We begin with a flashback, which makes it perfectly clear to me that Shane is a darling, totally innocent and only doing what is best for everyone.
We see Rick in his coma, and all hell breaking loose in the local hospital. Heck, Shane can't just pick him up and bring him along, can he? And they're shooting people, even patients (they' being the military or something)! Shane blocks the door, which for the record, saves Rick's life, and takes off towards a bright future as a Hero, Father Figure and Boyfriend.
Well, anyway. Back to the present, back in the safe and welcoming arms of the CDC (is it really that nice and super-futuristic inside? Me doubts this!). We observe our folks taking showers, or, if you're Shane, getting drunk while showering (my favorite).
Lightheartedness aside, the relative safety of the CDC arouses - what else? - human emotional drama. Shane backs Lori into a corner, trying to explain what really happened back at the hospital, and we are all very put off by the rape-ish vibe coming off a very drunk and very hurt Shane. Yikes. Was this necessary? Couldn't they have put some pants on Lori and made their point with equal force? She scratches him up good.
Are you wondering what caused this plague? Well, you'll never know. Jenner doesn't provide any answers, though we get to see some cool pseudo-science graphics.
On a more worrisome note, the generators shut off. So does the air. And Jenner is strangely placid. Yes, he admits, the building is shutting down. And BTW, it'll be self-destructing in like, ten minutes.
Freak outs ensue.
Most of the team want to split, but it'll be tough due to the automatic lock down. Opting to opt out are Jaqui and Andrea. Weirdly, the gang accepts Jacqui's decision, but Dale badgers Andrea about hers. Brimming with moral superiority, he plops down and refuses to budge. Uninterested in having old man blood on her hands, Andrea is pestered out of certain death.
Upstairs, the gang gets out thanks to a grenade hidden in Rick's pants. I guess. And just in time! The whole building explodes, but our folks are safely driving away, onto Season Two.
And that's a wrap! By season's end, I am utterly fascinated. Rick and Andrea are, in my opinion, the most accessible characters, and I am pleased that Andrea will live to die another day (just like Madonna and James Bond). The zombie-based violence isn't the point - it's the story, man. I am surprised and impressed by the show's ability to keep a narrative moving along, something I did not think possible for a horror-based premise.
Monday, October 28, 2013
"1-5: Wildfire" and My Shits & Giggles
Now I remember why I forgot Jim. He was bit in last night's attack and hid it, the sneaky bugger! And he's dying.
The episode jumps right in with material my husband describes as "utterly bleak:" assorted burials and burning of the dead. I myself am not watching TMD in the hopes of a healthy dose of shits and giggles, so this doesn't phase me. In fact, what I enjoyed so much about the first season of TWD was the affirmation, if you will, that life can sometimes feel pretty fucking bleak and hopeless. But hey, at least it's not as bleak and hopeless as all of this.
I have a long history of loving Apocalyptic tales, whether or not they feature zombies. I was so enraptured by the original trailer for 28 Days Later that I had a vivid dream about the film's plot before I saw the film (turns out I was fairly accurate!). The Road is both a haunting novel and film (no demons beyond the internal kind). Come to think of it, I committed to The Stand in the back of my parent's Jeep Wrangler as we drove across country in 1995. This book confirmed my naive and youthful belief that Las Vegas was a corrupt and terrible place, a misconception firmly transformed during college (fortunately, as I actually got married there).
Anyway. Most of the time, life ain't got no laugh track, and rarely does it afford us the opportunity to display the heroism and amazing-ness we all suspect we are stockpiling. I have worked in a cubicle for two whole years now, and on a personal note that makes me sound like a real douche, I find that it rather exacerbates the feeling that I am less of a person than some kind of drone, confined to my box to crank out somewhat meaningful 'work' whilst my actual talents and passions lay increasingly beyond my reach. Yes, I know. Poor, poor me and my middle-class, white girl problems. But I doubt I'm alone. If I've got malaise that prompts me to want to immerse myself in the experience of an Other, I want that Other to be as vivid and compelling as it can be. I depend on the storytellers of the world to restore my interest in the world. It is too tempting otherwise to work 10 hours, make dinner, and collapse on the couch. Art is good for the soul, and some of us appreciate the kind of art (and yes, this can include television shows) that pushes boundaries and takes us to the most uncomfortable places. These are places that we feel we already know intimately, and if not for the community of art and fiction, we would feel rather hopelessly isolated and alone within them.
But maybe other people are mostly watching because they like zombies. I'm not sure what is appealing about zombies beyond the Halloween costume potential (and the recent outpouring of zombie-based 5K's and pub crawls). Moving on.
Looks like my memory jumped the gun - this is the cheerful episode in which Carol axes zombie Ed, and Andrea ices zombie Amy. Shane, poor suffering romantic, berates Rick for leaving camp and hence depleting their defense. This is the beginning of their bromo-gone-bad-romance. Whilst in the woods, Shane trains his rifle sight on Rick, and Dale sees it. Which launches their "I hate you Shane" relationship.
Also on the table: whether the gang should try to reach the CDC. After all, Atlanta is kind of a shit-hole these days, but if anyone has a cure, it'll be at the Center for Disease Control! I did not know that this is actually in Atlanta, which I do know is home to CNN, Coca-Cola, and Andre 5000. After much hand-wringing, Team TWD departs (leaving delirious Jim on the side of the road. Bye Jim!).
What's this? We're cutting away to a new character! One who appears to... specialize in zombie plagues within the CDC! It's Jenner, and it's probably not good that he appears to be alone, drunk, and suicidal. He's got a good work ethic, though, working away on some samples. Could a cure be in the works?
Team TWD pulls up to a shuttered CDC. They bang on the doors, pleading to get in - they're out of gas. And then, the shutters open. BWAAAAAA!
The episode jumps right in with material my husband describes as "utterly bleak:" assorted burials and burning of the dead. I myself am not watching TMD in the hopes of a healthy dose of shits and giggles, so this doesn't phase me. In fact, what I enjoyed so much about the first season of TWD was the affirmation, if you will, that life can sometimes feel pretty fucking bleak and hopeless. But hey, at least it's not as bleak and hopeless as all of this.
I have a long history of loving Apocalyptic tales, whether or not they feature zombies. I was so enraptured by the original trailer for 28 Days Later that I had a vivid dream about the film's plot before I saw the film (turns out I was fairly accurate!). The Road is both a haunting novel and film (no demons beyond the internal kind). Come to think of it, I committed to The Stand in the back of my parent's Jeep Wrangler as we drove across country in 1995. This book confirmed my naive and youthful belief that Las Vegas was a corrupt and terrible place, a misconception firmly transformed during college (fortunately, as I actually got married there).
Anyway. Most of the time, life ain't got no laugh track, and rarely does it afford us the opportunity to display the heroism and amazing-ness we all suspect we are stockpiling. I have worked in a cubicle for two whole years now, and on a personal note that makes me sound like a real douche, I find that it rather exacerbates the feeling that I am less of a person than some kind of drone, confined to my box to crank out somewhat meaningful 'work' whilst my actual talents and passions lay increasingly beyond my reach. Yes, I know. Poor, poor me and my middle-class, white girl problems. But I doubt I'm alone. If I've got malaise that prompts me to want to immerse myself in the experience of an Other, I want that Other to be as vivid and compelling as it can be. I depend on the storytellers of the world to restore my interest in the world. It is too tempting otherwise to work 10 hours, make dinner, and collapse on the couch. Art is good for the soul, and some of us appreciate the kind of art (and yes, this can include television shows) that pushes boundaries and takes us to the most uncomfortable places. These are places that we feel we already know intimately, and if not for the community of art and fiction, we would feel rather hopelessly isolated and alone within them.
But maybe other people are mostly watching because they like zombies. I'm not sure what is appealing about zombies beyond the Halloween costume potential (and the recent outpouring of zombie-based 5K's and pub crawls). Moving on.
Looks like my memory jumped the gun - this is the cheerful episode in which Carol axes zombie Ed, and Andrea ices zombie Amy. Shane, poor suffering romantic, berates Rick for leaving camp and hence depleting their defense. This is the beginning of their bromo-gone-bad-romance. Whilst in the woods, Shane trains his rifle sight on Rick, and Dale sees it. Which launches their "I hate you Shane" relationship.
Also on the table: whether the gang should try to reach the CDC. After all, Atlanta is kind of a shit-hole these days, but if anyone has a cure, it'll be at the Center for Disease Control! I did not know that this is actually in Atlanta, which I do know is home to CNN, Coca-Cola, and Andre 5000. After much hand-wringing, Team TWD departs (leaving delirious Jim on the side of the road. Bye Jim!).
What's this? We're cutting away to a new character! One who appears to... specialize in zombie plagues within the CDC! It's Jenner, and it's probably not good that he appears to be alone, drunk, and suicidal. He's got a good work ethic, though, working away on some samples. Could a cure be in the works?
Team TWD pulls up to a shuttered CDC. They bang on the doors, pleading to get in - they're out of gas. And then, the shutters open. BWAAAAAA!
"1-4: Vatos" and Degrees of Lunacy
We don't know Merle, but we're all getting so invested in his welfare!
The gang follows a streaky trail of red goo and determine that he has cauterized his stump, after having chopped off his own hand. A tough son-of-a-bitch, one might say.
Who could forget Jim? I certainly did, as this minor character is memorable only for having gone lightly crazy in this episode, embarking on a digging spree. In that the digging sure looks a lot like coffin-sized holes, which creeps out the posse.
There are various degrees of lunacy in TWD, from light OCD to full-blown homicidal delusions. On second thought, this is not at all unlike the real world.
It turns out that Jim is feeling poorly because he saw his family eaten, and couldn't help them. This is a legitimate reason for going crazy, and puts my own stress into perspective. This show is already providing me with insights into my own human condition!
Remember that bag of guns Lazy Ricky dropped? It turns out a gang, of sorts, is also interested in them. A scuffle ensues, a gangster butt receives an arrow (courtesy of Daryl), and Glenn gets kidnapped (this will happen often throughout the course of TMD).
We are clearly meant to fear this mysterious gang of bad guys, but as it turns out - not everything is as it seems! They have hearts of gold, and are protecting old people in an old people's house. Diplomacy wins the day, and no one gets hurt. Everyone wins, except the audience whose heart is wrenched by the vulnerability of the old folks, and the noblesse of Felipe and Guillermo.
It's been too long since we've seen a zombie. Cue the zombies. Camp goes beserk as a flood of ghouls overtakes Smore hour, and Amy falls to a nasty bite.
Andrea, her sister, is doubly bummed for she must now put her deceased / Walker sister out of her misery. We all feel pretty bad.
The gang follows a streaky trail of red goo and determine that he has cauterized his stump, after having chopped off his own hand. A tough son-of-a-bitch, one might say.
Who could forget Jim? I certainly did, as this minor character is memorable only for having gone lightly crazy in this episode, embarking on a digging spree. In that the digging sure looks a lot like coffin-sized holes, which creeps out the posse.
There are various degrees of lunacy in TWD, from light OCD to full-blown homicidal delusions. On second thought, this is not at all unlike the real world.
It turns out that Jim is feeling poorly because he saw his family eaten, and couldn't help them. This is a legitimate reason for going crazy, and puts my own stress into perspective. This show is already providing me with insights into my own human condition!
Remember that bag of guns Lazy Ricky dropped? It turns out a gang, of sorts, is also interested in them. A scuffle ensues, a gangster butt receives an arrow (courtesy of Daryl), and Glenn gets kidnapped (this will happen often throughout the course of TMD).
We are clearly meant to fear this mysterious gang of bad guys, but as it turns out - not everything is as it seems! They have hearts of gold, and are protecting old people in an old people's house. Diplomacy wins the day, and no one gets hurt. Everyone wins, except the audience whose heart is wrenched by the vulnerability of the old folks, and the noblesse of Felipe and Guillermo.
It's been too long since we've seen a zombie. Cue the zombies. Camp goes beserk as a flood of ghouls overtakes Smore hour, and Amy falls to a nasty bite.
Andrea, her sister, is doubly bummed for she must now put her deceased / Walker sister out of her misery. We all feel pretty bad.
1-3: Tell it to the Frogs, and a Breakfast Burrito!
God, I'm getting punchy.
For the record, this marathon blog hit the pause button for breakfast. I made a breakfast burrito and was really irked to find that my Fred Meyer tortillas were all stuck to one another. Even warming them up couldn't break the little bastards apart, which left me with perilously thin spots. Fortunately, no leakage occurred this morning, but who knows what tomorrow will bring?
Kitty took off. She's outside now, and the sun is up and very bright. I have no plans to shower.
Where were we? Geez, only the third episode, ever. Despite this morning's lofty goals of applying critical theory to my blog, it's really just a run-down of episodes, isn't it? Fortunately, this isn't being graded, so I can do what I like. Hotcha!
The show begins with the Plight of Merle. He seems miserable, and has an unsightly burn already from ingesting too much of that hot Atlanta sun.
Meanwhile, our kids return to camp. Lots of hugs as people are reunited, like Andrea and her sister Amy, and... well, not Darryl with his brother Merle so much, sorry about that.
But. Oh. My. God. Lori jumps ship on Shane when she sees, of all folks, her dead husband emerge from the group. Yay! A little bit of sunshine in a bleak world.
Apocalypse Camp is much like Real Camp: there are nice kids, weird kids and jerks. Ed is our jerk. He bosses around the spineless Carol, whose close-cropped haircut is truly unfortunate and adds about 25 years to her age. They have spawned Sophia, a girl-child with no personality beyond fear of her father.
Also in camp: the annoying Dale. Why does Dale rub me the wrong way? Maybe his all-around sense of moral superiority (which will develop into full-blown martyrdom in season three, by the way). I am relieved that TV Dale has a neutral relationship with the much younger Andrea, which is not the case in the comics. The comics absurdly posit that the super-cool Andrea would have sex with an old, crabby dude, which I assume is just a male-anxiety-produced fantasy.
We eventually meet Daryl, who does not appear at all in the comics but has pretty much become the show's icon character. I was pretty much predestined to cherish him, for he appeared with Sean Patrick Flanery in "Boondock Saints." His bobble-head figurine graces my desk at work. Anyway, because Daryl is something of a cou rouge like his brother, he has been hunting in the woods and hence receives delayed news of his trapped brother. "I'm a goin' back!" Of course you are, Daryl!
It seems that many of them have an excuse to go back; Rick dropped a bag of guns, for starters. Off they go.
Emotional drama rears its lovely head as we get to know the campers. Shane confronts Lori, who is extremely rude to him. Turns out that Shane was the one who told her Rick was dead, so that's kind of understandable. But then again... he's so hot. Why can't she forgive him?
Shane sublimates his sadness by pummeling Ed, on the grounds that he is a dick to women.
The ladies take on lady duties, washing clothes and whatnot. We have learned that most people, understandably, don't know what to do with guns, so I can forgive this.
And back in Atlanta, all we find of Merle is a stump. A hand-stump, that is.
For the record, this marathon blog hit the pause button for breakfast. I made a breakfast burrito and was really irked to find that my Fred Meyer tortillas were all stuck to one another. Even warming them up couldn't break the little bastards apart, which left me with perilously thin spots. Fortunately, no leakage occurred this morning, but who knows what tomorrow will bring?
Kitty took off. She's outside now, and the sun is up and very bright. I have no plans to shower.
Where were we? Geez, only the third episode, ever. Despite this morning's lofty goals of applying critical theory to my blog, it's really just a run-down of episodes, isn't it? Fortunately, this isn't being graded, so I can do what I like. Hotcha!
The show begins with the Plight of Merle. He seems miserable, and has an unsightly burn already from ingesting too much of that hot Atlanta sun.
Meanwhile, our kids return to camp. Lots of hugs as people are reunited, like Andrea and her sister Amy, and... well, not Darryl with his brother Merle so much, sorry about that.
But. Oh. My. God. Lori jumps ship on Shane when she sees, of all folks, her dead husband emerge from the group. Yay! A little bit of sunshine in a bleak world.
Apocalypse Camp is much like Real Camp: there are nice kids, weird kids and jerks. Ed is our jerk. He bosses around the spineless Carol, whose close-cropped haircut is truly unfortunate and adds about 25 years to her age. They have spawned Sophia, a girl-child with no personality beyond fear of her father.
Also in camp: the annoying Dale. Why does Dale rub me the wrong way? Maybe his all-around sense of moral superiority (which will develop into full-blown martyrdom in season three, by the way). I am relieved that TV Dale has a neutral relationship with the much younger Andrea, which is not the case in the comics. The comics absurdly posit that the super-cool Andrea would have sex with an old, crabby dude, which I assume is just a male-anxiety-produced fantasy.
We eventually meet Daryl, who does not appear at all in the comics but has pretty much become the show's icon character. I was pretty much predestined to cherish him, for he appeared with Sean Patrick Flanery in "Boondock Saints." His bobble-head figurine graces my desk at work. Anyway, because Daryl is something of a cou rouge like his brother, he has been hunting in the woods and hence receives delayed news of his trapped brother. "I'm a goin' back!" Of course you are, Daryl!
It seems that many of them have an excuse to go back; Rick dropped a bag of guns, for starters. Off they go.
Emotional drama rears its lovely head as we get to know the campers. Shane confronts Lori, who is extremely rude to him. Turns out that Shane was the one who told her Rick was dead, so that's kind of understandable. But then again... he's so hot. Why can't she forgive him?
Shane sublimates his sadness by pummeling Ed, on the grounds that he is a dick to women.
The ladies take on lady duties, washing clothes and whatnot. We have learned that most people, understandably, don't know what to do with guns, so I can forgive this.
And back in Atlanta, all we find of Merle is a stump. A hand-stump, that is.
1-2: Guts, and lots of exciting people!
This episode starts with a bang! Literally. Shane and Lori. She is so lucky.
This is clearly the episode in which we will meet a ton of key characters, or if you are a nerd, new fictional friends. Those whose characters were already known to me, via the comic book, shall be denoted by (yay!) and purely TV characters shall be henceforth marked as (who?).
Trapped in a tank and surrounded by zombies, Rick learns that he has a friend on the radio. The voice cues him to get the hell out of the tank and into safety, and hence we meet Glenn (yay!). Glenn wears a boyish baseball cap and seems very young. He brings Rick back to a group of folks inside a department store - enter Andrea (yay!) and T-Dog (who?) and Jacqui (who?). They are all pissed because Rick's ruckus has attracted many Walkers, forcing them onto the roof.
Who should be on the roof shooting walkers but Merle (who?)? Merle is a meth-esque cou rouge of the highest degree, applying colorful verbiage to describe the color of T-Dog's skin. Rick, ever the sheriff (or cop or whatever), steps in and cuffs belligerent Merle to a pipe. Audience cheers!
The gang has to escape, and at this point we learn that Walkers are somewhat easily fooled by scent, sight and silence. Stink like a Walker, shuffle all slow like a Walker, and be quiet, very much like in Shawn of the Dead. The wacky plan hatched will be to rub themselves with a dead guy, and wear his feet like a scarf in order to trick the horde.
I actually work for the state's donor registry, and so am momentarily delighted when Rick notes "He was an organ donor," before launching into a rather gross scene of, um, taking apart the dead fellow. Ultimately, this was not a great PR moment for the noble donation of solid organs.
D'oh! The plan goes so well until... yep. It rains, and with suspicious speed obliterates the death-skunk upon Rick and Glenn. They hightail it to a vehicle, some fun car-based scenes happen, and they return to the store to save everyone.
Everyone? Well, not Merle. T-Dog trips and loses the key - major whoops. As the Dixie Chicks might say, "Goodbye, Merle!"
This is clearly the episode in which we will meet a ton of key characters, or if you are a nerd, new fictional friends. Those whose characters were already known to me, via the comic book, shall be denoted by (yay!) and purely TV characters shall be henceforth marked as (who?).
Trapped in a tank and surrounded by zombies, Rick learns that he has a friend on the radio. The voice cues him to get the hell out of the tank and into safety, and hence we meet Glenn (yay!). Glenn wears a boyish baseball cap and seems very young. He brings Rick back to a group of folks inside a department store - enter Andrea (yay!) and T-Dog (who?) and Jacqui (who?). They are all pissed because Rick's ruckus has attracted many Walkers, forcing them onto the roof.
Who should be on the roof shooting walkers but Merle (who?)? Merle is a meth-esque cou rouge of the highest degree, applying colorful verbiage to describe the color of T-Dog's skin. Rick, ever the sheriff (or cop or whatever), steps in and cuffs belligerent Merle to a pipe. Audience cheers!
The gang has to escape, and at this point we learn that Walkers are somewhat easily fooled by scent, sight and silence. Stink like a Walker, shuffle all slow like a Walker, and be quiet, very much like in Shawn of the Dead. The wacky plan hatched will be to rub themselves with a dead guy, and wear his feet like a scarf in order to trick the horde.
I actually work for the state's donor registry, and so am momentarily delighted when Rick notes "He was an organ donor," before launching into a rather gross scene of, um, taking apart the dead fellow. Ultimately, this was not a great PR moment for the noble donation of solid organs.
D'oh! The plan goes so well until... yep. It rains, and with suspicious speed obliterates the death-skunk upon Rick and Glenn. They hightail it to a vehicle, some fun car-based scenes happen, and they return to the store to save everyone.
Everyone? Well, not Merle. T-Dog trips and loses the key - major whoops. As the Dixie Chicks might say, "Goodbye, Merle!"
"1-1: Days Gone Bye" and How TWD Bagged Me a Husband
I began watching TWD on my then-boyfriend's couch. He had Netflix, and I did not, so I connived my way into watching the entire first season at his apartment. I like to think that this initial time commitment bonded us together, ultimately leading to our state of nuptial bliss. He will tell you that he finds the show "unwatchable," and merely indulged me out of politesse.
Anyway. Let me think back upon that episode and glean the gold from its inky sediment!
The initial set-up was nothing we haven't seen before. Guy wakes up in hospital from coma, end of world, stumbles around in confusion, etc. I do wonder which came first - 28 Days Later, or TWD in comic book form?
Cue the flashback, in a normal world. Our protagonist Rick Grimes was a copper, in the great state of Georgia. His BFF is also his partner, Shane. Shane is a slice of man-cake which I'd happily devour. Rick Grimes is that guy from the adorable Christmas movie Love, Actually, and so watching him here confuses me. Is he American or British? My boyfriend-now-husband is from Georgia, and claims this is a dead-on hick accent. It took about two years for us to muster the interest and determine his nationality (British).
Anyway. It's a shooting that landed Rick in the hospital, so let's get back to his shitty present.
There is no point in drawing out, verbally, what you can plainly see if you watch the show. The world has ended, very violently, and he stumbles around in a nicely convincing state of shock. He heads home, where he is clocked in the head by a shovel wielded by some kid.
The kid belongs to Morgan, who has survived the Apocalypse and who gives our hero a helping hand, by coaching him into the reality of this New Reality. Don't get bit, aim for the head, they're not people anymore, etc.
Rick stops by the old casa, only to find that the family photo albums are gone. This is a clue - maybe his beloved wife and child, Lori and Carl, are still out there! Probably in Atlanta, where the CCD is located. After suiting up at the police station, Rick bids Morgan goodbye and hits the road.
Fortunately for Rick, his family did indeed survive. In fact, they are camping with Shane, and a bunch of other refugees! Shane and Lori smooch. I am jealous of Lori, and applaud her decision to ease her grief with him.
By the way, I am vaguely aware that there was much fan-based anger towards Lori for this love affair, and accusations of betrayal, sluttery, etc. Um... she thought her husband was dead, fan-boys. It's not cheating if your husband is dead, morons!
Rick makes it to Atlanta on horse, which looks fun. But the city sure isn't promising - it looks pretty desolate. For a moment, our hopes rise as a helicopter passes overhead - the troops are coming! - but this is negated by the fact that Rick runs directly into a horde of zombies.
He winds up hiding in a tank, hopelessly trapped and ready to pull the trigger. When he hears something like this crackle out of the tank's radio (highly paraphrased):
"Hey, dumb-bag. Whatcha doing?"
Suicide averted! Epic show launched! I clap my hands in delight, and my boyfriend-now-husband politely agrees that it was fine television, and asks if I want more pizza.
Anyway. Let me think back upon that episode and glean the gold from its inky sediment!
The initial set-up was nothing we haven't seen before. Guy wakes up in hospital from coma, end of world, stumbles around in confusion, etc. I do wonder which came first - 28 Days Later, or TWD in comic book form?
Cue the flashback, in a normal world. Our protagonist Rick Grimes was a copper, in the great state of Georgia. His BFF is also his partner, Shane. Shane is a slice of man-cake which I'd happily devour. Rick Grimes is that guy from the adorable Christmas movie Love, Actually, and so watching him here confuses me. Is he American or British? My boyfriend-now-husband is from Georgia, and claims this is a dead-on hick accent. It took about two years for us to muster the interest and determine his nationality (British).
Anyway. It's a shooting that landed Rick in the hospital, so let's get back to his shitty present.
There is no point in drawing out, verbally, what you can plainly see if you watch the show. The world has ended, very violently, and he stumbles around in a nicely convincing state of shock. He heads home, where he is clocked in the head by a shovel wielded by some kid.
The kid belongs to Morgan, who has survived the Apocalypse and who gives our hero a helping hand, by coaching him into the reality of this New Reality. Don't get bit, aim for the head, they're not people anymore, etc.
Rick stops by the old casa, only to find that the family photo albums are gone. This is a clue - maybe his beloved wife and child, Lori and Carl, are still out there! Probably in Atlanta, where the CCD is located. After suiting up at the police station, Rick bids Morgan goodbye and hits the road.
Fortunately for Rick, his family did indeed survive. In fact, they are camping with Shane, and a bunch of other refugees! Shane and Lori smooch. I am jealous of Lori, and applaud her decision to ease her grief with him.
By the way, I am vaguely aware that there was much fan-based anger towards Lori for this love affair, and accusations of betrayal, sluttery, etc. Um... she thought her husband was dead, fan-boys. It's not cheating if your husband is dead, morons!
Rick makes it to Atlanta on horse, which looks fun. But the city sure isn't promising - it looks pretty desolate. For a moment, our hopes rise as a helicopter passes overhead - the troops are coming! - but this is negated by the fact that Rick runs directly into a horde of zombies.
He winds up hiding in a tank, hopelessly trapped and ready to pull the trigger. When he hears something like this crackle out of the tank's radio (highly paraphrased):
"Hey, dumb-bag. Whatcha doing?"
Suicide averted! Epic show launched! I clap my hands in delight, and my boyfriend-now-husband politely agrees that it was fine television, and asks if I want more pizza.
"4-1: 30 Days Without Accident" and my Huge Disappointment
It's here, it's here!!!! YAYAAYAYAY!!!!
Nothing could dampen my excitement for the first episode of the new season. It'll be awesome, right? Has to be, right? Right?
Well... hmmm.
Time has fast forwarded, so we are now several months away from the Woodbury Incident. The Governor is still out there; Michonne is taking pony rides off into the suburbs and incorporating a manhunt into her supply gathering.
But otherwise, the Prison is a changed place. There are crops and people, and schedules and jobs, and basically it's Little Woodbury. We immediately learn that Rick is now Farmer Rick, his days of being an A-grade copper behind him. We learn that Darryl is now Hero Darryl to the community, much beloved despite his crass "let me lick my fingers before I shake yer hand" handshakes. Carol is full of confidence. Maggie and Glenn are still blissfully in love/lust.
Speaking of, as we rejoin our TWD gang, we learn that the today there will be a supply gathering mission, and guess what Maggie needs? That's correct. Despite having knifed Lori open in order to facilitate her childbirth, Maggie is inexplicably open to the possibility of being pregnant.
That is fucking stupid, and instantly disappointing. It makes me suspect that Maggie is a total idiot, or worse, the writers of this show are total idiots. I don't think any rational human being, having witnessed the murdery C-section of Lori last year, would seriously consider putting herself into the identical scenario. So WTF? Could the writers truly be so one-dimensional regarding the purpose of female characters on this show? Again and again, TWD trips up on its portrayals of the lady-types, reducing them to empty vessels through which stimulate the ethical and psychological development of its male characters. Lame sauce. Lame sauce, I say.
Whatever. Everyone wants to go on this run, especially new characters. I am somewhat put off by how many of them there are. But I guess half the cast were killed off last year, and so TWD must hurry to fill the void. I find myself wondering how the show will function without the characters whose stories I enjoyed following. Bob the Army Medic seems a little too eager to earn my affection, as does Karen, who Tyrese is flirting with. Tyrese, who was in all of three episodes last year, is apparently now a major character. It's too soon, TWD. Too soon.
Rick has no interest in foraging in town. He'd rather stay behind and wander the woods with a knife, which is sort of weird. But then again. People seem to be treating Rick with velvet gloves these days. He is apparently not involved with the Council - no longer making the life-or-death calls. Given his history of going mildly insane in Season 3, probably a good call to let him farm away his grief (though his pigs are dying, not a good sign).
But oh lord. Rick runs into, of all things, an Irish lady in the woods! I am quickly rolling my eyes because I suspect this sub-plot will boil down to a heavy-handed "illumination" of Rick's state of mind. Either that, or we get a new character with a cool accent! Rick tells her, quite ominously, that she must answer three riddles in order to join Little Woodbury. Sorry, three questions. The first, presumably, "Are you the Governor?"
Over on the supply run, we're all waiting for things to go to hell (see the episode's title). Bob passes by the wine and beer aisle, first resisting its siren song but slowly wheeling his mini-mart cart back to its array of Ikea bookshelf display cases. He fondles a bottle of wine for a very long time. Then, I swear to god, he shudders before guiltily setting it back on the shelf and moving on. It's a strangely eroticized scene, which I guess cues us to immediately discern his battles with alcoholism. Anyway, Divine Intervention breaks in and punishes him for his near naughtiness, as the roof collapses and a shit-ton of zombies invade. Much fighting sequences. All I recall about them: a rather gratuitous shot of a zombie splatting on the floor.
Back to Rick! He has followed Irish Girl - let's call her Clare or Erin or Kathleen or something - back to her camp in the woods. It's just a tent - how is she defending herself from Walkers, I wonder, until I remember that logic has nothing to do with this program.
It turns out her husband is just a zombie head in a bag, and she goes nuts for some reason. She attempts to stab up the Rick, but then... stabs herself? I mean, this is all after a lot of semi-profound talk about having to make regrettable decisions in order to stay alive, which obviously resonates with Crazy Ricky. She is a pessimist to the end, remarking that "You don't get to come back from the things you've done." Which is really, really weird, considering that she tells Rick she hasn't actually killed anyone before, so why the hell is she so guilt-wracked? She also claims to want to be with her husband, in which context her suicide again makes no sense. Isn't she already with him? I mean, he's a head in a bag, but am I to presume that she wishes to be with him as a zombie? I guess that I'm over thinking this. Exit Erin Go Bragh. Cue Rick looking tormented.
Back in the prison, Carol is teaching children to stick the Walkers. For some reason this is illicit, and Carl sees it happening and seems really put off. Even though it is completely practical that everyone would learn how to defend themselves. There is a nerd child in the background - the same guy who shook Darryl's licky-hand earlier - and he excuses himself as sick.
Aaaaaand then he dies, in the bathroom in the middle of the night. Uh oh! Credits roll.
At the show's conclusion, I sit back in my chair and feel somehow cheated. Awesomeness did not occur in the season premiere. My overriding emotion is irritation and confusion. I miss Shane.
Nothing could dampen my excitement for the first episode of the new season. It'll be awesome, right? Has to be, right? Right?
Well... hmmm.
Time has fast forwarded, so we are now several months away from the Woodbury Incident. The Governor is still out there; Michonne is taking pony rides off into the suburbs and incorporating a manhunt into her supply gathering.
But otherwise, the Prison is a changed place. There are crops and people, and schedules and jobs, and basically it's Little Woodbury. We immediately learn that Rick is now Farmer Rick, his days of being an A-grade copper behind him. We learn that Darryl is now Hero Darryl to the community, much beloved despite his crass "let me lick my fingers before I shake yer hand" handshakes. Carol is full of confidence. Maggie and Glenn are still blissfully in love/lust.
Speaking of, as we rejoin our TWD gang, we learn that the today there will be a supply gathering mission, and guess what Maggie needs? That's correct. Despite having knifed Lori open in order to facilitate her childbirth, Maggie is inexplicably open to the possibility of being pregnant.
That is fucking stupid, and instantly disappointing. It makes me suspect that Maggie is a total idiot, or worse, the writers of this show are total idiots. I don't think any rational human being, having witnessed the murdery C-section of Lori last year, would seriously consider putting herself into the identical scenario. So WTF? Could the writers truly be so one-dimensional regarding the purpose of female characters on this show? Again and again, TWD trips up on its portrayals of the lady-types, reducing them to empty vessels through which stimulate the ethical and psychological development of its male characters. Lame sauce. Lame sauce, I say.
Whatever. Everyone wants to go on this run, especially new characters. I am somewhat put off by how many of them there are. But I guess half the cast were killed off last year, and so TWD must hurry to fill the void. I find myself wondering how the show will function without the characters whose stories I enjoyed following. Bob the Army Medic seems a little too eager to earn my affection, as does Karen, who Tyrese is flirting with. Tyrese, who was in all of three episodes last year, is apparently now a major character. It's too soon, TWD. Too soon.
Rick has no interest in foraging in town. He'd rather stay behind and wander the woods with a knife, which is sort of weird. But then again. People seem to be treating Rick with velvet gloves these days. He is apparently not involved with the Council - no longer making the life-or-death calls. Given his history of going mildly insane in Season 3, probably a good call to let him farm away his grief (though his pigs are dying, not a good sign).
But oh lord. Rick runs into, of all things, an Irish lady in the woods! I am quickly rolling my eyes because I suspect this sub-plot will boil down to a heavy-handed "illumination" of Rick's state of mind. Either that, or we get a new character with a cool accent! Rick tells her, quite ominously, that she must answer three riddles in order to join Little Woodbury. Sorry, three questions. The first, presumably, "Are you the Governor?"
Over on the supply run, we're all waiting for things to go to hell (see the episode's title). Bob passes by the wine and beer aisle, first resisting its siren song but slowly wheeling his mini-mart cart back to its array of Ikea bookshelf display cases. He fondles a bottle of wine for a very long time. Then, I swear to god, he shudders before guiltily setting it back on the shelf and moving on. It's a strangely eroticized scene, which I guess cues us to immediately discern his battles with alcoholism. Anyway, Divine Intervention breaks in and punishes him for his near naughtiness, as the roof collapses and a shit-ton of zombies invade. Much fighting sequences. All I recall about them: a rather gratuitous shot of a zombie splatting on the floor.
Back to Rick! He has followed Irish Girl - let's call her Clare or Erin or Kathleen or something - back to her camp in the woods. It's just a tent - how is she defending herself from Walkers, I wonder, until I remember that logic has nothing to do with this program.
It turns out her husband is just a zombie head in a bag, and she goes nuts for some reason. She attempts to stab up the Rick, but then... stabs herself? I mean, this is all after a lot of semi-profound talk about having to make regrettable decisions in order to stay alive, which obviously resonates with Crazy Ricky. She is a pessimist to the end, remarking that "You don't get to come back from the things you've done." Which is really, really weird, considering that she tells Rick she hasn't actually killed anyone before, so why the hell is she so guilt-wracked? She also claims to want to be with her husband, in which context her suicide again makes no sense. Isn't she already with him? I mean, he's a head in a bag, but am I to presume that she wishes to be with him as a zombie? I guess that I'm over thinking this. Exit Erin Go Bragh. Cue Rick looking tormented.
Back in the prison, Carol is teaching children to stick the Walkers. For some reason this is illicit, and Carl sees it happening and seems really put off. Even though it is completely practical that everyone would learn how to defend themselves. There is a nerd child in the background - the same guy who shook Darryl's licky-hand earlier - and he excuses himself as sick.
Aaaaaand then he dies, in the bathroom in the middle of the night. Uh oh! Credits roll.
At the show's conclusion, I sit back in my chair and feel somehow cheated. Awesomeness did not occur in the season premiere. My overriding emotion is irritation and confusion. I miss Shane.
"4-2: Infected" and Idiotic Patriarchal Ideologies
Another Sunday, another empty feeling. As though TWD were psychic nourishment, I have come away from an empty table.
The show begins with a flashlight, and a poor, adorable mouse/rat thing being fed through the fence to the Walkers by some Mystery Individual. This is tonight's first instance of animal cruelty, unfortunately. But really, the point is - oh no! There's a psycho in the prison! Because this is clearly a dumb thing to do, and the Individual knows it. They would not otherwise be cloaked by the dark of night.
We begin with Tyrese spooning up with a lady friend, who I think is the girl from Season 3 who survived the Governor's slaughter. I am immediately annoyed by her, because dammit - she tried to kill everyone in this prison! Shouldn't that detract from her personality? Who would love her? I must assume that she was only made the love interest simple because we can kind of recognize her, because this is otherwise a completely logic-defying choice. Anyway, judging by the somber tone of their conversation, I won't have to worry about their relationship for very long.
I get my hopes up when fresh Walker Patrick vaguely stalks her into Cell Block D. This sequence is shot in a very classic horror movie style, and succeeds in making me nervous.
Surprise: Carl wants his gun back. Surprise: Rick unreasonably refuses, seeking to divert his son's youthful energies away from murder and into agriculture. I mean, I guess Carl did shoot Lori last season, so they're bound to have some issues around this point, but - couldn't the writers have... written this better? I mean, yes, we get it: Rick is traumatized and trying to shield his son from a terrible world, etc. etc. I suppose it is somewhat realistic that the characters tip-toe around the real issue at stake here (Lori, Carl's future as a human being) rather than directly address it... but the last time I checked, I didn't expect much realism from TWD.
Pow pow pow! Block D is going to hell. Michonne trips and sprains her ankle, I guess, and is now out of the action. Seems like a ruse just to keep the character around, as opposed to the equestrian adventures she'd been pursuing of late. Cue the action sequence, involving the rest of the cast.
Surprisingly, Carol is given the spotlight for much of the episode, and it starts here. She and the gang bust into D and start a zombie-slayin'; but we are taken aside to observe Carol's interactions with Some Guy who is a Goner. He's been chomped and so they are waiting for him to die (awkward), and she provides comfort in the form of promising to look after his girls. For whatever reason, the most important part of this scene to me is the fact that Carol's hair just won't grow. Hasn't it been about a year? It's still so short!
I also feel a rumble of dread when Carol accepts the stewardship: Ugh, more new characters. Double ugh - they're going to be child actors. Having read the comics, I can respect that the two little girls are somewhat true to the original storyline... but I'm already hoping that, as in the comics, their stay will be brief and end in an off-screen decapitation (spoiler!). Because most child actors are lame, and I was hoping that Carol's new-found kickassery would not get sidelined by any kind of "Let's make her whole by making her a mom again!" nonsense. But as usual, I'm expecting too much of TWD writers and their capacity to flesh out a female lead character.
Back in Cell Block D, the team deduces what we already know - it's a killer flu! A new doctorish character explains this, while that New Guy /Clearly a Recovering Alcoholic from Episode One stands in the background and looks deeply concerned about everything. "Pigs and birds" seems to be the conclusion drawn, regarding the genesis of this evil flu. I find myself thinking, Geez, it could really be anything; is the answer that simple?
We next encounter an uncomfortable scene in which Carol urges her new found daughters to stab their dad in the head. Yeah. It does not go over well with either child. Again, we're seeing the New Carol at work - she's a tough cookie these days, folks!
Cut back to Carol and the Council (Hershel, Darryl... and maybe some other people, I don't recall). They decide that a quarantine of the ill is in order. My favorite moment - just as they make this call, Carol looks deeply thoughtful. Then hears someone cough in the hallway, and looks genuinely horrified. I felt very empathetic.
More Carol! A confusing scene in which she demonstrates tough love to the girls, telling them they can't be weak in the face of a zombie, etc. Can she teach them the skills she couldn't offer her own daughter, RIP Sofia? The older one (Lizzie?) blubbers; her sister (Mika?) sort of defends her sister, telling Carol "She's not weak. She's messed up." Which genuinely puzzles me. Does she mean the gravity of the entire situation has 'messed up' her sister? Does she mean her sister has an underlying case of some mental illness, exacerbated by a lack of access to medication and care? Probably the former, but who knows. Later in the show, Lizzie returns and... takes Carol's knife, oh so gently, in what I guess is a demonstration that she's back on board. She'd be okay stabbing her dad in the head now, if the situation required. Hurray?
Shit, that fence! It's collapsing! They didn't fortify it before? No matter. Sasha sees the aforementioned rats and puts two and two together. The team tries to stem the tide by using their nifty old-man-cane-turned-Walker-pokers, but it's no use. Rick steps up.
Which brings about the grossest scene in the show's history. Now, I've put up with a lot of violence in this show, mostly because it's never really been the main focus. Sure, sometimes it's gratuitous, but usually for the sake of a shock effect or some very dark humor, or to remind us of the brutal environment. I've sensed a shift this season, in that the close-up shots of violence/grossness are somewhat lovingly prolonged and less purposeful - let's just show that Zombie's eye popping out as he's pressed to the fence because we can.
But the pigs? Too, too real.
Rick sacrifices his farmer lifestyle by leading away the Walkers with his porcine friends. But first he slices the poor things, and we as an audience have to watch this as a CLOSE UP. And they SQUEAL A LOT (in terror?). And blood sprays and it's shown not once, but three times! Like we didn't get the point the fucking first time?
Is this a clever punch in the gut to the audience? After all, this brutality is probably the most upsetting thing I've seen on this show... because it is real. This is where you bacon comes from, America. This is your Christmas dinner! Poor, poor, sweet little actor piggy (not harmed in the course of filming, of course). The zombie violence never bothers me because it is so un-real, and impossible. Surely the show's creators are aware of this, so one must wonder if they're simply being Sick Bastards, or trying to sensitize us to our current state of desensitization. Either way, gross.
This is followed by another disappointing scene. A hobbled Michonne is forced to spend time with Maggie's sister (Becky?) and Baby Judy. I laughed aloud at the look on Michonne's face when Judy began crying, because I apparently superimposed my own sense of distaste and irritation when I heard a baby cry. And because Michonne is cool, I was delighted to find that we shared common ground.
But in the end, it turns out that Michonne has some kind of repressed desire to be a mom, obviously because she must have lost a child at some point. She weeps as she is forced to hold the baby - another moment that makes me laugh because she appears so uncomfortable, but then you realize - oh god, she's crying. She's serious. This is awkward. Why does Michonne's back story have to lurch towards the disappointingly conventional and domestic? Why must it be developed at all? She's doing just fine, kicking ass and being surly! Methinks the patriarchal ideology is at work here, insisting that her gender-neutrality be erased and replaced with something more recognizably feminine. I do not want to see a Michonne who is cuddly and loves babies.
Rick sets his pig pen afire, having accepted the assertion that his pigs must have produced killer flu. Carl gets his gun back. This hopefully signals that Rick will quit being so angsty.
And we end where we began. Tyreese visits his quarantined lady love, and - looks like I was right! Tyrese follows a pool of blood from her cell to the courtyard and gives a very nice performance of looking very upset while hovering over the camera. The perspective switches - we see what he sees, which is a hot mess. Ha! The quarantined folks' bodies have been burned. My question is, before or after they became Flu Zombies?
We'll see what rolls in next week!
The show begins with a flashlight, and a poor, adorable mouse/rat thing being fed through the fence to the Walkers by some Mystery Individual. This is tonight's first instance of animal cruelty, unfortunately. But really, the point is - oh no! There's a psycho in the prison! Because this is clearly a dumb thing to do, and the Individual knows it. They would not otherwise be cloaked by the dark of night.
We begin with Tyrese spooning up with a lady friend, who I think is the girl from Season 3 who survived the Governor's slaughter. I am immediately annoyed by her, because dammit - she tried to kill everyone in this prison! Shouldn't that detract from her personality? Who would love her? I must assume that she was only made the love interest simple because we can kind of recognize her, because this is otherwise a completely logic-defying choice. Anyway, judging by the somber tone of their conversation, I won't have to worry about their relationship for very long.
I get my hopes up when fresh Walker Patrick vaguely stalks her into Cell Block D. This sequence is shot in a very classic horror movie style, and succeeds in making me nervous.
Surprise: Carl wants his gun back. Surprise: Rick unreasonably refuses, seeking to divert his son's youthful energies away from murder and into agriculture. I mean, I guess Carl did shoot Lori last season, so they're bound to have some issues around this point, but - couldn't the writers have... written this better? I mean, yes, we get it: Rick is traumatized and trying to shield his son from a terrible world, etc. etc. I suppose it is somewhat realistic that the characters tip-toe around the real issue at stake here (Lori, Carl's future as a human being) rather than directly address it... but the last time I checked, I didn't expect much realism from TWD.
Pow pow pow! Block D is going to hell. Michonne trips and sprains her ankle, I guess, and is now out of the action. Seems like a ruse just to keep the character around, as opposed to the equestrian adventures she'd been pursuing of late. Cue the action sequence, involving the rest of the cast.
Surprisingly, Carol is given the spotlight for much of the episode, and it starts here. She and the gang bust into D and start a zombie-slayin'; but we are taken aside to observe Carol's interactions with Some Guy who is a Goner. He's been chomped and so they are waiting for him to die (awkward), and she provides comfort in the form of promising to look after his girls. For whatever reason, the most important part of this scene to me is the fact that Carol's hair just won't grow. Hasn't it been about a year? It's still so short!
I also feel a rumble of dread when Carol accepts the stewardship: Ugh, more new characters. Double ugh - they're going to be child actors. Having read the comics, I can respect that the two little girls are somewhat true to the original storyline... but I'm already hoping that, as in the comics, their stay will be brief and end in an off-screen decapitation (spoiler!). Because most child actors are lame, and I was hoping that Carol's new-found kickassery would not get sidelined by any kind of "Let's make her whole by making her a mom again!" nonsense. But as usual, I'm expecting too much of TWD writers and their capacity to flesh out a female lead character.
Back in Cell Block D, the team deduces what we already know - it's a killer flu! A new doctorish character explains this, while that New Guy /Clearly a Recovering Alcoholic from Episode One stands in the background and looks deeply concerned about everything. "Pigs and birds" seems to be the conclusion drawn, regarding the genesis of this evil flu. I find myself thinking, Geez, it could really be anything; is the answer that simple?
We next encounter an uncomfortable scene in which Carol urges her new found daughters to stab their dad in the head. Yeah. It does not go over well with either child. Again, we're seeing the New Carol at work - she's a tough cookie these days, folks!
Cut back to Carol and the Council (Hershel, Darryl... and maybe some other people, I don't recall). They decide that a quarantine of the ill is in order. My favorite moment - just as they make this call, Carol looks deeply thoughtful. Then hears someone cough in the hallway, and looks genuinely horrified. I felt very empathetic.
More Carol! A confusing scene in which she demonstrates tough love to the girls, telling them they can't be weak in the face of a zombie, etc. Can she teach them the skills she couldn't offer her own daughter, RIP Sofia? The older one (Lizzie?) blubbers; her sister (Mika?) sort of defends her sister, telling Carol "She's not weak. She's messed up." Which genuinely puzzles me. Does she mean the gravity of the entire situation has 'messed up' her sister? Does she mean her sister has an underlying case of some mental illness, exacerbated by a lack of access to medication and care? Probably the former, but who knows. Later in the show, Lizzie returns and... takes Carol's knife, oh so gently, in what I guess is a demonstration that she's back on board. She'd be okay stabbing her dad in the head now, if the situation required. Hurray?
Shit, that fence! It's collapsing! They didn't fortify it before? No matter. Sasha sees the aforementioned rats and puts two and two together. The team tries to stem the tide by using their nifty old-man-cane-turned-Walker-pokers, but it's no use. Rick steps up.
Which brings about the grossest scene in the show's history. Now, I've put up with a lot of violence in this show, mostly because it's never really been the main focus. Sure, sometimes it's gratuitous, but usually for the sake of a shock effect or some very dark humor, or to remind us of the brutal environment. I've sensed a shift this season, in that the close-up shots of violence/grossness are somewhat lovingly prolonged and less purposeful - let's just show that Zombie's eye popping out as he's pressed to the fence because we can.
But the pigs? Too, too real.
Rick sacrifices his farmer lifestyle by leading away the Walkers with his porcine friends. But first he slices the poor things, and we as an audience have to watch this as a CLOSE UP. And they SQUEAL A LOT (in terror?). And blood sprays and it's shown not once, but three times! Like we didn't get the point the fucking first time?
Is this a clever punch in the gut to the audience? After all, this brutality is probably the most upsetting thing I've seen on this show... because it is real. This is where you bacon comes from, America. This is your Christmas dinner! Poor, poor, sweet little actor piggy (not harmed in the course of filming, of course). The zombie violence never bothers me because it is so un-real, and impossible. Surely the show's creators are aware of this, so one must wonder if they're simply being Sick Bastards, or trying to sensitize us to our current state of desensitization. Either way, gross.
This is followed by another disappointing scene. A hobbled Michonne is forced to spend time with Maggie's sister (Becky?) and Baby Judy. I laughed aloud at the look on Michonne's face when Judy began crying, because I apparently superimposed my own sense of distaste and irritation when I heard a baby cry. And because Michonne is cool, I was delighted to find that we shared common ground.
But in the end, it turns out that Michonne has some kind of repressed desire to be a mom, obviously because she must have lost a child at some point. She weeps as she is forced to hold the baby - another moment that makes me laugh because she appears so uncomfortable, but then you realize - oh god, she's crying. She's serious. This is awkward. Why does Michonne's back story have to lurch towards the disappointingly conventional and domestic? Why must it be developed at all? She's doing just fine, kicking ass and being surly! Methinks the patriarchal ideology is at work here, insisting that her gender-neutrality be erased and replaced with something more recognizably feminine. I do not want to see a Michonne who is cuddly and loves babies.
Rick sets his pig pen afire, having accepted the assertion that his pigs must have produced killer flu. Carl gets his gun back. This hopefully signals that Rick will quit being so angsty.
And we end where we began. Tyreese visits his quarantined lady love, and - looks like I was right! Tyrese follows a pool of blood from her cell to the courtyard and gives a very nice performance of looking very upset while hovering over the camera. The perspective switches - we see what he sees, which is a hot mess. Ha! The quarantined folks' bodies have been burned. My question is, before or after they became Flu Zombies?
We'll see what rolls in next week!
Quick Caveat
For the record, about 2/3 of graduate students are merely smart people who never left school.
But 1/3 of them are truly intelligent, inquisitive and stimulating people. They're great!
But 1/3 of them are truly intelligent, inquisitive and stimulating people. They're great!
One more frame
Full disclosure: I do love critical theory. It's pretty nerdy, and something I once tried to indulge with a Ph.D. in Comparative Literature.
But the application of critical theory while a grad student was a rather empty exercise for me. I mean, it's entertaining when you're the instructor, talking through the basics with your classroom full of fresh-faced undergraduates ["Let's apply Marxist theory to the fairy tales of Hans Christian Anderson!" (I realize that the 'fun' in this situation is not totally transparent, but suffice to say - it's just so fucking ridiculous and immediately accessible that even the most tuned-out bro in the back of the classroom gets into the spirit and will offer up a vague defense of capitalist structures)].
But literary theory with a bunch of other book nerds going for their Ph.Ds? EURGHGH, as the Walkers would say. It's silly! People all like, showing off their ability to memorize obscure passages and shit. And 'revelations' are always being made about what Sartre meant by his treatment of Las Meninas. These revelations mostly only impress the the student who discovered them, who may one day write them into a dissertation that no one will ever read, which could theoretically be published in a JSTOR journal 99% of the world can't afford to access, and so on. The entire point of the system is so that the smart kid from your English class can make a triumphant entrance at your 20th high school reunion.
So anyway, I clearly left all that behind (not the debt part, unfortunately) and am now a Normal Person with No Outlet for Interests like Critical Theory.
So I'm not going to make any promises to myself. Hell, if I return to this blog after today, ever, it'll be a miracle (poor blogging track record; must confess that I find the genre perplexing and narcissistic).
But maybe, just maybe, I can wiggle some in as I discuss episodes!
Because here's my vision (it's already 7:15 am?): since I keep re-watching all these stupid "Walking Dead" episodes anyway, and seriously thinking about these silly things in an overly critical way, then heck. Let's just write it down.
P.S., I've always been predisposed to obsessive entertainment watching. It probably began with "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" or "The Three Amigos"; I forget which came first. The "Star Wars" trilogy, and all the Indiana Jones movies (the real ones, I mean, 1-3) also qualified. If only I could turn this compulsion towards books! I occasionally feel ashamed that I enjoy films and episodic television so much, mostly due to a self-conscious perception that if I were really intelligent, I'd only devote such attention to books. But then, that's only the kind of privileged, narrow prejudice that one encounters among the most insecure book nerds.
But the application of critical theory while a grad student was a rather empty exercise for me. I mean, it's entertaining when you're the instructor, talking through the basics with your classroom full of fresh-faced undergraduates ["Let's apply Marxist theory to the fairy tales of Hans Christian Anderson!" (I realize that the 'fun' in this situation is not totally transparent, but suffice to say - it's just so fucking ridiculous and immediately accessible that even the most tuned-out bro in the back of the classroom gets into the spirit and will offer up a vague defense of capitalist structures)].
But literary theory with a bunch of other book nerds going for their Ph.Ds? EURGHGH, as the Walkers would say. It's silly! People all like, showing off their ability to memorize obscure passages and shit. And 'revelations' are always being made about what Sartre meant by his treatment of Las Meninas. These revelations mostly only impress the the student who discovered them, who may one day write them into a dissertation that no one will ever read, which could theoretically be published in a JSTOR journal 99% of the world can't afford to access, and so on. The entire point of the system is so that the smart kid from your English class can make a triumphant entrance at your 20th high school reunion.
So anyway, I clearly left all that behind (not the debt part, unfortunately) and am now a Normal Person with No Outlet for Interests like Critical Theory.
So I'm not going to make any promises to myself. Hell, if I return to this blog after today, ever, it'll be a miracle (poor blogging track record; must confess that I find the genre perplexing and narcissistic).
But maybe, just maybe, I can wiggle some in as I discuss episodes!
Because here's my vision (it's already 7:15 am?): since I keep re-watching all these stupid "Walking Dead" episodes anyway, and seriously thinking about these silly things in an overly critical way, then heck. Let's just write it down.
P.S., I've always been predisposed to obsessive entertainment watching. It probably began with "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" or "The Three Amigos"; I forget which came first. The "Star Wars" trilogy, and all the Indiana Jones movies (the real ones, I mean, 1-3) also qualified. If only I could turn this compulsion towards books! I occasionally feel ashamed that I enjoy films and episodic television so much, mostly due to a self-conscious perception that if I were really intelligent, I'd only devote such attention to books. But then, that's only the kind of privileged, narrow prejudice that one encounters among the most insecure book nerds.
This blog emerges, on a dark October morning.
At 5:56 this morning, my cat (Kitty Wang Wang) began to cry. This morning it was unusual because she had the consideration to do so in the living room, as opposed to directly in front of my bedroom door. She is a Russian Blue, which are apparently related to Siamese breeds somehow, meaning she inherited the genes of the Loudest Fucking Domestic Animals in the world.
This is only important because it awoke me with such a gentle crescendo that I was utterly alert and un-groggy by the time I registered the time. And then my mind began to shift around, against my will, getting ready for the day.
And the (sadly) most interesting thought I had concerning the day's agenda (for example, beyond playing "Mass Effect" and calling the vet to inquire about the cost of a rabies shot), was "Seriously. That pig scene was too much. It was graphic for shock value and made little narrative sense."
I was of course thinking about Season 4, Episode 2 of "The Walking Dead."
And I'd been meaning to incorporate more writing time into my daily life anyway, seeing as how I enjoy writing. Much like art, it's just not something I have the energy to indulge in when I work 10 hour days in a cubicle, and come home feeling like my brain and soul have been drained out. I even sort of persist in considering myself a writer, although the dissonance between this cherished identity and the reality of me never actually writing has in itself become quite the point of cognitive dissonance.
So, what the hell. I feel like writing about "The Walking Dead" this morning, and at this point I'll take whatever inspiration I can get. Kitty is curled up next to me, I have a nice cup of Sisters Coffee in hand, and the heat clicked on.
This is only important because it awoke me with such a gentle crescendo that I was utterly alert and un-groggy by the time I registered the time. And then my mind began to shift around, against my will, getting ready for the day.
And the (sadly) most interesting thought I had concerning the day's agenda (for example, beyond playing "Mass Effect" and calling the vet to inquire about the cost of a rabies shot), was "Seriously. That pig scene was too much. It was graphic for shock value and made little narrative sense."
I was of course thinking about Season 4, Episode 2 of "The Walking Dead."
And I'd been meaning to incorporate more writing time into my daily life anyway, seeing as how I enjoy writing. Much like art, it's just not something I have the energy to indulge in when I work 10 hour days in a cubicle, and come home feeling like my brain and soul have been drained out. I even sort of persist in considering myself a writer, although the dissonance between this cherished identity and the reality of me never actually writing has in itself become quite the point of cognitive dissonance.
So, what the hell. I feel like writing about "The Walking Dead" this morning, and at this point I'll take whatever inspiration I can get. Kitty is curled up next to me, I have a nice cup of Sisters Coffee in hand, and the heat clicked on.
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