a hospital, but Nurse Jackie certainly isn't a medical show. It's a dark comedy about actual characters, not just the job they do. The same goes for Terriers, a similarly brilliant show that blends harsh reality with a hell of a lot of charm and humor. Donal Logue's comedic timing is perfect and he makes every scene something more interesting and surprising than you'd expect. The comedy in this show can be subtle at times, so you have to pay attention, but for those in the audience who are, this show has a number of hilarious moments. The show doesn't feel the need to force the laugh, so it all comes off as genuine and funny.
At its core, Terriers is really a character piece. Even when the show has case-of-the-week type elements, they always relate to the characters themselves in a meaningful way. This could be painfully ham-fisted in the wrong hands, but here it works naturally. It's impressive and strange how the writers pull it off every week, but some seriously crazy things happen in a very grounded manner. This show seems more authentic than most out there, but at the same time has A-plots that are outlandish and peculiar. The fact that the A-plots are unique and that they relate to the characters in substantive ways makes me actually invest in them, which for me in quite rare. I find myself genuinely interested in the happenings of their detective work and never casually fast-forward through the A-plot. Indeed, this is the kind of show where the ending sneaks up on you. Seriously, I get so immersed in what's going on that when the end credits start, I'm always like, "Wait, it's over already?"
I think my favorite part of the show is the interpersonal dynamics between characters. Hank and Britt are solid bases for the show, but the supporting cast is what brings it all together. Hank's ex-wife Gretchen and their lawyer Maggie are completely delightful, even if their roles thus far have been fairly limited on the show. The real shining star of the supporting cast is Laura Allen, who plays Britt's girlfriend Katie. The interplay between Britt and Katie is funny and charming and, unlike so many relationships on TV, it doesn't annoy the hell out of me. So often the girlfriend in this kind of relationship is a whiny, bitchy, nagging drain on a show, but here? It's completely the opposite. Not only does this relationship have a firm grasp on reality, but the interplay between the pair is smart and endearing. Upon finding out that Britt asked her out after he had seen a picture of her on her refrigerator (he had broken into her house during his thief days, you see), I fully expected Katie to explode and some major melodrama to unfold. Instead, in a wealth of twists and surprises offered by the show, Katie instead tells Britt to go outside, wait five minutes, and then break into the bedroom through the window. Where lesser shows would use this as a platform for a bunch of screaming, Terriers sees it as a total turn-on. Heh. Awesome. The refreshingly intelligent characterizations of women doesn't stop with Katie. As mentioned, Gretchen and Maggie have slightly smaller roles on the show, but they're equally engaging and multi-dimensional. Hank and Gretchen are ex-spouses, but there's still a lot of love and respect between them. The show takes the road less traveled and avoids the omnipresent "evil ex" cliches and even makes the possibility of the pair reuniting more complicated than expected. Gretchen's new beau is actually quite a good guy who tells a white lie to Gretchen in order to protect Hank. Most recent addition to the cast (as a recurring character rather than regular), is Karina Logue (Donal's real life sister) who plays, conveniently enough, his quirky, dark, slightly mentally ill sister on the show. She's brilliant and broken and in the world of Terriers, the fact that she secretly lives in her brother's attic just makes good sense. She isn't a series regular, but I do hope she'll stick around for a good long while.
All in all, I'm rooting for these characters in a way I simply don't for most other characters on air at the moment. The fact that this show is actually a serial masquerading as a pseudo-procedural is a big part of that. When I truly care about the people in a show, I care about what happens to them, even if it's a one-off A-plot. Even better, the A-plots are meaningful, but not in a heavy-handed after-school special kind of way that Grey's Anatomy does. We just see how these characters would react to the given situation in an authentic way. Nice. With this kind of set up, though, the writers have to try a lot harder to craft characters that really work. Fortunately, Terriers succeeds in spades. This show makes for an odd mix of mystery, drama, comedy, and dollops of just about everything else. You'd think it would be all over the place, but it's surprisingly balanced and never feels sloppy or uneven. I didn't realize just how invested I was in these characters until a truly heartbreaking scene between Katie and Hank where she confesses to screwing up and being afraid to tell Britt. I truly felt for her and found myself hoping Hank would succeed in convincing her to never tell Britt what happened. Hank couldn't bear the thought of devastating Britt, and quite frankly, neither could I. That's when I consciously realized just how much I've been enjoying this show and began to fear for its future.
As mentioned, the ratings are not good. Terrible, in fact. But the show has received nothing but praise from critics (as far as I know) and has been getting more and more buzz online lately. I'm cautiously optimistic that FX will see the potential here and give Terriers some time to build an audience. They really should have premiered this show in the summer or during one of the off-seasons when it would have had less competition and more of a chance to attract some viewers.
I don't know if Terriers will be around for more than a season, but it's definitely worth even a precarious investment.
Show Grade: A
- Question: In a near-accidental turn of events, I started watching FX's new series Terriers amid the glut of fall premieres, and much to my surprise, the show grabbed me almost instantly. The pilot was sharp and witty and smoothly plays against all the TV clichés I've grown to hate over the years. I watch a lot of TV, so when I come across a show that surprises me, I sit up and take notice. I expected a typical crime procedural, but instead was met with a solid, engaging and hilarious serialized character piece. Not since I just happened to catch Nurse Jackie and stumbled onto Justified have I been so delighted by an accidental find. The suspense and mystery are brilliantly underlined by a dark humor that really appeals to me.
That said, I'm concerned for the future of Terriers. I've recently seen Terriers listed alongside various shows with anemic ratings (mostly of the "Vote to Save a Show" variety) and have become concerned. How has Terriers been doing? Do you think it will survive? I'm also curious as to what you think of "Save a Show" style polls. Do they ever have any real effect? I seriously doubt it, but I find myself voting regardless. In a fall pilot season that left me largely unimpressed, I'd hate to see Terriers go the way of Lone Star (the best broadcast pilot of the year and sadly the first to get the axe). I'm sure that Terriers has a better chance given its network, but even FX must have a ratings threshold to maintain.
— Lacy
Matt Roush: I don't know the exact numbers, but I do know they're below what FX would like them to be, and it's disappointing to the network and the studio. The show is so offbeat in tone and texture, and is done no favor by its too-quirky title, that it probably would have been a slow build even if it hadn't been scheduled against the fall network onslaught. But the reviews have mostly been rapturous, and the show has just gotten better as it goes. I love the fact that no two episodes are quite alike, and the blend of mystery and comedy and palpable emotion is unlike anything else currently on TV. But as we've seen (and as you noted with the Lone Star debacle), being too different and resistant to pigeonholing can work against a show's commercial prospects. I hope FX sticks with this, but you're probably right to be concerned. As for save-the-show polls, it can't hurt to participate and make your voice heard. But such efforts rarely budge the numbers the programmers are looking at to determine a show's future.
Annnnd, I'm back. Sorry about that. As you can see from my query above, I basically stumbled onto this little gem by accident. That's why I never wrote a review of the pilot. I never had any intention of actually watching the show, so I figured it would be one of the calculated omissions from my fall reviews. Yeah, that was stupid. In a fall pilot slate that ultimately had very little to offer, Terriers stands out as one of the best new shows on TV. Aside from the already-canceled Lone Star, HBO's Boardwalk Empire, and awesomely ridiculous Nikita, I dare say it's the only other new show to warrant a spot in my top tier, nay, a spot on any tier at all. (Seriously people, this fall was sad.)
Well, it's high-time I atoned for past televisual sins and gave Terriers its due--even if it is likely to be canceled. I'm more than a little bewildered at FX's programming strategy with this one. To debut a new show on cable alongside the swell of network crap in September seems completely illogical to me. To boot, it isn't really paired with a more established show nor did it receive much fanfare. Sigh.
Terriers is the kind of show that doesn't sound very good on paper, but that comes together beautifully. At first glance, I suspected it would be your typical procedural, but with a dash of quirky thrown in for good measure. This show is so very much more than that. The pilot was everything you'd ever want in a show and somehow things just keep getting better episode to episode.
The show follows two best friends who, after a few errant left turns in life, ended up working as freelance detectives. It sounds completely hokey on paper, but believe me, it works. Donal Logue (ER, Life) stars as ex-cop/reformed alcoholic Hank Dolworth and his best friend Britt Pollack, a former thief, played by Michael Raymond-James (best known for playing psycho serial killer Rene on True Blood). After playing a character so spectacularly creep-tastic as Rene, it's nice to see him in a role that's incredibly likable. Hank and Britt are the center of the show and play off each other in a very natural, believable way. They have great onscreen chemistry and make for a convincing pair of best friends/screw-ups/rough-and-tumble detectives.
Based on the concept alone, I assumed this would be your standard genre show with a slight Psych bent to it, but that's really not how it operates. There are certain elements that smack of a procedural, but rather than this being a show about detectives who happen to be people, it's actually a show about people who happen to be detectives. In this sense, it reminds me of Nurse Jackie. Sure, she works in a hospital, but Nurse Jackie certainly isn't a medical show. It's a dark comedy about actual characters, not just the job they do. The same goes for Terriers, a similarly brilliant show that blends harsh reality with a hell of a lot of charm and humor. Donal Logue's comedic timing is perfect and he makes every scene something more interesting and surprising than you'd expect. The comedy in this show can be subtle at times, so you have to pay attention, but for those in the audience who are, this show has a number of hilarious moments. The show doesn't feel the need to force the laugh, so it all comes off as genuine and funny.
At its core, Terriers is really a character piece. Even when the show has case-of-the-week type elements, they always relate to the characters themselves in a meaningful way. This could be painfully ham-fisted in the wrong hands, but here it works naturally. It's impressive and strange how the writers pull it off every week, but some seriously crazy things happen in a very grounded manner. This show seems more authentic than most out there, but at the same time has A-plots that are outlandish and peculiar. The fact that the A-plots are unique and that they relate to the characters in substantive ways makes me actually invest in them, which for me in quite rare. I find myself genuinely interested in the happenings of their detective work and never casually fast-forward through the A-plot. Indeed, this is the kind of show where the ending sneaks up on you. Seriously, I get so immersed in what's going on that when the end credits start, I'm always like, "Wait, it's over already?"
I think my favorite part of the show is the interpersonal dynamics between characters. Hank and Britt are solid bases for the show, but the supporting cast is what brings it all together. Hank's ex-wife Gretchen and their lawyer Maggie are completely delightful, even if their roles thus far have been fairly limited on the show. The real shining star of the supporting cast is Laura Allen, who plays Britt's girlfriend Katie. The interplay between Britt and Katie is funny and charming and, unlike so many relationships on TV, it doesn't annoy the hell out of me. So often the girlfriend in this kind of relationship is a whiny, bitchy, nagging drain on a show, but here? It's completely the opposite. Not only does this relationship have a firm grasp on reality, but the interplay between the pair is smart and endearing. Upon finding out that Britt asked her out after he had seen a picture of her on her refrigerator (he had broken into her house during his thief days, you see), I fully expected Katie to explode and some major melodrama to unfold. Instead, in a wealth of twists and surprises offered by the show, Katie instead tells Britt to go outside, wait five minutes, and then break into the bedroom through the window. Where lesser shows would use this as a platform for a bunch of screaming, Terriers sees it as a total turn-on. Heh. Awesome. The refreshingly intelligent characterizations of women doesn't stop with Katie. As mentioned, Gretchen and Maggie have slightly smaller roles on the show, but they're equally engaging and multi-dimensional. Hank and Gretchen are ex-spouses, but there's still a lot of love and respect between them. The show takes the road less traveled and avoids the omnipresent "evil ex" cliches and even makes the possibility of the pair reuniting more complicated than expected. Gretchen's new beau is actually quite a good guy who tells a white lie to Gretchen in order to protect Hank. Most recent addition to the cast (as a recurring character rather than regular), is Karina Logue (Donal's real life sister) who plays, conveniently enough, his quirky, dark, slightly mentally ill sister on the show. She's brilliant and broken and in the world of Terriers, the fact that she secretly lives in her brother's attic just makes good sense. She isn't a series regular, but I do hope she'll stick around for a good long while.
All in all, I'm rooting for these characters in a way I simply don't for most other characters on air at the moment. The fact that this show is actually a serial masquerading as a pseudo-procedural is a big part of that. When I truly care about the people in a show, I care about what happens to them, even if it's a one-off A-plot. Even better, the A-plots are meaningful, but not in a heavy-handed after-school special kind of way that Grey's Anatomy does. We just see how these characters would react to the given situation in an authentic way. Nice. With this kind of set up, though, the writers have to try a lot harder to craft characters that really work. Fortunately, Terriers succeeds in spades. This show makes for an odd mix of mystery, drama, comedy, and dollops of just about everything else. You'd think it would be all over the place, but it's surprisingly balanced and never feels sloppy or uneven. I didn't realize just how invested I was in these characters until a truly heartbreaking scene between Katie and Hank where she confesses to screwing up and being afraid to tell Britt. I truly felt for her and found myself hoping Hank would succeed in convincing her to never tell Britt what happened. Hank couldn't bear the thought of devastating Britt, and quite frankly, neither could I. That's when I consciously realized just how much I've been enjoying this show and began to fear for its future.
As mentioned, the ratings are not good. Terrible, in fact. But the show has received nothing but praise from critics (as far as I know) and has been getting more and more buzz online lately. I'm cautiously optimistic that FX will see the potential here and give Terriers some time to build an audience. They really should have premiered this show in the summer or during one of the off-seasons when it would have had less competition and more of a chance to attract some viewers.
I don't know if Terriers will be around for more than a season, but it's definitely worth even a precarious investment.
Show Grade: A
Friday, October 8, 2010
The Revolution Will Not Be a Lot of Things
I finished Suzanne Collins' final installment of The Hunger Games the other day. I’m sure I’ll end up spinning a ridiculous epic about my thoughts and feelings, but from a bare bones perspective, my perceptions can be summed up thusly: I took notes while reading the book. That’s generally a bad sign. One, it means it took me way longer to read the book than any true page-turner ever would, and two, it means there things that were so irksome that I felt the need to write them down. For Mockingjay? You should see the ridiculous array of scraps of paper stuffed into the book-slot in my purse (a must-have for a girl with nowhere to go). Granted, it pales in comparison to the illuminated manuscript of angry scribblings associated with the Twilight series, but it’s still cause for concern.
I took my time with this book, but for all the wrong reasons. I had heard from people who plowed through it that it was disappointing and that the last 50 pages would surely elicit a furrowed brow and a disgruntled, “WHAT?” Boy oh boy, with recommendations like that, it’s no wonder I zipped through it in (!)… like a month. Ouch. After a slow, disconcerting start that turned into a confoundingly irksome middle, I found myself, at sadly frequent intervals, not…really…wanting to finish the book. I didn’t want to taint my enjoyment of the first two books with a disappointing denouement. Having now finished the novel, I’m torn as to whether or not I should have heeded these impulses.
I could go on and on about this book, but I suspect I’d just work myself into an annoyed dither. Again. Poor Annie has had to listen to my caterwauling stage by stage, all without spoiling the rest of the book (assuming it could really be spoiled). I’m going to try to keep this brief, so citing precedent, you should know that it’ll be a tome. It’s really hard to know where to begin or how to organize my thoughts on this one, but I’ll at least try to keep the stream of consciousness to a minimum.
I think my primary problem with this novel is that it just doesn’t do the trilogy justice. This is the final volume. It should be the thrilling culmination of all that’s been building over the last two books, but instead, it’s a lackluster let-down that is largely nonsensical and often boring. If this had been the third of five books, I don’t think I’d be as critical or as harsh. A middle book in a longer series doesn’t have to be all the things that a final volume does. It kind of felt like I was reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The main character (whose point of view is the only one the reader is allowed) spends the majority of the book moping and isn’t allowed a major role in most of the action. As with Harry in book 5, I was often annoyed and disappointed with Katniss in book 3. Having to sift through all that teen crap and emotional baggage when there’s a war going on just annoyed the hell out of me and seemed completely ridiculous. It kind of reminded me of the pilot for V. Seriously, mother and son are arguing about the girls he dates and school and whatnot now? Uh, you guys do realize there’s a giant alien spaceship hovering over your city, right? I’ve never been in a truly horrific situation where life and death are on the line, but I have to assume that petty squabbles and social quibbles would fly out the window. In looking at HP5 and Mockingjay, I spend the better part of both books dumfounded that anyone could possibly care about who to sit next to at lunch when such horrific things have happened and are happening as they speak. How can all this juvenile crap be going on when the world is ending?! HP5 is a far superior book, don’t get me wrong, but I just kept getting the same vibe from it in that sense. Geez, the books are even the same color. The major difference is that with Harry, that was book 5 of 7. He had two more volumes to come out of his funk and redeem himself in my eyes. Poor Katniss was not afforded such a luxury. Too boot, it made some sense for Harry to be an angsty, brooding, ball-of-whining in book 5. For Katniss to spend all of book 3 trapped inside the Suzanne Collins House of Psychiatry was completely out of character, nonsensical, and deleterious to the storyline. For the big finish, the revolution, the knock-down drag-out war, I expected a lot more fanfare and adrenaline. Collins somehow made everything seem inconsequential at a time when everything should have ultimate import. It made it very difficult to care about the story or any of the people in it. She seems to have opted for as little style and panache as possible and I can’t wrap my head around why.
In Katniss’ defense (and Collins’ further indictment), it seems that nearly all the characters I knew and loved in the first two books casually decided not to show up for volume three. I realize this is a YA novel written in first person and that effusive descriptions are necessarily scant, but I really did feel like I knew some of these characters and had grown to adore them. Too bad none of them were invited to the party this time around. It was most notable with Katniss, of course, given that she is the narrator of the story, but she is by no means the only character who seemed to have been completely reconceived by Collins for the final book. I literally spent the better part of the first 250 pages thinking, “You have got to be kidding me!” It got to the point where I was actually relieved when I’d get through a scene that wasn’t annoying, ridiculous, eye-roll inducing, senseless, or cringe-worthy. It was honestly a little exhilarating when a scene played out in a satisfying way (which isn’t to say it played out how I would have written it, but that it made any sense at all). I kept thinking to myself, “Katniss wouldn’t do that! Haymitch wouldn’t say that! Gale wouldn’t allow that!” Maybe it’s that these truly aren’t the same people I met in the first two books. They’ve been through a hell of a lot and it’s impossible to tell just how that will affect people. Maybe once you’ve survived such devastating events, it really isn’t a matter of who you are anymore because that person no longer exists. At the end of the day though, I really felt like I knew these people and I can’t imagine that they’d emerge on the other side of all this in the way that they did. Let me count the ways…
Katniss
In the first two books, I felt like she was a character I could trust. She was logical and determined and smart. No matter how horrible things got, I could be assured she would rise to the occasion and do whatever was necessary to accomplish her objective. Having lost so much to the Capitol, I would have thought she’d start off the culmination of her story with an unstoppable passion. I would have thought she’d be battered and broken and emotionally scarred, but that she would find a way to soldier on and do whatever it takes to save the people she loves. The Katniss that showed up for book three is not that Katniss. For whatever reason, Collins seemed to think it would be more compelling to turn the reluctant heroine into a weak, vaguely psychotic sob story who can barely get out of bed. Um, yay? I realize that she’s been through a lot and that she’s in an impossible situation, but that’s what happened in the first two books and she found a way to overcome. Katniss has always been motivated by the safety of her friends and family. Now, in book three, when they are all at their most vulnerable, she spends half her time hiding in a closet or sitting in a hospital bed. Ugh. In her defense, the big wigs of the revolution were reluctant to let their little figurehead do much of anything, but, well, in that case, maybe Collins should have taken a different approach to this volume, because what she came up with didn’t work. Every excuse I can conjure for Katniss is a slam against Collins. It just strikes me as completely dumfounding that Collins made the choices she did. She could have done so much with these characters and taken them in completely badass directions, and she chose to do this?! I realize that this isn’t my story and that I’m not the one calling the shots, but I’m hard-pressed to find any reason that I would go out of my way to make my narrator unlikeable to the extent that readers hardly even care is she survives the story (I’ve asked around, it’s not just me). At the very least, you shouldn’t be forced to go from respecting and trusting a character to constantly thinking, “Oh for crying out loud, you can’t possibly think that’s a good idea!” I don’t expect characters to always do the right thing and make the best decisions, but once in a while is nice. It just seems like anyone who could have survived the first two books would have been better prepared for the third. That goes for most characters, not just Katniss. In the first two books, no one carried the idiot ball, no one went upstairs during the horror movie as the audience is screaming for them to stop, and everyone was necessarily logical and strong. So the question is, what the hell do they put in the water in 13 that brought us to this?!
Gale
I’ve been a big fan of Gale’s pretty much since day one. I think I decided I adored him at the reaping when he said, “Up you go, Catnip.” I don’t know why, but I found that unduly endearing. At the end of the second book, I was super-psyched to get to see more of him. I assumed this volume would be a showcase for his character, and to certain extent, it was, but the storyline itself was so unsatisfying that it tempered his presence. I thought he’d be given a chance to really shine, but instead he’s relegated to dealing with the new and not-improved Katniss, a war that’s being fought in fairly stupid ways, and Peeta "must... strangle... Katniss" Mellark. The interpersonal dynamics were so ridiculous, particularly between him and Katniss, that I was actively annoyed for the better part of the book. For the record, my annoyance has nothing to do with Katniss ending up with Peeta. By about a third of the way into Mockingjay, I not only saw that coming, but was largely relieved by that fact. The Gale that I know and love doesn’t work with the Katniss that showed up for this volume. He can do better. It became more and more apparent that they only really worked under certain circumstances in this book. In the book’s favor, some of the best aspects of the story featured Katniss and Gale in battle. All through the first two books, as Katniss and the other tributes were trying to survive and keep Peeta alive, I kept thinking, “Geez, if only Gale were here, things would be going a whole lot better.” I was right. Seeing Katniss and Gale working together to defeat the enemy was exhilarating. There’s something so satisfying about a pair of people who share an unspoken language, who know each other’s movements so well that they don’t need a plan, and who have spent so much time together that they know what the other is thinking instantly. There’s just something about that vibe that really appeals to me. When the Capitol planes were attacking the hospital, all Katniss had to say was “Geese!” and they both instantly knew what to do. They have a shorthand that’s as useful as it is awesome. Unfortunately, these kinds of moments between the pair were few and far between because the second anything interesting would start to happen, Katniss would end up back in the hospital or being chastised for her conduct. What’s worse, Katniss’ attitude toward Gale was irksome and hypocritical. It made the dynamic between them strained and ridiculous. Seriously, we’re in the middle of a bloody war with people dying left and right and you’re going to hold a grudge?! I just don’t think that the same people who risked everything to keep their families (and each other) alive would treat each other like that… especially under these circumstances. My fondness for the two of them as a pair (either romantic or not) just didn’t translate here because Katniss didn’t translate here. Gale’s practical approach to the war was consistent with his character, but Katniss’ complete and total meltdown was shockingly inconsistent. Essentially, the pair that I adored lost any chance of making it the second Prim’s name was called at the reaping (at least as far as Collins is concerned). Whatever Collins’ motivations, she made me like Katniss so little that I would have been irked to no end if Gale had ended up with her. That’s how screwed up Katniss is in this book. Because, you know, who wouldn’t want the protagonist to completely suck it up in the end? Geez, is that what Collins is trying to do? Is that what she’s trying to say? That war is so awful that it can turn a strong, smart, beloved character into a neurotic, petty, waste of space? If so, mission accomplished.
Peeta
I’ve never been a huge fan of Peeta (or as I affectionately call his groupies, “Peetaphiles”—oh, come on, that’s funny), and I think to love this book, that was an essential missing ingredient. In fact, to really appreciate Mockingjay, I think you’d have to absolutely love Peeta. I do not. I never have. In truth, I don’t hate him or anything, I just quite honestly have no emotional attachment to him whatsoever, neither good, nor bad. I think if I truly loved him as so many readers do, the fact that the Capitol had warped his brain would have had a lot more impact and would have seemed a lot less ridiculous. For me, I couldn’t help but think, “Oh good hell, what’s next? Seriously, amnesia?” It just didn’t carry the emotional punch that it should have. I try to think of how I would have reacted if it had been a character I truly loved, and while I think it would have been emotionally gripping than it was with Peeta, I still think it would have fallen far short of devastating. For something like that? I expect devastating. I went into the third book thinking that finally Peeta would be given a chance to show off his skills in a way that would make me love him. For two books, we heard all about how great Peeta was with words and what a great leader he’d be for the revolution. Then the revolution gets here, and, like Katniss, he spends the entire time in a mental hospital. It was disappointing and anticlimactic and didn’t make me love Peeta any more than I already did. In fact, if anything, being stuck with the Peeta Killbot 5000 made things even worse. The only aspect of this that was endearing was the sight of Peeta and Gale kinda, sorta becoming friends. Sigh. It just seems that all the awesome beyond awesome things that Collins’ foreshadowed never came to fruition. Again, is that the point she’s trying to make? That war isn’t some fairy tale where the good guys win and everyone rides off into the sunset? If that was her goal, maybe she shouldn’t have included an epilogue with Peeta and Katniss watching their children laugh and play in a field of flowers… I just don’t know. Even if that were Collins’ goal with this book, I think it could have been brought about in a more powerful, more exciting, and more emotionally jarring way. Whatever reasons I come up with for why Collins did what she did, I’m met with the disappointing realization that no matter what her goal, the end result was a letdown. I think the real difference between me not caring about him for the first two books and me not caring about him here was that for volumes 1 and 2, my indifference was offset by other things—like the games. Here, we spend hundreds of pages alternating between hospital stays, photoshoots, and filming commercials and it just isn’t enough to make up for Peeta.
In spite of everyone acting out of character 80% of the time, the story itself was still absolutely predictable. Indeed, it seems the only real surprises seemed to be when characters started acting like themselves again (however briefly). When I can see the writing process behind a story or a show, I say that I can “see the strings.” Yeah, well, with Mockingjay, I saw almost nothing but strings. I don’t need to be spoonfed, I don’t need to be told what to think, and I don’t need soapboxing, thanks. Good god, some of the aspects of this book were so painfully heavy-handed, it was like reading a different author entirely. Which isn’t s to say that the first two books were subtle or anything, but there was at least some style and panache involved. It just felt like Collins didn’t trust her readers to analyze or draw conclusions. I actually liked the lyrics of The Hanging Tree, and whilst reading it, started drawing parallels between it and the story. I love getting to do that. That love was short-lived, however, because Collins then went on to explain each stanza for the next three pages of the book. Ugh. I realize your target demographic is young readers, but seriously, given them a little credit. Same goes for the stupid flashlight game with the cat. Yeah, we get it. We don’t need you to explain it all to us. It was anvilicious enough that we couldn’t help but to see it. Even if readers didn’t catch it, that’s fine too. You have to trust that some of your readers will get what you’re saying and others won’t. If you boil everything down to the point where an inbred cocker spaniel is like, “Seriously lady, I hear you,” then you’re going to alienate everyone who knew what you were trying to say five pages ago. Part of the fun is figuring these things out for yourself and it’s unsatisfying and almost insulting to be spoonfed.
I think ultimately, Collins lost sight of her strong suits. She’s at her best with action and suspense, both of which were in fairly short supply for Mockingjay. Sure, it had its moments, but it was nothing compared to the pulse-pounding edge-of-your-seatiness of the first two. I can think of only a few moments when I was chomping at the bit for the next scene, and even then, I could really take it or leave it. She seemed hell-bent on making this volume a cerebral experience, but that’s not where Collins or her characters are at their best. We checked into the Suzanne Collins’ House of Psychiatry early on, and the second we managed to escape, we’d return. Ugh. It seemed that every time things would start to get good, there’d be an explosion and we’d end up back in the hospital. Again. Poor Peeta finally gets recused, only to end up in a rubber room for the better part of the book. It was honestly 250 pages in before people finally seemed to realize that there was a war going on and that maybe, just maybe, they should be there to fight it. If Collins were more adept at writing ethical quandaries, moral dilemmas, heart-wrenching decisions, and love stories, I would have been fine with this decision, but really, it’s not what she’s best at.
Okay, I just came back to this review after several weeks of reviewing new TV pilots and I can’t really remember where I was or what else I still had to say… But, here goes…
I had heard from a number of people that the last 50 pages of the book were ridiculous so I was honestly a little hesitant to get that far. As it turns out, I was right to be wary. This is the final book of the series, the final scenes, and instead of a mind-bending crescendo of awesome, we get what I think just about every can agree was more of a, “Wait, what?” Not cool, Collins. Not cool at all. Seriously Katniss has finally (finally) made her way to Snow’s mansion, the story is finally steaming full speed ahead in the right direction, Katniss is hurtling toward her destiny and almost certain death and then, AND THEN! Huh? Seriously, what just happened? Oh holy hell, we’re in the hospital… again. Oh who am I kidding, of course we’re in the hospital again. I have a sneaking suspicion Collins simply didn’t know how the hell she was going to wrap things up from there (and even more of a suspicion that her publisher had a gun to her head in order to meet a deadline), so rather than letting the parts of the book that would actually be interesting and exciting play out, she just conveniently throws Katniss back in the hospital and gives readers the lame-ass Cliffs’ Notes version of the series climax. Disappointment squared. I was completely shocked that that’s what she chose to do. That she spent/wasted so much time following characters around as they moped their ways through the war was bad enough, but then to deny readers the thrilling conclusion that such a story warrants is just plain mean. To boot, her treatment of the final scenes eliminated all the emotional weight that should come with the deaths of Finnick and especially Prim. Seriously, some pages later, after the parachutes were dropped and Katniss finally woke up, she mentions that her sister is dead and I was seriously like, “Oh yeah, Prim died.” It should have been absolutely devastating, but instead, it just seemed like a total afterthought. The same goes for Finnick, although to a lesser extent. I realize that there really wasn’t much time to register Finnick’s death, but at least his ultimate demise could have been more interesting. He essentially dies off screen (er, off page). Too boot, I’m sorry did anyone out there NOT see that coming? Man alive, I had a feeling Finnick was a goner ages ago. Which is a real shame, because by the end of the series he and Gale were really the only people I cared about. Which should have meant that Finnick’s death would carry more weight, but Collins just didn’t seem to want to take the time. Sigh. Oh, and speaking of things that were totally obvious to everyone but the people in the book, did anyone out there really think for even a second that it was a Capitol plane that dropped the parachutes? I never had any doubt in my mind and was utterly perplexed that Katniss was in such turmoil. I’m sorry, but Katniss? Were you reading a different book this entire time? (Not that anyone could really blame you for that...)
Sigh. Having enjoyed volumes 1 and 2 so much, I really had to evaluate exactly what it was that made book 3 such a disappointment and why Collins would have made the decisions she made. I have a number of theories that help mitigate the poor choices, but ultimately, it just felt like Collins had a deadline to meet. I think with a few more drafts, this book really could have been excellent, but as is, it feels like she got cut off after the second rough draft and a blocky outline for the final chapters. My theories still do help, but most of them are difficult to support even when I tap my deepest of English major skills. One theory for her treatment of Mockingjay is that she was making a serious commentary about war and forcing readers to acknowledge that they really did delight in the horrors of the arena, just like the Capitol monsters. I’ll admit it, as horrible as the arena was, it was entertaining. By taking those characters and giving them horrendous emotional baggage to work through, perhaps Collins was trying to shine a light on what war really does to people. We see Katniss go from being a strong, confident person into an emotional mess and unstable narrator. In a way, it’s truly heart-breaking, but in another way, it’s just plain annoying. The character established in the first two books would have risen to the occasion, not imploded. Maybe that was Collins' point. We can’t really know how something so horrific will affect people and the horrors of war can destroy even the strongest of people. These are just a few of the many, many, many theories I’ve pondered when trying to figure out what the hell Collins was thinking, and they really do help, but in my estimation, no matter what Collins’ intent, she could have done so in a much more compelling way. Instead of leaving this series truly moved, I left it feeling annoyed and disappointed.
This post turned into an epic rant and I’m sorry. The book really did have its merits, it just didn’t live up to expectations or do justice to the story in a compelling way. It did its job. It ended things. And there were parts of the story that were quite strong. The final chapters leading up to the last 50 pages of “what the hell just happened?” were the best of the book. It’s the kind of writing Collins excels at. There were clever devices used, interesting character developments, and the story arc finally had some fire beneath it. Little things reminded me of what I enjoyed about the first two books. When they are looking at camera footage of themselves, one of the cameramen says that the Capitol really must not have any hovercraft because there were no aerial shots of the action—something only a cameraman would really notice. Collins looks for everyone to have value, even in unexpected ways, and I always enjoyed that. Too bad more of the book didn’t stir such positive emotions.
To sum things up, I have to mention a realization I had regarding the whole Peeta/Katniss/Gale situation. It’s exactly like the Chuck/Sarah/Bryce triangle from the first couple of seasons of Chuck. I always loved seeing Sarah and Bryce together because they are of comparable skill levels and work together so smoothly. With Chuck, it’s basically an hour of Sarah trying to keep his sorry ass alive. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Chuck (SO much more than Peeta), but at the end of the day, it’s still fairly annoying to watch him screw everything up while other people have to save him. I don’t think Chuck and Sarah complement each other in the same way that Peeta and Katniss don’t. I guess it just points to my own sensibilities though, because I'm seriously in the minority here.
I’m sure there’s more to discuss, but I’m spent. I can’t imagine anyone made it to this point in this tome of a post anyway, so ending abruptly shouldn’t be too jarring. I loved the first two books, but the third kind of managed to taint the experience as a whole. I’m hoping to re-read these one day and maybe then I’ll be able to appreciate book 3 more… you know, kind of like Alias season 3. Sigh. I think I’ll hedge my bets and re-read Harry Potter first. Solid ending to a spectacular series. Now that's how it’s done, people. (Except for the epilogue... I still take issue with that. I think it would have been better to have left if off or made it a lot simpler... more like an impression. I would have loved it if the epilogue had simply had Harry seeing Malfoy in a crowd and making eye contact or something. Nice and simple. Anyway, that's beside the point.)
I took my time with this book, but for all the wrong reasons. I had heard from people who plowed through it that it was disappointing and that the last 50 pages would surely elicit a furrowed brow and a disgruntled, “WHAT?” Boy oh boy, with recommendations like that, it’s no wonder I zipped through it in (!)… like a month. Ouch. After a slow, disconcerting start that turned into a confoundingly irksome middle, I found myself, at sadly frequent intervals, not…really…wanting to finish the book. I didn’t want to taint my enjoyment of the first two books with a disappointing denouement. Having now finished the novel, I’m torn as to whether or not I should have heeded these impulses.
I could go on and on about this book, but I suspect I’d just work myself into an annoyed dither. Again. Poor Annie has had to listen to my caterwauling stage by stage, all without spoiling the rest of the book (assuming it could really be spoiled). I’m going to try to keep this brief, so citing precedent, you should know that it’ll be a tome. It’s really hard to know where to begin or how to organize my thoughts on this one, but I’ll at least try to keep the stream of consciousness to a minimum.
I think my primary problem with this novel is that it just doesn’t do the trilogy justice. This is the final volume. It should be the thrilling culmination of all that’s been building over the last two books, but instead, it’s a lackluster let-down that is largely nonsensical and often boring. If this had been the third of five books, I don’t think I’d be as critical or as harsh. A middle book in a longer series doesn’t have to be all the things that a final volume does. It kind of felt like I was reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The main character (whose point of view is the only one the reader is allowed) spends the majority of the book moping and isn’t allowed a major role in most of the action. As with Harry in book 5, I was often annoyed and disappointed with Katniss in book 3. Having to sift through all that teen crap and emotional baggage when there’s a war going on just annoyed the hell out of me and seemed completely ridiculous. It kind of reminded me of the pilot for V. Seriously, mother and son are arguing about the girls he dates and school and whatnot now? Uh, you guys do realize there’s a giant alien spaceship hovering over your city, right? I’ve never been in a truly horrific situation where life and death are on the line, but I have to assume that petty squabbles and social quibbles would fly out the window. In looking at HP5 and Mockingjay, I spend the better part of both books dumfounded that anyone could possibly care about who to sit next to at lunch when such horrific things have happened and are happening as they speak. How can all this juvenile crap be going on when the world is ending?! HP5 is a far superior book, don’t get me wrong, but I just kept getting the same vibe from it in that sense. Geez, the books are even the same color. The major difference is that with Harry, that was book 5 of 7. He had two more volumes to come out of his funk and redeem himself in my eyes. Poor Katniss was not afforded such a luxury. Too boot, it made some sense for Harry to be an angsty, brooding, ball-of-whining in book 5. For Katniss to spend all of book 3 trapped inside the Suzanne Collins House of Psychiatry was completely out of character, nonsensical, and deleterious to the storyline. For the big finish, the revolution, the knock-down drag-out war, I expected a lot more fanfare and adrenaline. Collins somehow made everything seem inconsequential at a time when everything should have ultimate import. It made it very difficult to care about the story or any of the people in it. She seems to have opted for as little style and panache as possible and I can’t wrap my head around why.
In Katniss’ defense (and Collins’ further indictment), it seems that nearly all the characters I knew and loved in the first two books casually decided not to show up for volume three. I realize this is a YA novel written in first person and that effusive descriptions are necessarily scant, but I really did feel like I knew some of these characters and had grown to adore them. Too bad none of them were invited to the party this time around. It was most notable with Katniss, of course, given that she is the narrator of the story, but she is by no means the only character who seemed to have been completely reconceived by Collins for the final book. I literally spent the better part of the first 250 pages thinking, “You have got to be kidding me!” It got to the point where I was actually relieved when I’d get through a scene that wasn’t annoying, ridiculous, eye-roll inducing, senseless, or cringe-worthy. It was honestly a little exhilarating when a scene played out in a satisfying way (which isn’t to say it played out how I would have written it, but that it made any sense at all). I kept thinking to myself, “Katniss wouldn’t do that! Haymitch wouldn’t say that! Gale wouldn’t allow that!” Maybe it’s that these truly aren’t the same people I met in the first two books. They’ve been through a hell of a lot and it’s impossible to tell just how that will affect people. Maybe once you’ve survived such devastating events, it really isn’t a matter of who you are anymore because that person no longer exists. At the end of the day though, I really felt like I knew these people and I can’t imagine that they’d emerge on the other side of all this in the way that they did. Let me count the ways…
Katniss
In the first two books, I felt like she was a character I could trust. She was logical and determined and smart. No matter how horrible things got, I could be assured she would rise to the occasion and do whatever was necessary to accomplish her objective. Having lost so much to the Capitol, I would have thought she’d start off the culmination of her story with an unstoppable passion. I would have thought she’d be battered and broken and emotionally scarred, but that she would find a way to soldier on and do whatever it takes to save the people she loves. The Katniss that showed up for book three is not that Katniss. For whatever reason, Collins seemed to think it would be more compelling to turn the reluctant heroine into a weak, vaguely psychotic sob story who can barely get out of bed. Um, yay? I realize that she’s been through a lot and that she’s in an impossible situation, but that’s what happened in the first two books and she found a way to overcome. Katniss has always been motivated by the safety of her friends and family. Now, in book three, when they are all at their most vulnerable, she spends half her time hiding in a closet or sitting in a hospital bed. Ugh. In her defense, the big wigs of the revolution were reluctant to let their little figurehead do much of anything, but, well, in that case, maybe Collins should have taken a different approach to this volume, because what she came up with didn’t work. Every excuse I can conjure for Katniss is a slam against Collins. It just strikes me as completely dumfounding that Collins made the choices she did. She could have done so much with these characters and taken them in completely badass directions, and she chose to do this?! I realize that this isn’t my story and that I’m not the one calling the shots, but I’m hard-pressed to find any reason that I would go out of my way to make my narrator unlikeable to the extent that readers hardly even care is she survives the story (I’ve asked around, it’s not just me). At the very least, you shouldn’t be forced to go from respecting and trusting a character to constantly thinking, “Oh for crying out loud, you can’t possibly think that’s a good idea!” I don’t expect characters to always do the right thing and make the best decisions, but once in a while is nice. It just seems like anyone who could have survived the first two books would have been better prepared for the third. That goes for most characters, not just Katniss. In the first two books, no one carried the idiot ball, no one went upstairs during the horror movie as the audience is screaming for them to stop, and everyone was necessarily logical and strong. So the question is, what the hell do they put in the water in 13 that brought us to this?!
Gale
I’ve been a big fan of Gale’s pretty much since day one. I think I decided I adored him at the reaping when he said, “Up you go, Catnip.” I don’t know why, but I found that unduly endearing. At the end of the second book, I was super-psyched to get to see more of him. I assumed this volume would be a showcase for his character, and to certain extent, it was, but the storyline itself was so unsatisfying that it tempered his presence. I thought he’d be given a chance to really shine, but instead he’s relegated to dealing with the new and not-improved Katniss, a war that’s being fought in fairly stupid ways, and Peeta "must... strangle... Katniss" Mellark. The interpersonal dynamics were so ridiculous, particularly between him and Katniss, that I was actively annoyed for the better part of the book. For the record, my annoyance has nothing to do with Katniss ending up with Peeta. By about a third of the way into Mockingjay, I not only saw that coming, but was largely relieved by that fact. The Gale that I know and love doesn’t work with the Katniss that showed up for this volume. He can do better. It became more and more apparent that they only really worked under certain circumstances in this book. In the book’s favor, some of the best aspects of the story featured Katniss and Gale in battle. All through the first two books, as Katniss and the other tributes were trying to survive and keep Peeta alive, I kept thinking, “Geez, if only Gale were here, things would be going a whole lot better.” I was right. Seeing Katniss and Gale working together to defeat the enemy was exhilarating. There’s something so satisfying about a pair of people who share an unspoken language, who know each other’s movements so well that they don’t need a plan, and who have spent so much time together that they know what the other is thinking instantly. There’s just something about that vibe that really appeals to me. When the Capitol planes were attacking the hospital, all Katniss had to say was “Geese!” and they both instantly knew what to do. They have a shorthand that’s as useful as it is awesome. Unfortunately, these kinds of moments between the pair were few and far between because the second anything interesting would start to happen, Katniss would end up back in the hospital or being chastised for her conduct. What’s worse, Katniss’ attitude toward Gale was irksome and hypocritical. It made the dynamic between them strained and ridiculous. Seriously, we’re in the middle of a bloody war with people dying left and right and you’re going to hold a grudge?! I just don’t think that the same people who risked everything to keep their families (and each other) alive would treat each other like that… especially under these circumstances. My fondness for the two of them as a pair (either romantic or not) just didn’t translate here because Katniss didn’t translate here. Gale’s practical approach to the war was consistent with his character, but Katniss’ complete and total meltdown was shockingly inconsistent. Essentially, the pair that I adored lost any chance of making it the second Prim’s name was called at the reaping (at least as far as Collins is concerned). Whatever Collins’ motivations, she made me like Katniss so little that I would have been irked to no end if Gale had ended up with her. That’s how screwed up Katniss is in this book. Because, you know, who wouldn’t want the protagonist to completely suck it up in the end? Geez, is that what Collins is trying to do? Is that what she’s trying to say? That war is so awful that it can turn a strong, smart, beloved character into a neurotic, petty, waste of space? If so, mission accomplished.
Peeta
I’ve never been a huge fan of Peeta (or as I affectionately call his groupies, “Peetaphiles”—oh, come on, that’s funny), and I think to love this book, that was an essential missing ingredient. In fact, to really appreciate Mockingjay, I think you’d have to absolutely love Peeta. I do not. I never have. In truth, I don’t hate him or anything, I just quite honestly have no emotional attachment to him whatsoever, neither good, nor bad. I think if I truly loved him as so many readers do, the fact that the Capitol had warped his brain would have had a lot more impact and would have seemed a lot less ridiculous. For me, I couldn’t help but think, “Oh good hell, what’s next? Seriously, amnesia?” It just didn’t carry the emotional punch that it should have. I try to think of how I would have reacted if it had been a character I truly loved, and while I think it would have been emotionally gripping than it was with Peeta, I still think it would have fallen far short of devastating. For something like that? I expect devastating. I went into the third book thinking that finally Peeta would be given a chance to show off his skills in a way that would make me love him. For two books, we heard all about how great Peeta was with words and what a great leader he’d be for the revolution. Then the revolution gets here, and, like Katniss, he spends the entire time in a mental hospital. It was disappointing and anticlimactic and didn’t make me love Peeta any more than I already did. In fact, if anything, being stuck with the Peeta Killbot 5000 made things even worse. The only aspect of this that was endearing was the sight of Peeta and Gale kinda, sorta becoming friends. Sigh. It just seems that all the awesome beyond awesome things that Collins’ foreshadowed never came to fruition. Again, is that the point she’s trying to make? That war isn’t some fairy tale where the good guys win and everyone rides off into the sunset? If that was her goal, maybe she shouldn’t have included an epilogue with Peeta and Katniss watching their children laugh and play in a field of flowers… I just don’t know. Even if that were Collins’ goal with this book, I think it could have been brought about in a more powerful, more exciting, and more emotionally jarring way. Whatever reasons I come up with for why Collins did what she did, I’m met with the disappointing realization that no matter what her goal, the end result was a letdown. I think the real difference between me not caring about him for the first two books and me not caring about him here was that for volumes 1 and 2, my indifference was offset by other things—like the games. Here, we spend hundreds of pages alternating between hospital stays, photoshoots, and filming commercials and it just isn’t enough to make up for Peeta.
In spite of everyone acting out of character 80% of the time, the story itself was still absolutely predictable. Indeed, it seems the only real surprises seemed to be when characters started acting like themselves again (however briefly). When I can see the writing process behind a story or a show, I say that I can “see the strings.” Yeah, well, with Mockingjay, I saw almost nothing but strings. I don’t need to be spoonfed, I don’t need to be told what to think, and I don’t need soapboxing, thanks. Good god, some of the aspects of this book were so painfully heavy-handed, it was like reading a different author entirely. Which isn’t s to say that the first two books were subtle or anything, but there was at least some style and panache involved. It just felt like Collins didn’t trust her readers to analyze or draw conclusions. I actually liked the lyrics of The Hanging Tree, and whilst reading it, started drawing parallels between it and the story. I love getting to do that. That love was short-lived, however, because Collins then went on to explain each stanza for the next three pages of the book. Ugh. I realize your target demographic is young readers, but seriously, given them a little credit. Same goes for the stupid flashlight game with the cat. Yeah, we get it. We don’t need you to explain it all to us. It was anvilicious enough that we couldn’t help but to see it. Even if readers didn’t catch it, that’s fine too. You have to trust that some of your readers will get what you’re saying and others won’t. If you boil everything down to the point where an inbred cocker spaniel is like, “Seriously lady, I hear you,” then you’re going to alienate everyone who knew what you were trying to say five pages ago. Part of the fun is figuring these things out for yourself and it’s unsatisfying and almost insulting to be spoonfed.
I think ultimately, Collins lost sight of her strong suits. She’s at her best with action and suspense, both of which were in fairly short supply for Mockingjay. Sure, it had its moments, but it was nothing compared to the pulse-pounding edge-of-your-seatiness of the first two. I can think of only a few moments when I was chomping at the bit for the next scene, and even then, I could really take it or leave it. She seemed hell-bent on making this volume a cerebral experience, but that’s not where Collins or her characters are at their best. We checked into the Suzanne Collins’ House of Psychiatry early on, and the second we managed to escape, we’d return. Ugh. It seemed that every time things would start to get good, there’d be an explosion and we’d end up back in the hospital. Again. Poor Peeta finally gets recused, only to end up in a rubber room for the better part of the book. It was honestly 250 pages in before people finally seemed to realize that there was a war going on and that maybe, just maybe, they should be there to fight it. If Collins were more adept at writing ethical quandaries, moral dilemmas, heart-wrenching decisions, and love stories, I would have been fine with this decision, but really, it’s not what she’s best at.
Okay, I just came back to this review after several weeks of reviewing new TV pilots and I can’t really remember where I was or what else I still had to say… But, here goes…
I had heard from a number of people that the last 50 pages of the book were ridiculous so I was honestly a little hesitant to get that far. As it turns out, I was right to be wary. This is the final book of the series, the final scenes, and instead of a mind-bending crescendo of awesome, we get what I think just about every can agree was more of a, “Wait, what?” Not cool, Collins. Not cool at all. Seriously Katniss has finally (finally) made her way to Snow’s mansion, the story is finally steaming full speed ahead in the right direction, Katniss is hurtling toward her destiny and almost certain death and then, AND THEN! Huh? Seriously, what just happened? Oh holy hell, we’re in the hospital… again. Oh who am I kidding, of course we’re in the hospital again. I have a sneaking suspicion Collins simply didn’t know how the hell she was going to wrap things up from there (and even more of a suspicion that her publisher had a gun to her head in order to meet a deadline), so rather than letting the parts of the book that would actually be interesting and exciting play out, she just conveniently throws Katniss back in the hospital and gives readers the lame-ass Cliffs’ Notes version of the series climax. Disappointment squared. I was completely shocked that that’s what she chose to do. That she spent/wasted so much time following characters around as they moped their ways through the war was bad enough, but then to deny readers the thrilling conclusion that such a story warrants is just plain mean. To boot, her treatment of the final scenes eliminated all the emotional weight that should come with the deaths of Finnick and especially Prim. Seriously, some pages later, after the parachutes were dropped and Katniss finally woke up, she mentions that her sister is dead and I was seriously like, “Oh yeah, Prim died.” It should have been absolutely devastating, but instead, it just seemed like a total afterthought. The same goes for Finnick, although to a lesser extent. I realize that there really wasn’t much time to register Finnick’s death, but at least his ultimate demise could have been more interesting. He essentially dies off screen (er, off page). Too boot, I’m sorry did anyone out there NOT see that coming? Man alive, I had a feeling Finnick was a goner ages ago. Which is a real shame, because by the end of the series he and Gale were really the only people I cared about. Which should have meant that Finnick’s death would carry more weight, but Collins just didn’t seem to want to take the time. Sigh. Oh, and speaking of things that were totally obvious to everyone but the people in the book, did anyone out there really think for even a second that it was a Capitol plane that dropped the parachutes? I never had any doubt in my mind and was utterly perplexed that Katniss was in such turmoil. I’m sorry, but Katniss? Were you reading a different book this entire time? (Not that anyone could really blame you for that...)
Sigh. Having enjoyed volumes 1 and 2 so much, I really had to evaluate exactly what it was that made book 3 such a disappointment and why Collins would have made the decisions she made. I have a number of theories that help mitigate the poor choices, but ultimately, it just felt like Collins had a deadline to meet. I think with a few more drafts, this book really could have been excellent, but as is, it feels like she got cut off after the second rough draft and a blocky outline for the final chapters. My theories still do help, but most of them are difficult to support even when I tap my deepest of English major skills. One theory for her treatment of Mockingjay is that she was making a serious commentary about war and forcing readers to acknowledge that they really did delight in the horrors of the arena, just like the Capitol monsters. I’ll admit it, as horrible as the arena was, it was entertaining. By taking those characters and giving them horrendous emotional baggage to work through, perhaps Collins was trying to shine a light on what war really does to people. We see Katniss go from being a strong, confident person into an emotional mess and unstable narrator. In a way, it’s truly heart-breaking, but in another way, it’s just plain annoying. The character established in the first two books would have risen to the occasion, not imploded. Maybe that was Collins' point. We can’t really know how something so horrific will affect people and the horrors of war can destroy even the strongest of people. These are just a few of the many, many, many theories I’ve pondered when trying to figure out what the hell Collins was thinking, and they really do help, but in my estimation, no matter what Collins’ intent, she could have done so in a much more compelling way. Instead of leaving this series truly moved, I left it feeling annoyed and disappointed.
This post turned into an epic rant and I’m sorry. The book really did have its merits, it just didn’t live up to expectations or do justice to the story in a compelling way. It did its job. It ended things. And there were parts of the story that were quite strong. The final chapters leading up to the last 50 pages of “what the hell just happened?” were the best of the book. It’s the kind of writing Collins excels at. There were clever devices used, interesting character developments, and the story arc finally had some fire beneath it. Little things reminded me of what I enjoyed about the first two books. When they are looking at camera footage of themselves, one of the cameramen says that the Capitol really must not have any hovercraft because there were no aerial shots of the action—something only a cameraman would really notice. Collins looks for everyone to have value, even in unexpected ways, and I always enjoyed that. Too bad more of the book didn’t stir such positive emotions.
To sum things up, I have to mention a realization I had regarding the whole Peeta/Katniss/Gale situation. It’s exactly like the Chuck/Sarah/Bryce triangle from the first couple of seasons of Chuck. I always loved seeing Sarah and Bryce together because they are of comparable skill levels and work together so smoothly. With Chuck, it’s basically an hour of Sarah trying to keep his sorry ass alive. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Chuck (SO much more than Peeta), but at the end of the day, it’s still fairly annoying to watch him screw everything up while other people have to save him. I don’t think Chuck and Sarah complement each other in the same way that Peeta and Katniss don’t. I guess it just points to my own sensibilities though, because I'm seriously in the minority here.
I’m sure there’s more to discuss, but I’m spent. I can’t imagine anyone made it to this point in this tome of a post anyway, so ending abruptly shouldn’t be too jarring. I loved the first two books, but the third kind of managed to taint the experience as a whole. I’m hoping to re-read these one day and maybe then I’ll be able to appreciate book 3 more… you know, kind of like Alias season 3. Sigh. I think I’ll hedge my bets and re-read Harry Potter first. Solid ending to a spectacular series. Now that's how it’s done, people. (Except for the epilogue... I still take issue with that. I think it would have been better to have left if off or made it a lot simpler... more like an impression. I would have loved it if the epilogue had simply had Harry seeing Malfoy in a crowd and making eye contact or something. Nice and simple. Anyway, that's beside the point.)
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