- Published on
Truer words have never been written: in a drama centered on family, there will inevitably be conflict that tears at the family’s seams.
Since its first episode, Amazon’s Outer Range has been steering in that direction. While peeling back the onion of its central mystery – namely, just what is that fateful hole-in-the-ground – the writers have been cautiously placing roadblocks between its central players, the Abbotts. (Yes, of course, the Tillersons haven’t exactly been good neighbors, but let me wax on philosophically with the proper thematic emphasis at this point.) The husband has failed the wife and vice versa. The sons have failed the father and vice versa. The nuclear unit has begun to crumble, but never have the tensions been so high that they’ve come to blows … until the last few moments of “The Family,” episode six in the first season.
Perry Abbott has confessed to the accidental death of Trevor Tillerson: he told us so much when he said he left a letter for Sheriff Joy Hawk.
As this is (mostly) the seminal event that put all of these characters on this shared trajectory, then it’s only natural that a confession would rear its ugly head in those closing moments. Just as it put down roots in drawing the fractured unit together (in their acts to conceal it), it’s only fitting that it would equally serve their undoing. It looks to – furthermore – have physically harmed the youngest among them – Amy – as she had her forehead cut by some flying glass and runs out of the house into the yard. The closing scenes show her, distraught, starring up at the night sky as a police car arrives on the horizon. (FYI: we don’t know, yet, that they’re coming for Perry. It’s always good to keep misdirection in mind when evaluating a mystery.)
And speaking of that other family?
The Tillersons were not without a bit of exploration in this forty-five minute installment. It’s been revealed that the curiously loopy Billy would actually inherit control of the ranch and its associated fortune, a development that put the estranged Patricia Tillerson into high gear. It isn’t as if the young man is incapable of running a business, at least not so much that audiences have been shown. What we’ve experienced thus far is a karaoke-fueled performance of a young man who hasn’t quite found himself, choosing instead to flit and float from moment-to-moment. I’m reserving judgment on his mental capabilities until we’re provided something specific: in the meantime, I just think of him as a bit goofy.
Since its first episode, Amazon’s Outer Range has been steering in that direction. While peeling back the onion of its central mystery – namely, just what is that fateful hole-in-the-ground – the writers have been cautiously placing roadblocks between its central players, the Abbotts. (Yes, of course, the Tillersons haven’t exactly been good neighbors, but let me wax on philosophically with the proper thematic emphasis at this point.) The husband has failed the wife and vice versa. The sons have failed the father and vice versa. The nuclear unit has begun to crumble, but never have the tensions been so high that they’ve come to blows … until the last few moments of “The Family,” episode six in the first season.
Perry Abbott has confessed to the accidental death of Trevor Tillerson: he told us so much when he said he left a letter for Sheriff Joy Hawk.
As this is (mostly) the seminal event that put all of these characters on this shared trajectory, then it’s only natural that a confession would rear its ugly head in those closing moments. Just as it put down roots in drawing the fractured unit together (in their acts to conceal it), it’s only fitting that it would equally serve their undoing. It looks to – furthermore – have physically harmed the youngest among them – Amy – as she had her forehead cut by some flying glass and runs out of the house into the yard. The closing scenes show her, distraught, starring up at the night sky as a police car arrives on the horizon. (FYI: we don’t know, yet, that they’re coming for Perry. It’s always good to keep misdirection in mind when evaluating a mystery.)
And speaking of that other family?
The Tillersons were not without a bit of exploration in this forty-five minute installment. It’s been revealed that the curiously loopy Billy would actually inherit control of the ranch and its associated fortune, a development that put the estranged Patricia Tillerson into high gear. It isn’t as if the young man is incapable of running a business, at least not so much that audiences have been shown. What we’ve experienced thus far is a karaoke-fueled performance of a young man who hasn’t quite found himself, choosing instead to flit and float from moment-to-moment. I’m reserving judgment on his mental capabilities until we’re provided something specific: in the meantime, I just think of him as a bit goofy.
Still, more happened in this episode that kinda/sorta presents just how dire these collective circumstances have grown to this point. Royal Abbott seemingly has broken down: with no other alternative, he abandons an injured Autumn in the wild as he finally wants her no where near himself or his family. As she hobbles back to civilization, Autumn is confronted by a – ahem – somewhat transcendental bear who mentally encourages her to confide in some nameless ‘him.’ (Eventually, we learn it’s Billy Tillerson, but again: be mindful of misdirections.) The two do inevitably pair up, giving Autumn the chance to tell him a story as well as show him the aforementioned hole. There are some mystical color-changing sequences involved not unlike a bizarre drug trip, but I haven’t quite decided what to make of that yet.
However, this might be my first major complaint regarding just how the show has weaved its various yarns: take this for what it’s worth, but Autumn is covering far too much territory on foot – under injury – than would seem possible at this point. She goes from being tossed aside in the wilderness by Royal, back to camp, into town (which is seemingly not just around the corner), checking into a hotel, eating at a diner, hiking with Billy, and so on and so forth. I don’t know if those writers have ever walked around all that much, but this would take an awful lot of time to accomplish on foot. Adding insult to injury is the fact that her leg’s been injured, so you folks might want to actually dial it back … unless, again, we’re dealing with misdirection.
Perhaps that’s the thing: maybe we’re about to find out some massive.
Eventually, audiences need to know why Royal is so terrified about his family finding out about the west pasture. I've suggested that just who he is must tie somehow into the show's primary secrets, and I suspect his true identity will be a shocker (in no small fashion). Eventually, Autumn's past must come clean. Eventually, Wayne Tillerson's obsession with the Abbott land must have a foundation; they've been hinting at it long enough that I think we've owed a disclosure. And -- eventually -- we're going to need to know what happened to Rebecca. She's been mentioned enough already, folks; let's start with the reveals. I think we've earned it.
So far as I’ve been able to ascertain, the season is a slim eight episodes long; and Amazon is currently operating under a format of releasing two-at-a-time on Fridays. These last two episodes may be all that we’re given in this supernatural tale involving the Abbotts and the Tillersons; there’s been no word on renewal as of yet, and one can only hope all that has come down thus far has been effectively building toward some climax with or without the possible cliffhanger. These days, shows have been leaning reasonably heavily toward tying up one season-long storyline before dripping clues for what might be coming next; I, for one, hope “The Family” is only a tease for what’s going to be tied up in the remaining hours.
At this point, only time will tell … and time – as we’ve learned – might just be some big hole in the ground.
-- EZ
However, this might be my first major complaint regarding just how the show has weaved its various yarns: take this for what it’s worth, but Autumn is covering far too much territory on foot – under injury – than would seem possible at this point. She goes from being tossed aside in the wilderness by Royal, back to camp, into town (which is seemingly not just around the corner), checking into a hotel, eating at a diner, hiking with Billy, and so on and so forth. I don’t know if those writers have ever walked around all that much, but this would take an awful lot of time to accomplish on foot. Adding insult to injury is the fact that her leg’s been injured, so you folks might want to actually dial it back … unless, again, we’re dealing with misdirection.
Perhaps that’s the thing: maybe we’re about to find out some massive.
Eventually, audiences need to know why Royal is so terrified about his family finding out about the west pasture. I've suggested that just who he is must tie somehow into the show's primary secrets, and I suspect his true identity will be a shocker (in no small fashion). Eventually, Autumn's past must come clean. Eventually, Wayne Tillerson's obsession with the Abbott land must have a foundation; they've been hinting at it long enough that I think we've owed a disclosure. And -- eventually -- we're going to need to know what happened to Rebecca. She's been mentioned enough already, folks; let's start with the reveals. I think we've earned it.
So far as I’ve been able to ascertain, the season is a slim eight episodes long; and Amazon is currently operating under a format of releasing two-at-a-time on Fridays. These last two episodes may be all that we’re given in this supernatural tale involving the Abbotts and the Tillersons; there’s been no word on renewal as of yet, and one can only hope all that has come down thus far has been effectively building toward some climax with or without the possible cliffhanger. These days, shows have been leaning reasonably heavily toward tying up one season-long storyline before dripping clues for what might be coming next; I, for one, hope “The Family” is only a tease for what’s going to be tied up in the remaining hours.
At this point, only time will tell … and time – as we’ve learned – might just be some big hole in the ground.
-- EZ
- Published on
PROGRAMMING NOTE
Folks who watch this space regularly know all-too-well that one of my principle jobs as Editor-In-Chief for SciFiHistory.Net is to pass along what I believe to be some of the very best information and reviews humanly possible. What you may not know is that I'm often engaged behind-the-scenes in creative outreach: I'm constantly firing off email after email -- even letter after letter, for those of you who know old school -- to the movers and shakers I can find on the Information Superhighway. In most cases, I'm asking for product to review, and even in cases where that's unlikely I still do my part to make my brand -- to make SciFiHistory.Net -- known. That way, some folks mark my page and come back later when they do have something to offer.
One of my recent contacts is the firm Rising Sun Media. They were established in 2007 with the goal of providing audiences some of the best sights and sounds possible via through streaming and physical product. There were gracious enough to share with me a link with which I could view Mutant Stranger From Mars, and I'm happy to share their information with you below with links to their presence on World Wide Web. As always, you are encouraged to check all things out on your own ... and happy viewing!
Twitter: Rising Sun Media
Vimeo: Rising Sun Media
Storefront: Rising Sun Media
Watch 'Mutant Swinger From Mars' (with commercials): Link
Take note, friends: comedy – when done right – always was the original ‘meta.’
For those who read here and might be a bit too old to understand the reference, I’ll explain: ‘meta’ is, essentially, being able to see a thing from outside of it in a way that demonstrates complete awareness. It’s the knowing grin. It’s a perceptive glance. It’s a state of being while – at the same time – exercising full recognition that you are, in fact, caught within a state of being. Occasionally, television shows kinda/sorta break that fourth wall with their audiences so that the actors – playing characters – can give a wink and a nod to the viewers, indicating benignly “we’re in this with you.” It’s a rare feat to be accomplished effectively, but stranger things have been tried.
Comedy embraces its own self-awareness. It consciously goes about lampooning reality while instantly mocking itself. Granted, not all comedies do this, nor should it be tried to everyone who engages in capturing humor live, on tape, or in film: it’s a treacherous exercise that – if it comes off badly – truly ruins the work. It is not without great risk, as nothing truly great ever is. But when it’s done right, it’s damn near genius. Think of it as satire that’s lovingly ridiculing itself, and maybe – maybe – you get the idea.
Now, I can’t tell you exactly when Mutant Swinger From Mars truly came to life (more on that in a moment), but I can tell you by appearances everyone involved in the crafting and execution of this comedy was ‘in’ on the joke from the outset. The group behind it undoubtedly knew what they wanted, how they would get there, and even what it would look like in its completion. That doesn’t mean that all of its jokes worked perfectly – there are some ‘groaners’ in there … but that happens when you’ve truly achieved self-awareness.
Are you hip?
Well, if you’re not, then you will be.
Yes. You will be.
For those who read here and might be a bit too old to understand the reference, I’ll explain: ‘meta’ is, essentially, being able to see a thing from outside of it in a way that demonstrates complete awareness. It’s the knowing grin. It’s a perceptive glance. It’s a state of being while – at the same time – exercising full recognition that you are, in fact, caught within a state of being. Occasionally, television shows kinda/sorta break that fourth wall with their audiences so that the actors – playing characters – can give a wink and a nod to the viewers, indicating benignly “we’re in this with you.” It’s a rare feat to be accomplished effectively, but stranger things have been tried.
Comedy embraces its own self-awareness. It consciously goes about lampooning reality while instantly mocking itself. Granted, not all comedies do this, nor should it be tried to everyone who engages in capturing humor live, on tape, or in film: it’s a treacherous exercise that – if it comes off badly – truly ruins the work. It is not without great risk, as nothing truly great ever is. But when it’s done right, it’s damn near genius. Think of it as satire that’s lovingly ridiculing itself, and maybe – maybe – you get the idea.
Now, I can’t tell you exactly when Mutant Swinger From Mars truly came to life (more on that in a moment), but I can tell you by appearances everyone involved in the crafting and execution of this comedy was ‘in’ on the joke from the outset. The group behind it undoubtedly knew what they wanted, how they would get there, and even what it would look like in its completion. That doesn’t mean that all of its jokes worked perfectly – there are some ‘groaners’ in there … but that happens when you’ve truly achieved self-awareness.
Are you hip?
Well, if you’re not, then you will be.
Yes. You will be.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com citation:
“A long lost sci-fi film from the 50’s, finally, has been recovered! Martians from Mars come to Earth for its most valuable resource … women! It’s up to Rusty Rave to stop them!”
I’ve mentioned before that I’m forever thankful to have grown up in a time and place wherein kids practically couldn’t suffer from things like Attention Deficit Disorder. Television – on a good day without a thundercloud in the sky – had anywhere from six to nine channels. There was no DVD. There were no VCRs. There was no streaming. In short, you had what you had; and if you wanted to watch something on the Boob Tube then you had to be happy with whatever it was local stations gave to you. Nine times out of ten, I was burdened with the exact kind of films those wonderful satirists at Mystery Science Theatre 3000 parodied. Mountains upon mountains upon mountains of shlock. Pure shlock. Sometimes? Pure dreck.
And, proudly, I made do.
Because that was what syndicated television programming was, I lost count of the number of times I’d likely seen I Was A Teenage Werewolf (1957) and fare like it. By the time I was ten years old, I’d probably seen MST3K’s entire library of bad films at least a half-dozen times; and because I had nothing else to change the channel to I stuck with it. All of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Like those merry commentators, I found a way to get through, and – you bet – sometimes that meant talking back to the screen. Barking at the characters. Laughing at their circumstances. It’s a uniquely human experience kids today just can’t appreciate.
That’s why a little something something like Mutant Swinger From Mars makes perfect sense to me.
As a comedy, it was clearly conceived (if not executed) by folks who shared a similar childhood. It’s a goofy plot populated by stereotypical characters drawn from a bygone era, and all of it is couched in some irrepressible nonsense about being severely important. It’s all delivered with a kind of ham-handed seriousness to the point of parody. It cleverly upends the conventions of those films – the mad scientist, the alien invaders, the cultural norms, etc. – by putting them on display … and dialing it up to eleven!
It isn’t enough for the inventor to craft his own diabolical Frankenstein … not when this one can be a reanimated 50’s swinger with a ridiculous fashion sense. It isn’t enough to write a single joke mocking a single film from the true dawn of Science Fiction … not when you can build a script around mocking all of them! And it isn’t enough for the brave Martian female who threw herself in front of a laser to save the Earth hero to merely whisper her dying words in his ear … not when she can go out licking it!
(FYI: that was my biggest and best laugh.)
From the film’s IMDB.com citation:
“A long lost sci-fi film from the 50’s, finally, has been recovered! Martians from Mars come to Earth for its most valuable resource … women! It’s up to Rusty Rave to stop them!”
I’ve mentioned before that I’m forever thankful to have grown up in a time and place wherein kids practically couldn’t suffer from things like Attention Deficit Disorder. Television – on a good day without a thundercloud in the sky – had anywhere from six to nine channels. There was no DVD. There were no VCRs. There was no streaming. In short, you had what you had; and if you wanted to watch something on the Boob Tube then you had to be happy with whatever it was local stations gave to you. Nine times out of ten, I was burdened with the exact kind of films those wonderful satirists at Mystery Science Theatre 3000 parodied. Mountains upon mountains upon mountains of shlock. Pure shlock. Sometimes? Pure dreck.
And, proudly, I made do.
Because that was what syndicated television programming was, I lost count of the number of times I’d likely seen I Was A Teenage Werewolf (1957) and fare like it. By the time I was ten years old, I’d probably seen MST3K’s entire library of bad films at least a half-dozen times; and because I had nothing else to change the channel to I stuck with it. All of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Like those merry commentators, I found a way to get through, and – you bet – sometimes that meant talking back to the screen. Barking at the characters. Laughing at their circumstances. It’s a uniquely human experience kids today just can’t appreciate.
That’s why a little something something like Mutant Swinger From Mars makes perfect sense to me.
As a comedy, it was clearly conceived (if not executed) by folks who shared a similar childhood. It’s a goofy plot populated by stereotypical characters drawn from a bygone era, and all of it is couched in some irrepressible nonsense about being severely important. It’s all delivered with a kind of ham-handed seriousness to the point of parody. It cleverly upends the conventions of those films – the mad scientist, the alien invaders, the cultural norms, etc. – by putting them on display … and dialing it up to eleven!
It isn’t enough for the inventor to craft his own diabolical Frankenstein … not when this one can be a reanimated 50’s swinger with a ridiculous fashion sense. It isn’t enough to write a single joke mocking a single film from the true dawn of Science Fiction … not when you can build a script around mocking all of them! And it isn’t enough for the brave Martian female who threw herself in front of a laser to save the Earth hero to merely whisper her dying words in his ear … not when she can go out licking it!
(FYI: that was my biggest and best laugh.)
I’d be remiss in my duties as a SciFi Historian, though, if I didn’t pause to tell you a bit of history which might also tweak your interest.
The sad truth is that Mutant Swinger – like so many of the films it idolizes through mirth – is itself an almost forgotten flick. From information that’s been passed on to me via its publicist, it was filmed some time in the late 1990’s and then just kinda/sorta dropped off the radar, never finding a distributor or outlet for airing. Writer/director Michael Kallio did as industry professionals do and, simply, moved on to other work. (Those bills aren’t gonna pay themselves, am I right?) Still, labors of love do not go away quietly, and – from the looks of its history on IMDB.com – it’s clear that he kept it afloat when opportunities presented themselves, making festival and ComicCon-style appearances for showings.
For what it’s worth, dare I suggest that it’s the kind of film that never truly goes out of style?
Comedy changes – what’s funny today isn’t necessarily what was funny ten, twenty, and thirty years ago – but I’ve always argued that there’s a timelessness to authentic parody. Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein (1974) is the type of motion picture that’ll always have an audience; while the wifey and I noticed some of the Millennials in attendance at a recent screening took issue with some of its bawdiness, they still ‘got’ and appreciated the overarching tone. Same thing with Airplane! (1980). Same thing with Hot Shots! (1991). These are films that clearly knew their target, so it was hard to miss. Mutant Swinger accomplishes much the same – any lover of traditional SciFi might be giddy with delight over its endless caricature – and I hope my two cents here encourage readers to seek out and explore this delightful 90-minute laugher.
Highly recommended.
Because Mutant Swinger From Mars is about as close to a pure comedy as one can get, I’ll caution readers that it won’t be for everyone, though I suspect everyone will find something worth-the-laugh in here. It’s a gloriously demented experience intended especially for lovers of SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror from the Golden Age of Television, but it’s smart and prescient enough to not stop there. I lost count of the in-jokes about halfway through, and you will, too, if you know what’s good for you. This low-budget independent comedy knows just how to hit the gas, sister … and then some.
In the interests of fairness, the fine folks at Rising Sun Media, Inc. provided me with a complimentary streaming link of Mutant Swinger From Mars by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
The sad truth is that Mutant Swinger – like so many of the films it idolizes through mirth – is itself an almost forgotten flick. From information that’s been passed on to me via its publicist, it was filmed some time in the late 1990’s and then just kinda/sorta dropped off the radar, never finding a distributor or outlet for airing. Writer/director Michael Kallio did as industry professionals do and, simply, moved on to other work. (Those bills aren’t gonna pay themselves, am I right?) Still, labors of love do not go away quietly, and – from the looks of its history on IMDB.com – it’s clear that he kept it afloat when opportunities presented themselves, making festival and ComicCon-style appearances for showings.
For what it’s worth, dare I suggest that it’s the kind of film that never truly goes out of style?
Comedy changes – what’s funny today isn’t necessarily what was funny ten, twenty, and thirty years ago – but I’ve always argued that there’s a timelessness to authentic parody. Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein (1974) is the type of motion picture that’ll always have an audience; while the wifey and I noticed some of the Millennials in attendance at a recent screening took issue with some of its bawdiness, they still ‘got’ and appreciated the overarching tone. Same thing with Airplane! (1980). Same thing with Hot Shots! (1991). These are films that clearly knew their target, so it was hard to miss. Mutant Swinger accomplishes much the same – any lover of traditional SciFi might be giddy with delight over its endless caricature – and I hope my two cents here encourage readers to seek out and explore this delightful 90-minute laugher.
Highly recommended.
Because Mutant Swinger From Mars is about as close to a pure comedy as one can get, I’ll caution readers that it won’t be for everyone, though I suspect everyone will find something worth-the-laugh in here. It’s a gloriously demented experience intended especially for lovers of SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror from the Golden Age of Television, but it’s smart and prescient enough to not stop there. I lost count of the in-jokes about halfway through, and you will, too, if you know what’s good for you. This low-budget independent comedy knows just how to hit the gas, sister … and then some.
In the interests of fairness, the fine folks at Rising Sun Media, Inc. provided me with a complimentary streaming link of Mutant Swinger From Mars by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
Happy Friday, you fellow fools!
No, no, no. I didn't take 'May The Fourth' off, peeps. I was here. Faithfully. Plugging away behind the scenes. I've spent the better part of this week actually working on a lot of new Daily Page Citations, trying to get all of them up to 75 tidbits each; and -- as you can imagine -- that's a lot of work, research, typing, blood, sweat, tears, etc. Trust me when I say that it ain't easy being 'the hardest working guy in Science Fiction,' but I persevere, that I do.
Still, like the rest of you and all of general mankind, I did see the new Kenobi trailer that released in celebration of the Fourth. Yes, yes, yes. It was quite fetching, but -- as I've always said -- I'm a bit older than most of you, and trailers just don't excite me all that much any more. (Don't get me wrong: I can appreciate quality craftmanship just as much as the next bloke.) Trailers are designed to maximize your interest -- they're meant to get your blood bumping and your heart racing -- and at my ripe old age I've been disappointed with finished product more often than I care to remember. It's a measured take, it is, so I just don't get revved up by them any more. Think of me what you will.
Besides: trailers rarely give you a sense of story. You might capture hints about the plot. There might even be some grand pronouncement declaring "X will be the villain," and while that's all well and good I really get more involved with stories ... so teasing me just doesn't accomplish much. Anyone whose read even a few of my reviews knows that I do tend to think while I watch, and trailers just don't offer me much by the way of a cerebral exercise.
But because the trailer tickled so many fancies, I thought I'd put it up here today for those of you who may not have seen it. (What? Are you living on a deserted island? Still?) Like I said, it's well done, and for those of you who like those things you should be happy.
No, no, no. I didn't take 'May The Fourth' off, peeps. I was here. Faithfully. Plugging away behind the scenes. I've spent the better part of this week actually working on a lot of new Daily Page Citations, trying to get all of them up to 75 tidbits each; and -- as you can imagine -- that's a lot of work, research, typing, blood, sweat, tears, etc. Trust me when I say that it ain't easy being 'the hardest working guy in Science Fiction,' but I persevere, that I do.
Still, like the rest of you and all of general mankind, I did see the new Kenobi trailer that released in celebration of the Fourth. Yes, yes, yes. It was quite fetching, but -- as I've always said -- I'm a bit older than most of you, and trailers just don't excite me all that much any more. (Don't get me wrong: I can appreciate quality craftmanship just as much as the next bloke.) Trailers are designed to maximize your interest -- they're meant to get your blood bumping and your heart racing -- and at my ripe old age I've been disappointed with finished product more often than I care to remember. It's a measured take, it is, so I just don't get revved up by them any more. Think of me what you will.
Besides: trailers rarely give you a sense of story. You might capture hints about the plot. There might even be some grand pronouncement declaring "X will be the villain," and while that's all well and good I really get more involved with stories ... so teasing me just doesn't accomplish much. Anyone whose read even a few of my reviews knows that I do tend to think while I watch, and trailers just don't offer me much by the way of a cerebral exercise.
But because the trailer tickled so many fancies, I thought I'd put it up here today for those of you who may not have seen it. (What? Are you living on a deserted island? Still?) Like I said, it's well done, and for those of you who like those things you should be happy.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
-- EZ
- Published on
There are several schools of thought about just where the genre of Science Fiction came from.
Some of this debate is owed necessarily to the reality that no two people tend to have the exact same working definition of what truly makes a story legitimate Science Fiction as opposed to Fantasy. (If we can’t agree upon what it even is, then how can we conclude just where and when it began?) For example, book retailers over the years have struggled with housing the works of Kurt Vonnegut in the Science Fiction section largely because most college-level educators consider it – ahem – serious fiction (and they wouldn’t subject their students to something as spurious as SciFi). Still, others take the easy way out of the argument by suggesting any tale prominently involving aliens or spaceships or lasers must most certainly be Science Fiction. Well, that would mean George Lucas’ popular Star Wars is Science Fiction … but even its most ardent fans consider it Space Fantasy.
I don’t wish to wander too deeply into the weeds here, but it matters when talking about a work as seminal as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein: that’s because many literature experts cite the book as the first working example of Science Fiction … while the rest of mankind likely considers it Horror.
See what I mean?
This is why I usually avoid debates … even though I’m fully aware that my take on the 1994 filmed adaptation is likely going to inspire arguments. It’s good – not great, far from it in my eyes – and it likely bears as many scars as its central monster. And much like the beast, it was made that way.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
Some of this debate is owed necessarily to the reality that no two people tend to have the exact same working definition of what truly makes a story legitimate Science Fiction as opposed to Fantasy. (If we can’t agree upon what it even is, then how can we conclude just where and when it began?) For example, book retailers over the years have struggled with housing the works of Kurt Vonnegut in the Science Fiction section largely because most college-level educators consider it – ahem – serious fiction (and they wouldn’t subject their students to something as spurious as SciFi). Still, others take the easy way out of the argument by suggesting any tale prominently involving aliens or spaceships or lasers must most certainly be Science Fiction. Well, that would mean George Lucas’ popular Star Wars is Science Fiction … but even its most ardent fans consider it Space Fantasy.
I don’t wish to wander too deeply into the weeds here, but it matters when talking about a work as seminal as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein: that’s because many literature experts cite the book as the first working example of Science Fiction … while the rest of mankind likely considers it Horror.
See what I mean?
This is why I usually avoid debates … even though I’m fully aware that my take on the 1994 filmed adaptation is likely going to inspire arguments. It’s good – not great, far from it in my eyes – and it likely bears as many scars as its central monster. And much like the beast, it was made that way.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the product packaging:
“At the turn of the 19th century, visionary scientist Victor Frankenstein embarks on an obsessive quest to conquer the mysteries of human mortality. But his hubristic bid to create life out of death goes hideously wrong and succeeds only in begetting a deformed monster. Horrified by what he has wrought, the scientist attempts to destroy his creation, but fails. Rejected by his creator and shunned by the world of man, the tormented creature swears vengeance against Frankenstein and his family. As the monster begins to enact his murderous revenge, Victor must face a terrible reckoning with the tragic consequences of attempting to play God.”
No matter the shape or size, I’m no fan of melodrama. Were I so inclined, I could come up with a litany of reasons to support my disdain for it, but – reaching for as much brevity as I can – I’ll sum it up, simply, this way: it’s forced emotionally storytelling … and I’d much rather come to whatever conclusions I can freely on my own, unencumbered by the insistence of the narrative. You tell a story; I’ll decide how to feel about it.
So …
Branagh’s take on the Shelley novel is to embrace all of its trappings, a myriad of supporting characters, chock them into the bubbling mix, and stir it all up with the heat turned up to full. As a consequence, I’m expected to sit through an awful lot of personal drama – some of it relating directly to where Victor’s motivation stems for vanquishing death (not so much as creating new life) while other moments serve to flesh out what perhaps the director feared might come across as a two-dimensional main character. In fairness, some of that literary stuff is what makes a good novel come to life. By comparison, some of it feels more like elaborate window dressing here … and aren’t there an awful lot of windows to dress?
In doing so, Branagh has created his very own monster.
I just wish this one was more alive.
Because this interpretation involves Victor (played by Branagh), his father (Ian Holm), his beloved Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), his mentor (John Cleese), his schoolmate Henry (Tom Hulce), and his inevitable Monster (Robert De Niro), there’s a wealth of material to cover in ways big and small. Folks who showed up anticipating a contemporary updating of the classic Frankenstein story are likely to be bored silly (up until a point) as this behemoth is a fairly well-spoken do-gooder for much of the film, even adopting a struggling rural family to kinda/sorta call his very own. Alas, it isn’t until very late in the picture that the creator and his ‘created’ find themselves truly at odds, thus robbing an otherwise marquee creature of its most revered trait: his menace.
“At the turn of the 19th century, visionary scientist Victor Frankenstein embarks on an obsessive quest to conquer the mysteries of human mortality. But his hubristic bid to create life out of death goes hideously wrong and succeeds only in begetting a deformed monster. Horrified by what he has wrought, the scientist attempts to destroy his creation, but fails. Rejected by his creator and shunned by the world of man, the tormented creature swears vengeance against Frankenstein and his family. As the monster begins to enact his murderous revenge, Victor must face a terrible reckoning with the tragic consequences of attempting to play God.”
No matter the shape or size, I’m no fan of melodrama. Were I so inclined, I could come up with a litany of reasons to support my disdain for it, but – reaching for as much brevity as I can – I’ll sum it up, simply, this way: it’s forced emotionally storytelling … and I’d much rather come to whatever conclusions I can freely on my own, unencumbered by the insistence of the narrative. You tell a story; I’ll decide how to feel about it.
So …
Branagh’s take on the Shelley novel is to embrace all of its trappings, a myriad of supporting characters, chock them into the bubbling mix, and stir it all up with the heat turned up to full. As a consequence, I’m expected to sit through an awful lot of personal drama – some of it relating directly to where Victor’s motivation stems for vanquishing death (not so much as creating new life) while other moments serve to flesh out what perhaps the director feared might come across as a two-dimensional main character. In fairness, some of that literary stuff is what makes a good novel come to life. By comparison, some of it feels more like elaborate window dressing here … and aren’t there an awful lot of windows to dress?
In doing so, Branagh has created his very own monster.
I just wish this one was more alive.
Because this interpretation involves Victor (played by Branagh), his father (Ian Holm), his beloved Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), his mentor (John Cleese), his schoolmate Henry (Tom Hulce), and his inevitable Monster (Robert De Niro), there’s a wealth of material to cover in ways big and small. Folks who showed up anticipating a contemporary updating of the classic Frankenstein story are likely to be bored silly (up until a point) as this behemoth is a fairly well-spoken do-gooder for much of the film, even adopting a struggling rural family to kinda/sorta call his very own. Alas, it isn’t until very late in the picture that the creator and his ‘created’ find themselves truly at odds, thus robbing an otherwise marquee creature of its most revered trait: his menace.
None of this is to suggest that Branagh and friends have crafted an inferior take on one of literature and filmdom’s most enduring beasts because that would be far from the truth. From start-to-finish, the feature looks fabulous, and I’d be a fool if I didn’t praise the make-up work done to transform critical darling De Niro into a thing with a face only a mother (father?) could love. My criticisms have more to do with the creative choices that went into the story. Far too much effort was put into crafting sequences for maximum aesthetic appeal – including adding characters, including deepening the subtext, including speeches from a very erudite behemoth – and all of that served to bloat an otherwise simple story with excess. Far too little effort went into moving the tale along, and in the end this Frankenstein felt like two pictures – one with a monster, one without – curiously crammed together as one.
But the melodrama never relents.
It begins as a tale of love tarnished by one man’s obsession, and it ends the same way. Had those bookends been the only dalliance with the required tugging on my heartstrings, then I might’ve enjoyed my time with Frank and friends more than I did. Instead, every single character trapped within the opening and closing credits of this motion picture is given his or her own personal tragedy to endure, and I have to hear about it. When you expect me to deal with all of that unnecessary baggage, that makes you the real monster.
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1994) was produced by TriStar Pictures (along with a few others). DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the super-reliable Arrow Video. As for the technical specifications? This Ultra 4K Blu-ray looks and sounds remarkable, though I wonder about the coloring of a few scenes which I found a bit overly dark. As for the special features? As I said, this is Arrow Video, and they rarely (if ever) disappoint! This collection includes an audio commentary; a handful of interviews and critical examinations; trailers; image galleries; and a collector’s booklet with cast information and a brief essay. Are you not entertained?
Mildly Recommended. Though I suspect fans of this particular adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein will flock to support this version along with this release, I’m less inclined if for no other reason than I just find its pacing to be way off the mark. While director Branagh definitely gives in to some lush period detail along with some incredible visual flourishes with the camera, the film still has moments that crawl along much too slowly for my tastes. It’s a faithful reworking – perhaps too faithful – that twists and winds through the main plot along with several supporting ones, and I just didn’t find that all of these secondary yarns added much to the story, pulling attention away from the man and his monster. It’s alive, true, but I didn’t need to feel every single second of it.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Video Films provided me with an Ultra 4K Blu-ray of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
But the melodrama never relents.
It begins as a tale of love tarnished by one man’s obsession, and it ends the same way. Had those bookends been the only dalliance with the required tugging on my heartstrings, then I might’ve enjoyed my time with Frank and friends more than I did. Instead, every single character trapped within the opening and closing credits of this motion picture is given his or her own personal tragedy to endure, and I have to hear about it. When you expect me to deal with all of that unnecessary baggage, that makes you the real monster.
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1994) was produced by TriStar Pictures (along with a few others). DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the super-reliable Arrow Video. As for the technical specifications? This Ultra 4K Blu-ray looks and sounds remarkable, though I wonder about the coloring of a few scenes which I found a bit overly dark. As for the special features? As I said, this is Arrow Video, and they rarely (if ever) disappoint! This collection includes an audio commentary; a handful of interviews and critical examinations; trailers; image galleries; and a collector’s booklet with cast information and a brief essay. Are you not entertained?
Mildly Recommended. Though I suspect fans of this particular adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein will flock to support this version along with this release, I’m less inclined if for no other reason than I just find its pacing to be way off the mark. While director Branagh definitely gives in to some lush period detail along with some incredible visual flourishes with the camera, the film still has moments that crawl along much too slowly for my tastes. It’s a faithful reworking – perhaps too faithful – that twists and winds through the main plot along with several supporting ones, and I just didn’t find that all of these secondary yarns added much to the story, pulling attention away from the man and his monster. It’s alive, true, but I didn’t need to feel every single second of it.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Video Films provided me with an Ultra 4K Blu-ray of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the product packaging:
“Master of macabre Vincent Price breathes life back into one of the vilest villains in his long list of evil-doers! The eminent Dr. Phibes awakens from a decade of suspended animation and heads to Egypt with the corpse of his dead wife, which he intends to resurrect by murdering people in strange and heinous ways to invoke a magical incantation!”
Erm … I don’t really want to get into a case of matching wits with some advertising executive, but – in all honesty – that provided synopsis isn’t really all that accurate. Yes, Dr. Phibes is back in action, but the film very clearly picks up the action three years after the original’s ending. (FYI: it says so in the film’s preamble which rather effective recaps the events of the first picture.) Furthermore, the deaths that are dealt here – while occasionally creative and clever – have absolutely no connection to the good doctor’s mission, which is to revive his wife. Sadly, these dispatches are merely a means to an end, and none of them were required in any substantive way other than to attempt to match the gleeful, gory gratuitousness of The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971), itself a sensation with audiences of its time.
Therein lies by central complaint with the follow-up: was it even necessary?
Commercially? Yes.
Artistically? Meh.
When Abominable faded to black, Phibes and his wife (played by the luminous Caroline Munro) are reunited not so much in a form of death as it is a kind of ‘limbo.’ The script assured us that she died on the operating table, and the audience is shown embalming fluid flowing into his veins as he lies next to her. The final frames saw them sealed up together in one of the screen’s more extravagant crypts, so at the very least audiences were delivered a true horror flick’s conception of just what ‘happily ever after’ might mean. As the sequel opens, it’s revealed that the doctor had always planned for a revival at a time wherein “the stars would be in alignment,” and he could access some supernatural science tied into an Egyptian prophecy involving the ‘River Of Life.’ It’s there in which he believes resurrection of his dearly departed is possible, and thus begins the next chapter of their story. The blood is put back in Phibes’ veins, and voila! He’s back in form!
From the product packaging:
“Master of macabre Vincent Price breathes life back into one of the vilest villains in his long list of evil-doers! The eminent Dr. Phibes awakens from a decade of suspended animation and heads to Egypt with the corpse of his dead wife, which he intends to resurrect by murdering people in strange and heinous ways to invoke a magical incantation!”
Erm … I don’t really want to get into a case of matching wits with some advertising executive, but – in all honesty – that provided synopsis isn’t really all that accurate. Yes, Dr. Phibes is back in action, but the film very clearly picks up the action three years after the original’s ending. (FYI: it says so in the film’s preamble which rather effective recaps the events of the first picture.) Furthermore, the deaths that are dealt here – while occasionally creative and clever – have absolutely no connection to the good doctor’s mission, which is to revive his wife. Sadly, these dispatches are merely a means to an end, and none of them were required in any substantive way other than to attempt to match the gleeful, gory gratuitousness of The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971), itself a sensation with audiences of its time.
Therein lies by central complaint with the follow-up: was it even necessary?
Commercially? Yes.
Artistically? Meh.
When Abominable faded to black, Phibes and his wife (played by the luminous Caroline Munro) are reunited not so much in a form of death as it is a kind of ‘limbo.’ The script assured us that she died on the operating table, and the audience is shown embalming fluid flowing into his veins as he lies next to her. The final frames saw them sealed up together in one of the screen’s more extravagant crypts, so at the very least audiences were delivered a true horror flick’s conception of just what ‘happily ever after’ might mean. As the sequel opens, it’s revealed that the doctor had always planned for a revival at a time wherein “the stars would be in alignment,” and he could access some supernatural science tied into an Egyptian prophecy involving the ‘River Of Life.’ It’s there in which he believes resurrection of his dearly departed is possible, and thus begins the next chapter of their story. The blood is put back in Phibes’ veins, and voila! He’s back in form!
However, writer/director Robert Fuest’s script tosses every other semblance of logic out the window in order to weave this dastardly tapestry the way he does. For example, Phibes’ assistant Vulnavia was shown perished under an acid bath in the first film’s conclusion; here – with no explanation provided whatsoever – she’s back in the doctor’s employ as lovely as ever (though played by a different actress). Granted, I’m not suggesting everything in Abominable was tied up factually; but it had rules that the script followed rather faithfully. Here, Vulnavia’s return from nowhere really needed some exposition, yet none was provided.
Furthermore, our introduction to Phibes and his murderous genius was that each death was accomplished with some underlying reasoning (along with some bizarre methodology). These were the very people who had either directly or indirectly participated in his wife’s demise, so our tortured hero sought a form of vengeance whether it was deserved or not. But the sequel abandons all of what made Phibes and his actions a marvel to behold and, instead, simply has him dispatching anyone who gets in his way no matter what. While the deaths are still accomplished in typical surreal fashion, there’s very little personal motivation behind them, thus robbing our villain of any code of ethics. Here, he kills because … well … it’s just neat and well-designed.
Aesthetically, there are still effective membranes which tie these two films together. (Do just a smidgeon of research, and you’ll likely find links to ideas openly discussed for a third film that might’ve tied all of them together had that production ever come to light.) View them back-to-back, and it’s undeniable that they benefit equally from lush set design, perhaps some of the best period detail one might see in a Horror film of the early 1970’s. While other Horror properties were going a bit dark and gritty, the Phibes experience almost charted a course directly opposite; and perhaps that’s why they’ve gained a cult audience and stood the test of time. Beyond the familiarity of returning cast members, Rises affectionately attempts to further a mythology established with these characters and situations; I’m simply arguing here that this outing is vastly inferior in the way its narrative goes about its business.
Furthermore, our introduction to Phibes and his murderous genius was that each death was accomplished with some underlying reasoning (along with some bizarre methodology). These were the very people who had either directly or indirectly participated in his wife’s demise, so our tortured hero sought a form of vengeance whether it was deserved or not. But the sequel abandons all of what made Phibes and his actions a marvel to behold and, instead, simply has him dispatching anyone who gets in his way no matter what. While the deaths are still accomplished in typical surreal fashion, there’s very little personal motivation behind them, thus robbing our villain of any code of ethics. Here, he kills because … well … it’s just neat and well-designed.
Aesthetically, there are still effective membranes which tie these two films together. (Do just a smidgeon of research, and you’ll likely find links to ideas openly discussed for a third film that might’ve tied all of them together had that production ever come to light.) View them back-to-back, and it’s undeniable that they benefit equally from lush set design, perhaps some of the best period detail one might see in a Horror film of the early 1970’s. While other Horror properties were going a bit dark and gritty, the Phibes experience almost charted a course directly opposite; and perhaps that’s why they’ve gained a cult audience and stood the test of time. Beyond the familiarity of returning cast members, Rises affectionately attempts to further a mythology established with these characters and situations; I’m simply arguing here that this outing is vastly inferior in the way its narrative goes about its business.
Perhaps the flick’s biggest saving grace is that our ‘protagonist’ this time is given a reasonable ‘antagonist’; though Inspector Trout (Peter Jeffrey) and Superintendent Waverly (John Cater) return to investigative duty, audiences are introduced to the character of Darius Biederbeck (John Quarry), a dashing playboy who has somehow managed to elude death. (It becomes easy to think of him and the doctor as two sides of the same coin.) As fate (and a script) would have it, the man has run out of his magical elixir, putting him in a race to uncover the same River Of Life as well as launching him on a trajectory that’ll inevitably cross paths with Phibes. This construct – that of evil facing off against another evil – salvages some of the script’s most obvious plotholes; and it actually gives the film a reprieve in the final reel when our adversaries clash in an inevitable showdown of wits.
Sadly, it comes a little too late, but Phibes and Biederbeck prove a compelling pair with almost enough gravitas to pull off an otherwise dubious affair.
Dr. Phibes Rises Again! (1972) was produced by Amicus Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by Kino Lorber. (Indeed, this was part of a 2022 Robert Fuest Double Feature collection.) As for the technical specifications? The film’s various sights and sounds look very good. As for the special features? There are two separate commentary tracks – one from author Justin Humphreys and one from film historian Tim Lucas; both a quite good, though I’ll admit I was more captivated by Lucas’ contributions and reflections than I was by Humphreys. I couldn’t say why this was with any degree of specificity; I just found his presentation a bit more engaging. It is what it is.
Mildly recommended. Sigh. Dr. Phibes Rises Again! is a film kinda/sorta difficult to review because it’s an inferior sequel that didn’t need to be (inferior, that is). Writer/director Fuest was encouraged by the studio to cash in on the first one’s property; and, in doing so, he delivers a film that nearly completely misunderstood what made the original such a pleasure. (Yes, I’m aware that other hands were at work in the final edit, but Fuest’s script still poses some divergence from Phibes’ charming origin picture.) This might be one of cinema’s chief exhibits about how too much of a good thing ends up being a bad thing at that. It had real potential but never quite connects in any meaningful way, though the showdown between its two heavies showed great promise. Perhaps the scripted but never filmed third film could’ve been a return to form … yet, alas, we’ll never know.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Dr. Phibes Rises Again! (1972) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Sadly, it comes a little too late, but Phibes and Biederbeck prove a compelling pair with almost enough gravitas to pull off an otherwise dubious affair.
Dr. Phibes Rises Again! (1972) was produced by Amicus Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by Kino Lorber. (Indeed, this was part of a 2022 Robert Fuest Double Feature collection.) As for the technical specifications? The film’s various sights and sounds look very good. As for the special features? There are two separate commentary tracks – one from author Justin Humphreys and one from film historian Tim Lucas; both a quite good, though I’ll admit I was more captivated by Lucas’ contributions and reflections than I was by Humphreys. I couldn’t say why this was with any degree of specificity; I just found his presentation a bit more engaging. It is what it is.
Mildly recommended. Sigh. Dr. Phibes Rises Again! is a film kinda/sorta difficult to review because it’s an inferior sequel that didn’t need to be (inferior, that is). Writer/director Fuest was encouraged by the studio to cash in on the first one’s property; and, in doing so, he delivers a film that nearly completely misunderstood what made the original such a pleasure. (Yes, I’m aware that other hands were at work in the final edit, but Fuest’s script still poses some divergence from Phibes’ charming origin picture.) This might be one of cinema’s chief exhibits about how too much of a good thing ends up being a bad thing at that. It had real potential but never quite connects in any meaningful way, though the showdown between its two heavies showed great promise. Perhaps the scripted but never filmed third film could’ve been a return to form … yet, alas, we’ll never know.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Kino Lorber provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Dr. Phibes Rises Again! (1972) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
In all fairness, I realize that a name like David Birney certainly isn't one that come up all that much when one is talking about Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror.
Heck, even as entertainment industry business gets discussed these days, his likely isn't a name that comes up all that much. IMDB.com reports that his last screen role was sometime in 2007, and I would suspect that he's enjoyed a bit of retirement from the limelight. Still, his was a face I recall from my time before the TV set in the 1970's and 1980's -- that's without question -- when he was a frequent guest appearances on many a program, genre and beyond.
But as those genre appearances go?
The 1972-73 television season had one of those single-season programs called Circle Of Fear. IMDB.com reports that it was primarily a mystery program, but the series' synopsis indicates that the dramas largely incorporated supernatural experiences ... so that would definitely fit the bill. He appeared in an episode titled "The New House" which focused on a couple moving into a home haunted by a young girl whose ghost refused to leave. This was the show's pilot episode.
A few years later -- with an awful lot of conventional appearances in between -- Birney enjoyed another guest spot in yet another anthology program: Tales Of The Unexpected showcased some TV dramas that also dabbled in Science Fiction, Horror, and Fantasy. For this program, Birney headlined an episode titled "The Nomads," a yarn featuring a troubled Vietnam vet who stumbles across a broader alien conspiracy.
1986 saw the actor turn up in yet one more anthology program -- the mid-1980's reincarnation of Rod Serling's popular The Twilight Zone for CBS. A decade later, he took over the voice of 'Anakin Skywalker' in the National Public Radio adaptation of Star Wars: Return Of The Jedi. In 1998, he turned up in episodes of Sliders and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. And his last genre role was aboard an episode of the curious Poltergeist: The Legacy, a supernatural procedural that aired in television syndication.
Alas, none of us last forever, and word reached us this morning that he's passed away.
Thoughts and prayers are extended to the family and friends of David Birney.
-- EZ
Heck, even as entertainment industry business gets discussed these days, his likely isn't a name that comes up all that much. IMDB.com reports that his last screen role was sometime in 2007, and I would suspect that he's enjoyed a bit of retirement from the limelight. Still, his was a face I recall from my time before the TV set in the 1970's and 1980's -- that's without question -- when he was a frequent guest appearances on many a program, genre and beyond.
But as those genre appearances go?
The 1972-73 television season had one of those single-season programs called Circle Of Fear. IMDB.com reports that it was primarily a mystery program, but the series' synopsis indicates that the dramas largely incorporated supernatural experiences ... so that would definitely fit the bill. He appeared in an episode titled "The New House" which focused on a couple moving into a home haunted by a young girl whose ghost refused to leave. This was the show's pilot episode.
A few years later -- with an awful lot of conventional appearances in between -- Birney enjoyed another guest spot in yet another anthology program: Tales Of The Unexpected showcased some TV dramas that also dabbled in Science Fiction, Horror, and Fantasy. For this program, Birney headlined an episode titled "The Nomads," a yarn featuring a troubled Vietnam vet who stumbles across a broader alien conspiracy.
1986 saw the actor turn up in yet one more anthology program -- the mid-1980's reincarnation of Rod Serling's popular The Twilight Zone for CBS. A decade later, he took over the voice of 'Anakin Skywalker' in the National Public Radio adaptation of Star Wars: Return Of The Jedi. In 1998, he turned up in episodes of Sliders and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. And his last genre role was aboard an episode of the curious Poltergeist: The Legacy, a supernatural procedural that aired in television syndication.
Alas, none of us last forever, and word reached us this morning that he's passed away.
Thoughts and prayers are extended to the family and friends of David Birney.
-- EZ
- Published on
Yowza!
As I've always said 'round theses parts, my eventual goal is to have each and every calendar day of the year highlighting a minimum of one hundred different SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror citations ... be they birthdays, anniversaries, etc. I sat out on this journey knowing full well that it was an ambitious journey, but the thing I've not done is to celebrate some of the 'baby steps' necessary to get to that level of excellence. And anyone who knows beans about motivation knows you have to celebrate achievements along the way, mostly because otherwise they go unmentioned.
So I'm thrilled to announce that May 2nd now has an incredible 75 different citations.
For those who read here regularly, that's what the TRON Lightcycle headings mean -- that I've achieved a minimum of 75 different citations for the day. Those headings are a great way for me to know -- at a glance -- how far I've come as well as maintaining a pulse on the journey still ahead. I've occasionally shared that info with readings -- I really do need to make a post that clarifies all of the unique headings I've created and am still using (they've changed a bit over the years), but consider yourself informed for today.
So, by all means, join in the celebration, readers!
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
As I've always said 'round theses parts, my eventual goal is to have each and every calendar day of the year highlighting a minimum of one hundred different SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror citations ... be they birthdays, anniversaries, etc. I sat out on this journey knowing full well that it was an ambitious journey, but the thing I've not done is to celebrate some of the 'baby steps' necessary to get to that level of excellence. And anyone who knows beans about motivation knows you have to celebrate achievements along the way, mostly because otherwise they go unmentioned.
So I'm thrilled to announce that May 2nd now has an incredible 75 different citations.
For those who read here regularly, that's what the TRON Lightcycle headings mean -- that I've achieved a minimum of 75 different citations for the day. Those headings are a great way for me to know -- at a glance -- how far I've come as well as maintaining a pulse on the journey still ahead. I've occasionally shared that info with readings -- I really do need to make a post that clarifies all of the unique headings I've created and am still using (they've changed a bit over the years), but consider yourself informed for today.
So, by all means, join in the celebration, readers!
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
Stardate 05.02.2022.B: Fear, Grief, And Rabbit Holes - A review Of Outer Range's "The Soil" (S01E05)
It’s often been said that there are really only two motivators in life: fear and grief.
Fear hits us right in the face. It’s the up-close-and-personal kind of motivation that pushes us sometimes to even the direst actions. Often times, the immediacy of it will make us consider a choice we might otherwise logically abandon, and we’ll likely regret what we did – if even only in the smallest way – once calmer winds prevail.
Grief, in contrast, typically hits us in ways we don’t anticipate. It’s the slow-burn effect, the rumination of time, life, and circumstance that can carry us through the darkest of times. We begin to reflect – sometimes too much so – and we weigh the decisions in front of us against the substance of our own mortality. The desire is to bring us a new peace, one that returns hope to our short- and long-term existence.
Outer Range’s “The Soil” – its first installment – is a bit of an oddity. (In fact, I’ll admit to having to watch this one twice in order to make whatever peace I could with it.) Soil is typically something we associate strongly with life and death – culturally, we both plant new seeds and bury loved ones beneath the soil – and, thus, the episode is clearly fixated on that curious cycle of life in ways that perhaps require a closer look.
The hour was scripted by creator Brian Watkins along with writers Naledi Jackson and Dominic Orlando; and the bulk of it kinda/sorta sidelines Royal (played by Josh Brolin) as he’s hellbent off on a mission to find his own answers to fear, grief, and rabbit holes. (Don’t fret none: he’ll be back for the show’s final moments in a big way.) Instead, the remaining players of the ensemble get to experience their own highs and lows after Wayne Tillerson (Will Patton) returns home – triumphant – only to lapse into what we’re told is a stroke. (FYI: the previous episode closed with the rancher overpowering Royal – a puzzling development, indeed, given the man’s precarious health to begin with, but that’s the way it was scripted.)
In the aftermath, Royal sleeps the sleep of dreams, in which he’s delivered a message from the late Trevor Tillerson; and that pushes him to head off in search of those aforementioned answers. What he learns essentially ties him back to his trip down that infamous hole in the west pasture in which he was treated to a look at the future … and I’m starting to suspect this isn’t the man’s first time either in or out of that space. Clearly, he’s fearful of it, and he’s doing everything he can to keep the reality of its existence from his family; that suggests (to me, at least) that this man without a clear background might very well have come from not so much some other place as it was another time.
In any event, “The Soil” spends a great deal of time in the life of Cecilia Abbott (Lily Taylor). Though the previous episodes have largely hinted at her current crisis of faith, we’re shown just how personal its grown. She’s no longer certain what to make of her God and her husband (much less her sons), and the ladies of the congregation recognize this predicament and ‘lay hands’ on her in prayer. Everything that has served as an anchor for her up to this point has been shattered, and Cece fights against the spiritual and emotional tide tugging her away.
Fear hits us right in the face. It’s the up-close-and-personal kind of motivation that pushes us sometimes to even the direst actions. Often times, the immediacy of it will make us consider a choice we might otherwise logically abandon, and we’ll likely regret what we did – if even only in the smallest way – once calmer winds prevail.
Grief, in contrast, typically hits us in ways we don’t anticipate. It’s the slow-burn effect, the rumination of time, life, and circumstance that can carry us through the darkest of times. We begin to reflect – sometimes too much so – and we weigh the decisions in front of us against the substance of our own mortality. The desire is to bring us a new peace, one that returns hope to our short- and long-term existence.
Outer Range’s “The Soil” – its first installment – is a bit of an oddity. (In fact, I’ll admit to having to watch this one twice in order to make whatever peace I could with it.) Soil is typically something we associate strongly with life and death – culturally, we both plant new seeds and bury loved ones beneath the soil – and, thus, the episode is clearly fixated on that curious cycle of life in ways that perhaps require a closer look.
The hour was scripted by creator Brian Watkins along with writers Naledi Jackson and Dominic Orlando; and the bulk of it kinda/sorta sidelines Royal (played by Josh Brolin) as he’s hellbent off on a mission to find his own answers to fear, grief, and rabbit holes. (Don’t fret none: he’ll be back for the show’s final moments in a big way.) Instead, the remaining players of the ensemble get to experience their own highs and lows after Wayne Tillerson (Will Patton) returns home – triumphant – only to lapse into what we’re told is a stroke. (FYI: the previous episode closed with the rancher overpowering Royal – a puzzling development, indeed, given the man’s precarious health to begin with, but that’s the way it was scripted.)
In the aftermath, Royal sleeps the sleep of dreams, in which he’s delivered a message from the late Trevor Tillerson; and that pushes him to head off in search of those aforementioned answers. What he learns essentially ties him back to his trip down that infamous hole in the west pasture in which he was treated to a look at the future … and I’m starting to suspect this isn’t the man’s first time either in or out of that space. Clearly, he’s fearful of it, and he’s doing everything he can to keep the reality of its existence from his family; that suggests (to me, at least) that this man without a clear background might very well have come from not so much some other place as it was another time.
In any event, “The Soil” spends a great deal of time in the life of Cecilia Abbott (Lily Taylor). Though the previous episodes have largely hinted at her current crisis of faith, we’re shown just how personal its grown. She’s no longer certain what to make of her God and her husband (much less her sons), and the ladies of the congregation recognize this predicament and ‘lay hands’ on her in prayer. Everything that has served as an anchor for her up to this point has been shattered, and Cece fights against the spiritual and emotional tide tugging her away.
As for her sons?
Perry (Tom Pelphrey) is revealed as a closeted headbanger after a spirited conversation with Autumn (Imogen Poots) as they make their way to a nearby tavern featuring a metal band. After a bit of time losing themselves to the music, this unlikely pair end up sitting under the peace and quiet of the night sky, and Perry shares with her what happened the night Rebecca (his wife) vanished. At this point, the mysterious Autumn – she clearly knows more about what’s going on in this place than she lets on – suggests to him that the young woman’s disappearance might be part of something much larger, implying that her absence was needed, though we’re never told by who.
Rhett (Lewis Pullman) continues to push himself away from the safety of family, instead finding a bit of needed attention in the arms of Maria Olivares (Isabel Arraiza). They finally consummate their relationship (despite her obvious pushback from earlier developments) in what might be the fellow’s only real escape from reality to this point in the story. We’ve yet to see if he has the right stuff to make it elsewhere with his rodeo bid, though it’s hinted at that the championship contest is just on the horizon.
Lo and behold, Royal finally returns home, well after the sun’s gone down. He marches to the barn and angrily cracks open Autumn’s necklace, the very trinket he won from her in last episode’s fateful poker match. Inside, he finds ‘the soil,’ rubs it on his hands, and is treated to yet another vision of the future: this time, he sees himself lying on the floor of the barn – seemingly dead – in the arms of his wife. Sitting on the ground beside them is Autumn … but, as it turns out, she can see Royal’s transcendental self standing there watching them! When she stands and speaks to him, the spell is broken, and the rancher finds himself back in the dark of an empty barn as the credits roll.
As I said in the opening to this review, it’s an hour I found a bit empty on first viewing. Watching it again forced me to see some of the smaller moments were clearly adding up to the various subplots; but the biggest reveal for me was Royal’s increasing desperation. Clearly, he knows more about these events than we, the audience have been told (as does Autumn); and I suspect that’s where the show might be pulling its own sleight of hand. Could it be that he’s from a place only the hole can show us?
We’ll only know in time.
Perry (Tom Pelphrey) is revealed as a closeted headbanger after a spirited conversation with Autumn (Imogen Poots) as they make their way to a nearby tavern featuring a metal band. After a bit of time losing themselves to the music, this unlikely pair end up sitting under the peace and quiet of the night sky, and Perry shares with her what happened the night Rebecca (his wife) vanished. At this point, the mysterious Autumn – she clearly knows more about what’s going on in this place than she lets on – suggests to him that the young woman’s disappearance might be part of something much larger, implying that her absence was needed, though we’re never told by who.
Rhett (Lewis Pullman) continues to push himself away from the safety of family, instead finding a bit of needed attention in the arms of Maria Olivares (Isabel Arraiza). They finally consummate their relationship (despite her obvious pushback from earlier developments) in what might be the fellow’s only real escape from reality to this point in the story. We’ve yet to see if he has the right stuff to make it elsewhere with his rodeo bid, though it’s hinted at that the championship contest is just on the horizon.
Lo and behold, Royal finally returns home, well after the sun’s gone down. He marches to the barn and angrily cracks open Autumn’s necklace, the very trinket he won from her in last episode’s fateful poker match. Inside, he finds ‘the soil,’ rubs it on his hands, and is treated to yet another vision of the future: this time, he sees himself lying on the floor of the barn – seemingly dead – in the arms of his wife. Sitting on the ground beside them is Autumn … but, as it turns out, she can see Royal’s transcendental self standing there watching them! When she stands and speaks to him, the spell is broken, and the rancher finds himself back in the dark of an empty barn as the credits roll.
As I said in the opening to this review, it’s an hour I found a bit empty on first viewing. Watching it again forced me to see some of the smaller moments were clearly adding up to the various subplots; but the biggest reveal for me was Royal’s increasing desperation. Clearly, he knows more about these events than we, the audience have been told (as does Autumn); and I suspect that’s where the show might be pulling its own sleight of hand. Could it be that he’s from a place only the hole can show us?
We’ll only know in time.
- Published on
Well, I guess it was bound to happen.
In these occasionally smaller featurette articles I pen titled "Because You Asked," I do try to address smaller issues -- related to genre but sometimes in lesser ways -- that might come across my desk. And because I'd recently addressed the issue involving Will Smith and Chris Rock at the Oscars (link) a casual fan wanted to know what I thought about the whole Johnny Depp and Amber Heard fiasco. We had a brief back-and-forth via email -- I needed to clarify why the reader thought this involved SciFi and/or Fantasy, and I wanted to make sure it was a legitimate query -- so I figured I'd put-up-or-shut-up a few words in this space.
To be as specific as possible, my take on the Smith/Rock affair really was trying to push back against what I felt was some weird politicizing of it. Ultimately, I felt that folks were using it to push an agenda about how Rock got what he deserved for delivering what may or may not have been an inappropriate joke, so I spoke up on that point. As to whether or not it was all deserved? Pffft. I don't know, and I don't care. I just didn't see it as an indictment regarding free speech, so I did my part to throw a monkey wrench into that dialogue.
Because these two actors do have a presence in genre entertainment (he in a whole lot of projects and her in the Aquaman franchise), I suppose it's legitimate to sound off ... but, again, I don't feel any major attachment to either of them for what they've done in any of their films. I realize that Depp has a following -- I think it's probably dipped somewhat over the years -- and perhaps he's deserving a bit of a respite from all of the bad publicity ... and, still, those things really don't involve me, you, or anyone else but Depp.
Don't get me wrong: I'm not saying he earned this. I feel for him and what he's going through.
This is the consequence of decisions he's made, at least in part. It's sad, yes, but they're private lives don't involve you or me, so I do try to leave those things out of what I cover on SciFiHistory.Net. I know other sites will dabble in this stuff -- I think they do so largely because it gives them clicks and whatnot -- but the most I do is the occasional barb thrown into the Daily Pages when I might dunk a bit on an actor for his politics or on an actress for a curious choice she's made. Their private lives? That's their stuff. That requires their attention. It neither involves nor interests me.
As a consequence, I really haven't followed this court case. Sure, I've read some headlines, and I listened to a few snippets of testimony that made the rounds on the Information Superhighway. It's funny, in some respects, and it's certainly salacious. But bad relationships have been a part and parcel of Hollywood and beyond since the dawn of Man, so I take it all in with a grain of salt.
I suppose -- if I had to express an opinion -- I'd conclude that both of them made some bad decisions, both of them reacted poorly, and both of them probably have a bit of shame of their faces over this coming out publicly the way it did. While it's no tragedy, per se, I do think that we as a society could spend our time on vastly more interesting things -- I'm not sure what lessons can be learned from all of their dirty laundry (including the crap-stained pillows) except to say that whom you love is an important decision, kids.
Wouldn't we be much better off reading a book than following this travesty?
And, no, I'm not talking about the inevitable novelization of the entire trial ...
It is what it is. I'd say more about it, if I really cared that much.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
In these occasionally smaller featurette articles I pen titled "Because You Asked," I do try to address smaller issues -- related to genre but sometimes in lesser ways -- that might come across my desk. And because I'd recently addressed the issue involving Will Smith and Chris Rock at the Oscars (link) a casual fan wanted to know what I thought about the whole Johnny Depp and Amber Heard fiasco. We had a brief back-and-forth via email -- I needed to clarify why the reader thought this involved SciFi and/or Fantasy, and I wanted to make sure it was a legitimate query -- so I figured I'd put-up-or-shut-up a few words in this space.
To be as specific as possible, my take on the Smith/Rock affair really was trying to push back against what I felt was some weird politicizing of it. Ultimately, I felt that folks were using it to push an agenda about how Rock got what he deserved for delivering what may or may not have been an inappropriate joke, so I spoke up on that point. As to whether or not it was all deserved? Pffft. I don't know, and I don't care. I just didn't see it as an indictment regarding free speech, so I did my part to throw a monkey wrench into that dialogue.
Because these two actors do have a presence in genre entertainment (he in a whole lot of projects and her in the Aquaman franchise), I suppose it's legitimate to sound off ... but, again, I don't feel any major attachment to either of them for what they've done in any of their films. I realize that Depp has a following -- I think it's probably dipped somewhat over the years -- and perhaps he's deserving a bit of a respite from all of the bad publicity ... and, still, those things really don't involve me, you, or anyone else but Depp.
Don't get me wrong: I'm not saying he earned this. I feel for him and what he's going through.
This is the consequence of decisions he's made, at least in part. It's sad, yes, but they're private lives don't involve you or me, so I do try to leave those things out of what I cover on SciFiHistory.Net. I know other sites will dabble in this stuff -- I think they do so largely because it gives them clicks and whatnot -- but the most I do is the occasional barb thrown into the Daily Pages when I might dunk a bit on an actor for his politics or on an actress for a curious choice she's made. Their private lives? That's their stuff. That requires their attention. It neither involves nor interests me.
As a consequence, I really haven't followed this court case. Sure, I've read some headlines, and I listened to a few snippets of testimony that made the rounds on the Information Superhighway. It's funny, in some respects, and it's certainly salacious. But bad relationships have been a part and parcel of Hollywood and beyond since the dawn of Man, so I take it all in with a grain of salt.
I suppose -- if I had to express an opinion -- I'd conclude that both of them made some bad decisions, both of them reacted poorly, and both of them probably have a bit of shame of their faces over this coming out publicly the way it did. While it's no tragedy, per se, I do think that we as a society could spend our time on vastly more interesting things -- I'm not sure what lessons can be learned from all of their dirty laundry (including the crap-stained pillows) except to say that whom you love is an important decision, kids.
Wouldn't we be much better off reading a book than following this travesty?
And, no, I'm not talking about the inevitable novelization of the entire trial ...
It is what it is. I'd say more about it, if I really cared that much.
As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
Crafting a season-long mystery requires delicate balance. Delicate balance, indeed.
Reveals have to be carefully staged, and they should both serve the narrative as well as obviously increase the show’s popularity. (Serialized television is still a business, after all.) In the process, characters cannot be ignored: one or two may need to be shelved for a bit, but the relevant ones need to have their time in the limelight as well. While it’s important to keep pushing the mythology (as it develops), audiences hate to get bogged down with unnecessary exposition, especially when and if serves no understandable purpose. The truth is viewers are very kind: we’ll suspend disbelief so long as we trust you’re taking us somewhere special. But it has to be somewhere special. And they better not all be dead when we get there.
Like baking a good cake, the baker must include the proper ingredients in all the right measures, lest he (or she) be willing to simply chuck it all out at any point and start all over.
That said, I thought “The Loss” – episode four to Outer Range’s first season – was more than a bit muddled. Or should I say ‘underdone’?
Hear me out, haters. (I said what I said, and I’m not sorry.)
Being fair, the program has dealt with a reasonable amount of set-up. Showrunner Brian Watkins (along with screenwriter Zev Borow) has introduced a good-sized cast, and he’s rather deftly managed to give each of them his or her own ‘corner’ of this world. (If there’s anyone who hasn’t been clearly established in my eyes, then it’s the youngest player – Amy Abbott – but I’ll get to that in a moment.) These people have been given their ‘beats’ and backstories that help viewers define them, what they stand for, and what purpose they may serve in this grand puzzle. We’ve seen how they fit in with one another, and we’ve been set on a trajectory wherein we can both recognize and maybe even anticipate how they’ll inevitably collide and conflict with one another. It may not have always been perfect, but it’s been exceedingly well done. So … hats off!
“The Loss,” by comparison, covers an awful lot of ground … so it’s a good thing there’s so much land available (pun intended).
Audiences are introduced to Patricia Tillerson (played by Deirdre O’Connell) – the matriarch of the opposing ranch family – and she’s given the dramatic ‘first blush’ only a true mover-and-shaker has earned: she’s whisked in by helicopter to deal with the unexpected loss of her son. In the scope of this sixty-minute episode, she essentially takes charge of the Tillerson narrative, damn near usurping the law’s authority involving the investigation and pronouncing one of the Abbott’s as being guilty at the near immediate funeral. (Erm … didn’t we just find this body?) For a show that’s established itself as a slow burn, we’re suddenly sprouting flames everywhere as “The Loss” continues to pile on these develops with no rest for the wicked.
And about that funeral?
Reveals have to be carefully staged, and they should both serve the narrative as well as obviously increase the show’s popularity. (Serialized television is still a business, after all.) In the process, characters cannot be ignored: one or two may need to be shelved for a bit, but the relevant ones need to have their time in the limelight as well. While it’s important to keep pushing the mythology (as it develops), audiences hate to get bogged down with unnecessary exposition, especially when and if serves no understandable purpose. The truth is viewers are very kind: we’ll suspend disbelief so long as we trust you’re taking us somewhere special. But it has to be somewhere special. And they better not all be dead when we get there.
Like baking a good cake, the baker must include the proper ingredients in all the right measures, lest he (or she) be willing to simply chuck it all out at any point and start all over.
That said, I thought “The Loss” – episode four to Outer Range’s first season – was more than a bit muddled. Or should I say ‘underdone’?
Hear me out, haters. (I said what I said, and I’m not sorry.)
Being fair, the program has dealt with a reasonable amount of set-up. Showrunner Brian Watkins (along with screenwriter Zev Borow) has introduced a good-sized cast, and he’s rather deftly managed to give each of them his or her own ‘corner’ of this world. (If there’s anyone who hasn’t been clearly established in my eyes, then it’s the youngest player – Amy Abbott – but I’ll get to that in a moment.) These people have been given their ‘beats’ and backstories that help viewers define them, what they stand for, and what purpose they may serve in this grand puzzle. We’ve seen how they fit in with one another, and we’ve been set on a trajectory wherein we can both recognize and maybe even anticipate how they’ll inevitably collide and conflict with one another. It may not have always been perfect, but it’s been exceedingly well done. So … hats off!
“The Loss,” by comparison, covers an awful lot of ground … so it’s a good thing there’s so much land available (pun intended).
Audiences are introduced to Patricia Tillerson (played by Deirdre O’Connell) – the matriarch of the opposing ranch family – and she’s given the dramatic ‘first blush’ only a true mover-and-shaker has earned: she’s whisked in by helicopter to deal with the unexpected loss of her son. In the scope of this sixty-minute episode, she essentially takes charge of the Tillerson narrative, damn near usurping the law’s authority involving the investigation and pronouncing one of the Abbott’s as being guilty at the near immediate funeral. (Erm … didn’t we just find this body?) For a show that’s established itself as a slow burn, we’re suddenly sprouting flames everywhere as “The Loss” continues to pile on these develops with no rest for the wicked.
And about that funeral?
Outer Range is clearly a show about characters with ‘quirks,’ as opposed to one with ‘quirky characters.’ Each has their respective hang-ups, but the Tillerson family now appears to be overloaded with extras from Twin Peaks. The funeral scene (by itself) felt reminiscent of the same scene involving Laura Palmer’s burial, wherein the ridiculously overcome with grief Leland Palmer leapt onto the lowering casket, seemingly hoping to go into the afterlife with his dearly departed daughter. Billy Tillerson uses the public affair to stage his own karaoke performance while his family watches on without so much as batting an eyelash. While it was a bit delirious, it defied a bit of reserve the program has shown up until this point.
And so long as we’re throwing subtlety out the window?
Viewers are treated to Royal Abbott and Autumn Rivers facing-off yet again – this time over poker – (didn’t they just make peace in Episode 3?) as the tension in their relationship continues to boil over. (Seriously, I thought they made peace.) Royal risks it all (or does he?) in one hand of the game in order to obtain a crystal the young lady wears around her neck; the significance of the piece remains understandably elusive … but it’s a development that unlike their other confrontations has finally felt more than a bit ‘staged’ in more ways than one. The show’s been a bit more nuanced about its interactions up until this date: “The Loss” – perhaps spurred by the hour’s central loss – ladles it on rather heavily and not without a bit of excess.
Still, O’Connell’s screen-chewing introduction serves as a high point in an otherwise clumsy affair.
But as this mystery evolves, I can’t help but wonder why Amy has been pushed to the background. Though I could be wrong, I’m starting to wonder if her fate might be tied a bit more closely to Autumn than has been suggested … that perhaps they’re the same person?
There have been plenty of indications that the Abbott’s hole-in-the-ground is a portal to different times.
For those not paying as close attention, Royal’s journey through tossed him two years into the future (or, at least, that’s what was said, so I’m inclined to believe it). Could it be possible that a trip through might go the other way? Into the past? We’ve also been treated to sights of the wandering buffalo (bison?) simply lolling around the plains with arrows from Native Indians stuck in its hide, which leads me to believe the past can come into the present. (Episode 3 also explored this idea with the story involving the mastodon.) So … could Autumn actually be Amy? Could Amy have been thrown into the past – say ten or so years – only to eventually make her way back to the ranch as the young adult Autumn? It would possibly explain why her background is a mystery: she could be concealing it for reasons we simply cannot yet know.
Though “The Loss” was fun, perhaps giving the cast and characters the chance to blow off a bit of steam, maybe even let their hair down, I’m hoping for a return to form next week. I’m okay with a bit of eccentricity, but ‘weirdness for weirdness sake’ has its storytelling limitations.
-- EZ
And so long as we’re throwing subtlety out the window?
Viewers are treated to Royal Abbott and Autumn Rivers facing-off yet again – this time over poker – (didn’t they just make peace in Episode 3?) as the tension in their relationship continues to boil over. (Seriously, I thought they made peace.) Royal risks it all (or does he?) in one hand of the game in order to obtain a crystal the young lady wears around her neck; the significance of the piece remains understandably elusive … but it’s a development that unlike their other confrontations has finally felt more than a bit ‘staged’ in more ways than one. The show’s been a bit more nuanced about its interactions up until this date: “The Loss” – perhaps spurred by the hour’s central loss – ladles it on rather heavily and not without a bit of excess.
Still, O’Connell’s screen-chewing introduction serves as a high point in an otherwise clumsy affair.
But as this mystery evolves, I can’t help but wonder why Amy has been pushed to the background. Though I could be wrong, I’m starting to wonder if her fate might be tied a bit more closely to Autumn than has been suggested … that perhaps they’re the same person?
There have been plenty of indications that the Abbott’s hole-in-the-ground is a portal to different times.
For those not paying as close attention, Royal’s journey through tossed him two years into the future (or, at least, that’s what was said, so I’m inclined to believe it). Could it be possible that a trip through might go the other way? Into the past? We’ve also been treated to sights of the wandering buffalo (bison?) simply lolling around the plains with arrows from Native Indians stuck in its hide, which leads me to believe the past can come into the present. (Episode 3 also explored this idea with the story involving the mastodon.) So … could Autumn actually be Amy? Could Amy have been thrown into the past – say ten or so years – only to eventually make her way back to the ranch as the young adult Autumn? It would possibly explain why her background is a mystery: she could be concealing it for reasons we simply cannot yet know.
Though “The Loss” was fun, perhaps giving the cast and characters the chance to blow off a bit of steam, maybe even let their hair down, I’m hoping for a return to form next week. I’m okay with a bit of eccentricity, but ‘weirdness for weirdness sake’ has its storytelling limitations.
-- EZ